William's last day of preschool

Today was William's last day at Westminster. It was his last day of pre-K.

Here he is, after I picked him up for the very last time today at noon:




















I'm now telling myself, "Self, your son has officially finished preschool and will be heading toward kindergarten in just a few short months. That's right. Your son. The one who was born five years ago. The one who can button his own shirts and write his name and uses words like "awkward" and "devour" correctly in conversations. The one who's ready for kindergarten. That one."

As you can probably surmise, I'm still trying to get my brain around this. Intellectually, I know that it's just the next logical step, but emotionally, I'm sort of staggering around, clutching my chest, and moaning, "My baby! He can't be ready for that yet!"

The thing is...he IS ready. He's totally ready. His teachers have been saying for months that he's ready. And he really is. And really, I'm ready, too. I've been working on getting used to it for awhile now. I'm almost there. I just need a few more weeks to really get used to it. And by the time the first day of kindergarten rolls around in early August (gulp), I will be ready.

It's helped that we've had a few transitional activities along the way. There was the Mother's Day tea a couple of weeks ago. And there was the end-of-the-year class pool party yesterday. (Spider-Man made an appearance.)



















Those sorts of things helped me prepare for the inevitable. And like I said, I mostly feel pretty good. I may be a little wobbly, come August, when I'm dropping William off at the elementary school FULL OF GIANT OLDER KIDS, but again, I've got some time to work on that. Plus, William will be attending a couple of weeks of day camp at church this summer, so it's not a complete break altogether just yet.

And oh, we got the sweetest little DVD of the Purple Room that William's teachers made and sent home with him today. I just watched it with him, and we grinned and sniffled through the whole thing.

Still. Wow. I can't believe the end of preschool is already here. I know that it's such a cliche to wax on and on about how it feels like just yesterday I was dropping him off for his first day of "school" at about 16 months. But well, it does sort of feel like that morning wasn't so very long ago.

Remind me of all this in another 13 years when he's about to graduate from high school. I probably won't be able to comprehend how fast the time passes then, either.

Upstairs, downstairs

Andrew can climb stairs now.

You've been forewarned.

Do not turn your back on him if he is within ten feet of a staircase. He will rocket up those steps so fast that your head will spin.

Walking, I think, is imminent. He's already doing that thing where he reaches out toward something, and you think he's going to take a step, but then he thinks better of it, and he sinks to the floor. But he's working up his nerve. I think it's going to happen soon.

Who gave my sweet little baby permission to grow up?

Andrew's first haircut

People always joke about how the second (or third) kid doesn't get nearly as much attention as the first kid did.

You know. No one ever takes as many pictures of the second kid. The second kid has to wear hand-me-downs from his older sibling. The toys aren't all new. The nursery furniture is secondhand. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Here's yet another example to add to the list. Another piece of evidence to lead to conviction, if you will.

I took Andrew to get his first haircut yesterday. But I didn't make an appointment in advance, or make a big fuss over it, or take three dozen photos during the session. He didn't get a special letter or certificate, and I didn't even rush home and blog about it. I was too busy, making sure that his older brother got a decent haircut, too, in fact.

It was almost a non-event, in fact. Well, except that Andrew did NOT like having his hair cut. I had to hold him on my lap, since he was not about to sit in the chair by himself. The lady draped both of us in capes, but his didn't stay on for very long. I finally pulled out my iPhone and showed him a video of William singing in his preschool class to keep him from writhing around.

And I did plunk him down in the front yard for a handful of snapshots when we finally got home. Andrew's hair wasn't very long in the front or on top to begin with, so the hairdresser mostly just trimmed the back. You can't really tell much difference from the front.



















You can see more in this next shot, though. The mullet is gone at last. That's all good.





















But still. I feel a little guilty that there wasn't as much pomp and circumstance around his first haircut. Because it seems like there's never as much pomp and circumstance for him, as the second child!

Uh oh.

When William started talking, his first few words were pretty typical for a baby.

"Cat." "Ball." "Duck." "Mama." "Dada." "Bye bye."

You know, the standards. He has a huge vocabulary now--how many other kids his age do you know who correctly use the words "awkward" and "devour"?--but he started out with the basics.

So what does it say about my younger son that his first real word was "Uh oh"?

That's right. Our sweet little guy


















has a little touch of the mischievous about him.

Oh yes he does. Andrew will drop his sippy cup off the tray of his high chair, lean over to look at it and say cheerfully, "Uh oh." Or he'll knock over a tower of blocks and chirp, "Uh oh!" Or he'll plop down on his bottom from a standing position and say, "Uh oh," like a warning, before rocketing off to get into something.

To be fair, we think he has a few other words now, too. He does say "Mama," although rarely on cue. And sometimes he tacks on an extra syllable so it comes out "Ma ma ma." He also sometimse says "Bye!" And the newest one is my favorite: "Cracker." It sounds more like "Kah-kuh" but it counts. He adores Ritz crackers, so we know what he's referring to.

I can't wait until Andrew starts trying to say "William." I know so many people who ended up with little nicknames because their little brothers or sisters couldn't say their first names correctly. In fact, my great-great aunt went by Bib Bib because some other, very young family member (maybe my grandmother, but I'm not entirely certain) couldn't get "Elizabeth" out. I don't know what "William" might end up sounding like, but I guess we'll find out pretty soon.

It does make me a little sad that Andrew will probably not say "CAT!" the way Baby William did. See, we no longer have the cats around our house; Corky and Smokey live at my in-laws' house, where they are treated like royalty. And as such, they are not subjected to the eager hands of small boys who want to pull tails. Andrew's only seen them a few times because they tend to vanish when we show up at Diane and Aaron's house. So they probably haven't even registered on his radar yet.

It should be fun, though, to see what other new words he starts to pick up. Guess this means we all need to be careful what we say, eh?

Easter photos

Here we are, all dressed up for Easter last Sunday:















We clean up pretty well, eh?

I took William into Big Church with me, which was an...interesting...experience. It wasn't his first time to sit through most or all of a service, but perhaps it wasn't the best time to expect him to do it again. He did enjoy the music, though, as I anticipated. Maybe next year, I can coax him to sing along with the Hallelujah chorus.

Speaking of William, doesn't he look dapper in his seersucker pants and polo shirt?



















I still wish I could have dressed him a "little boy" outfit one more time, but David has objected. And well, I guess since William is five now (see last post), I can see where he's coming from.

Andrew in his Easter outfit:



















It's a little blue pique cotton bubble with sailboats embroidered on the collar. That's what I'm talkin' about! Isn't he precious?

William with Diane and Aaron:

Now we are five

William turned five years old today.

Five. FIVE. F-I-V-E.

This is what five looks like:



















I mean, wow, it just doesn't seem possible.

From this...


















...to this


















...in just five short years:

With his Star Wars birthday cake yesterday:



















With his dear friend Leland:















And in true William fashion, today was a whirlwind day. We started the day with a trip to Pancake Pantry with William's Dee Dee and Grandadaddy Aaron and Uncle Mark. Then Dee Dee took William to Cheekwood to see the new model train exhibit and then on to Sweet CeCe's for frozen yogurt. THEN we went to our church's Easter Egg hunt, then went to soccer practice and THEN went out to dinner at Las Maracas with Leland and her family. (That first picture was taken today after soccer practice.)

William should be in a coma right now, honestly. We finally got him in bed about 15 or 20 minutes ago. I told him, "Hey, you have a whole year to be five now."

It's good to be five, he'll tell you.

_______________

Oh yeah, and a quick anecdote from William's first day as a five-year-old:

Andrew seems to love dogs, and he practically jumped out of my arms this afternoon at the Easter Egg hunt because he wanted to get down to see the host's dog.

So I said to William on the way to soccer practice, "You know, Andrew really seems to like dogs. I think you're more of a cat person, but I think Andrew's going to be a dog person."

William's response: "I think I'm more of a werewolf person."

The last book

Well, you all might have thought I just disappeared, huh?

Nope. I've been (thankfully) busy with a number of freelance articles, as well as a number of other commitments, the last two weeks. I was so busy writing about things like physician-patient email communication, value-based purchasing agreements, and radio talk shows hosted by registered nurses that I didn't have much energy left over to write much else.

Also, the baby was under the weather this weekend, so that also prevented me from sitting down and doing any serious blogging.

But here I am! I should be working on another freelance article, and of course I will get back to that soon, but I just wanted to say hello.

Oh, yes, and to say that we are fast approaching William's (gulp) fifth birthday. His very last book from the Dolly Parton Imagination Library's Books from Birth program arrived in yesterday's mail. Inside the cover is a very sweet letter from Dolly herself encouraging all the big five-year-old graduates to keep on reading, even though they'll no longer be receiving books in the mail.

Sniff. My little guy is growing up. I mean, when we started receiving those books, he was still putting books in his mouth, you know? He was just a little older than Andrew is now, which is incredible to me.

Luckily, I don't think I'm going to have much trouble keeping William interested in books. He's still very devoted to the Elephant and Piggie series by Mo Willems (of Knufflebunny fame), and he still loves the Madeline books, too.

And he's recently discovered The Magic Tree House books. He's been devouring them as fast as we can read them to him. David was gleeful to discover that we can check out electronic copies of those books for the iPad, so we really will be able to read as many of them to him as he wants. And I can't wait for him to realize that, hey, he can read some of those words himself and what might happen if he tries to read a few more?

I remember being his age and really starting to read. It was a wonderful time. We didn't have much money, but it seems like my parents always somehow found enough money to make sure I had plenty of good books to read. I'll always be grateful for that.

So, I'll get on back to my article now, but I'll be back soon to update you on Andrew "Uh Oh" Wyckoff.

William's first soccer game

William had his very first soccer game yesterday!





















The funny part is that the rainy March weather has precluded the team from having any practices except one. So this was the first time the whole team had ever been together at all. No one was sure the rain would hold off long enough for the team to play its first game, so we were all holding our breath yesterday morning, looking out the window at the clouds.

But the rain held off. And when we got the "Game On!" email from Chris...er, Coach Champion...we rushed around like mad, trying to get everything together. We made it in time, although I did have to direct a last-minute wardrobe change. (How was I supposed to know the shin guards go on under the socks? I never played soccer!)

The Coach and some of his rookie players:















The phrase "herding cats" was invoked by more than a few people througout the course of the morning.

That's William wearing No. 8. Sammy (No. 2) and Leland (No. 7) are on either side of him.















William had a whole cheering section there, too. He got my iPhone and called Grandaddy Aaron yesterday morning about 8:15. We just found out that the game was on, and William wanted to make sure that his grandparents knew they were being summoned to witness the momentous event. Aaron got there early, and Diane and Mark followed a few minutes later.

Actually, there was quite a cheering section for the whole team. Three of Leland's grandparents were there, and Sammy's grandmother, grandfather, uncle and aunt were there, too. And of course, Mary Clare, Jaclyn, Bruce and I were there. The one downside of the whole morning was that David was on call and couldn't be there. That was lousy. But he'll have plenty of other chances to see his son in action.

William and Sammy prepare to put their game faces on:





















William during a break in the action poses on the sideline for his mom:



















Ooh, and guess what! William scored a goal! He scored a goal in his very first soccer game! Granted, it was on a free kick, but still. It counted!














That actually isn't it. That's a shot that Mary Clare got of William (he's the one in the middle) headed toward the goal. He kicked that particular shot too wide, though, and it went past the goal. Oh well. He still looks like he knows what he's doing in the picture, doesn't he?


William and Leland enjoyed playing "chase" when they weren't on the field. Don't worry, they had plenty of hustle left for when they were actually playing, too.








































My little optimist had such a good time that, after it was all over, he told the coach of the other team, "This is the best day of my whole life!" He had his peeps there to cheer him on, his buddies to hang out with, and he scored a goal. AND he got a Capri-Sun and Cheez-Its afterward, too.

There is a special place in heaven for William's soccer coach, too. As we all prepared to go home, Chris asked me if there was a bar open anywhere around there. It was 10:30 a.m. But like the Army, Chris had done more than most people would do all day.

Assorted anecdotes from the month of March

So it occurred to me this evening that I have a whole bunch of small stories or anecdotes that I keep meaning to post...and then somehow I never find the time to do it. None of them are really long enough for an entire post, but I still think they're worth remembering. So I'm going to put together what we in the news biz call a "round up" of news from the homefront.

Here goes!

* * *

Being a big fan of Harry Potter, William likes to make "potion" in the bathtub these days. That is, when he's not hugging Andrew half to death or sending huge waves of water out onto the bathroom floor. Okay, to be fair, Andrew really is the one who makes the most mess. He's taken to throwing those little stacking cups out of the tub and soaking the bathmat.

But I digress.

Where was I again? Oh yes, the potion. So William made a "potion" tonight out of bathwater and Suave coconut-scented 'no tears' shampoo for kids. He mixed it up in a little red plastic baseball helmet that held a soft-serve ice cream sundae at a baseball game, once upon a time.

He showed to me and proudly announced that it was a special potion that would make you feel like red hot lava! (He's very interested in volcanoes these days, too.)

I didn't have the heart to tell him that something like that already exists. They call it "moonshine."

* * *

When I asked him who he wanted to pray for tonight, he came up with the people of Japan, Egypt, and Libya. All on his own, without any prompting or suggestions from me. I'm pretty darned proud of him right now.

* * *

Andrew now likes to hold onto the railing of his crib and jump up and down. You can hear the thumping all over the house. He loves to do it first thing in the morning, especially. So now that is how we mostly find him after he's been asleep, although occasionally we'll sneak up on him while he's still sitting up and "reading" his books. And there was one morning last week when I walked into his room, and he was sitting down. When he saw me come in, he began to clap. How can you top that for a greeting, I ask you?

* * *

So you know how William likes to eat just about everything, except for maybe lettuce? Well, Andrew's eating pretty well these days now, too, much to my relief. However, his favorite foods are 1) toast, 2) toast, 3) bread, 4) green peas and 5) toast. He also loves bananas, peaches, yogurt and did I mention toast and bread? If he's close enough to you, he will actually take a piece of bread out of your hand and stuff it into his mouth. I had a piece of raisin toast clenched in my teeth the other day, and he snatched it away and crammed it into his mouth before I even knew what was happening. The boy loves his bread.

* * *

My mom was visiting last week, and I was so glad that she was here while all the trees were starting to burst into bloom. Nashville really is beautiful in the springtime, and we all enjoyed seeing the Bradford pear trees and daffodils in bloom.

Mom pointed out the yellowbelle bushes in bloom to William and told him about how her grandmother always loved to see their yellow blossoms. Now, every time we see a particularly gorgeous yellowbelle bush, William says that it reminds him of his Mama Judi.


* * *

Both of William's preschool teachers are getting married very soon, so the moms of all the kids in the class threw them a surprise bridal shower a couple of weeks ago. It was gorgeous. In fact, it was nicer than my wedding!

I think the teachers were excited, and the kids had a ball. One of the moms had the genius idea of buying a bunch of those disposable cameras and setting one at each child's place at the table. So the kids had a big time taking pictures of themselves, their friends, their teachers, the moms, Andrew (he was there, too), and all the decorations. I hope that whoever gets the film developed shares some of the photos from those.

Each of the boys got a boutonniere to pin to his shirt, and the girls all received mini bouquets of flowers. The teachers each got a white ball cap with "Bride" emblazoned on them. In this picture of William with Miss Davies, you can see the hat, the boutonniere, and one of the cameras:

The park

We went to Woodmont Park this afternoon. It was warm and breezy, and oh, just so lovely.

William immediately took off for the slides.



I plunked Andrew down on our picnic blanket with some toys, and he just had a good old time.













William did make an occasional reappearance:



Andrew played a little peekaboo, too.



And a serious picture (I like to think of this one as being titled "Playing is Very Serious Work"):



Today reminded me of another early spring afternoon, a long time ago in a galaxy far far away (okay, in California). Anyone want to join me in a waltz down Memory Lane to a time when Baby William played happily on the same picnic blanket?

The secret's out on Chuck E. Cheese

On the way home from a birthday party at BounceU this afternoon, William was talking about all his favorite birthday party venues. It seems that BounceU, Glow Galaxy and West Side Athletic Club are all at the top of the list right now.

Then he said, "And did you know, Mommy, there's this place called Chuck E. Cheese? They have games and stuff and parties there, too."

Inwardly, I groaned. Aw, MAN. I ALMOST made it to his fifth birthday without him finding out about Chuck E. Cheese. I've managed to keep the knowledge of Chuck E. Cheese from him all this time, and someone blew the whistle.

Yeah, yeah, I know they have Skee-ball, and yes, I adore Skee-ball. Yes, I loved it as a kid, too. But I'm oooooold now. And at least if it's anything the way I remember it being, Chuck E. Cheese is so LOUD. And so EXPENSIVE. And so GERMY. And the pizza is so LOUSY. Okay, so the germy party doesn't really bother me; every kiddie place is germy, and besides, that's David's bugaboo. But STILL.

"Oh?" I asked calmly. "Where'd do you hear about this Chuck E. Cheese place?"

I played it cool. As if I'd never heard of Chuck E. Cheese before and was only mildly interested.

Turns out a couple of his friends from school let him in on the secret. (Gee, thanks, y'all.) It's going to be hard to put the rabbit back in the hat now. Or the cow in the barn. Or the cat in the bag. Or whatever animal metaphor people use for this sort of situation.

I think I managed to distract him with talk of candy. (He was eating a blue raspberry ring pop, and he was delighted by the way it was turning his mouth a vivid shade of Smurf blue.) Maybe he'll forget we talked about it. Or maybe he's not really that intrigued by it because it's still an abstract concept to him.

That's what I'm hoping for, anyway.

Friday Night Fatigue

When I was working my first full-time job right out of college, my friend Loretta and I used to refer to the bone-deep exhaustion that we felt at the end of each work week as "Friday Night Fatigue."

There were some Friday nights that we'd hit a Happy Hour at a local bar or restaurant after work, and then we'd head home to crash when it was over. And yes, the Happy Hours were usually over by 7 p.m. Eventually, we got used to the demands of a regular work week, and Friday night wasn't quite as exhausting. But it was still a night where we sometimes felt more like collapsing than playing.

Fast forward 15 years... a couple of hours ago, I was sitting at the dinner table while William told me about Batman missions and Andrew shovelled peas into his mouth, and a wave of exhaustion washed over me. Granted, I'm not as tired in general now that Andrew is a big boy who sleeps through the night, but I'm still pretty tired by 6 or 7 p.m. each evening. And that goes doubly for Friday evenings. Especially on Fridays when I'm crazy enough to take both boys to the grocery store before dinner. (We needed yogurt, bananas, and bread. And peas. And $70 worth of other stuff.)

How is it that my children ramp up even more in the evenings, just when I'm starting to shut down? The sheer amount of noise that William was making tonight in the bathtub was just astounding. How does he have that much energy? He was in preschool all week. Shouldn't he be tired, too?

Good old Friday Night Fatigue. I'm not the only one in my household who feels it, either. I bet, when I go upstairs in a few minutes, that David will be sacked out on the playroom couch. He was going to watch one of the SEC tournament basketball games, but I bet he conked out. It's like by a certain age, if you sit still for more than a certain amount of minutes, you just fall asleep. You're powerless to resist. Your body shuts down. And in David's case, he operated on a major sleep deficit for years during residency. He may never catch up.

'Nighty-night.

Not such a giant

So all the fretting I've been doing for the past couple of months over Andrew's size?

Pointless. Needless. Silly, even.

As of last Thursday, Andrew was 30 inches long, which puts him at the 50th percentile mark. Hurrah for average! For comparison's sake, I will note that that is almost exactly the same length that William was at the same age, maybe a smidge longer.

And he was 20 pounds and 6 ounces, which was glorious news to me because he'd had a terrible stomach virus the week before and barely ate for about five days. David and I think that he lost at least a pound or so from the yuckiness. I was nervous that he wouldn't even crack the 20 pound mark, but he did. And he's been eating like a crazy man ever since, too.

The weight puts Andrew at around the 20th percentile, which is not terribly surprising, given the trajectory he's been on for the last few months. I would have been surprised that he didn't weigh more at the one-year-mark if you'd told me all this about six or seven months ago, but there it is.

As our pediatrician noted, look at Andrew's parents. We're not exactly giants. Andrew's size makes total sense when you look at David. He may have started out life as a big old baby, thanks to my giant placenta and umbilical cord, but then he had to live life on the outside. And that included coming to terms with the fact that he's his daddy's son, and his daddy is not a large man. David's about the only person I know, in fact, who could still wear clothes that he wore in high school. (Not that he necessarily should, but he could, if he wanted to.) Andrew's built like David. Maybe he'll be a good runner, too.

But at least he weighs more than 20 pounds. And because Andrew weighs more than 20 pounds, we could turn his car seat around and have him face forward. But since he doesn't seem to mind being rear-facing--after all, he has William in the seat next to him to entertain him--we're going to keep him rear-facing for awhile longer. The AAP recommends it now, and I don't see any major reason to turn him around for now. Still, it's nice to know that we could. If we had to.

To the Batcave!

Last Christmas, we...I mean, Santa gave William a Batcave toy. It's essentially a Batman-themed dollhouse for little boys. But instead of a nursery for the baby doll, it has a jail for the bad guys. And instead of a kitchen, it has a command center.

That was some of the best money that Santa ever spent. It was not only a huge hit, but more than a year later, William still plays with it almost every day.

But there is a downside of having such a beloved toy. That downside is for his parents, of course: William always wants us to play Batman missions*--and he wants us to play those missions with him to his exact specifications. You see, if you've never had the opportunity to play a Batman mission with William, let me fill you in on what happens.

(*"Mission" is William's current favorite word to describe a session of play. I believe that it came from playing the Star Wars Lego game. It replaced his previous favorite word, which was "episode." If you have to interrupt playtime to, say, answer the phone or go to the bathroom, William will call out, "Pause the mission!" When you return to the play area, William will then say, "Unpause the mission.")

The unofficial rules of any and all Batman missions directed by William:

Rule No. 1: William is in charge. No exceptions.

Rule No. 2: You do not get to choose which Batman character you get to be. William will choose for you. You are very unlikely to ever get the chance to be Black Batman. On a really really good day, however, you might land the chance to be Arctic Batman. You are more likely to be assigned Superman and Robin, however.

Rule No. 3: William gets to decide the objective of the mission. Typically the main objective of any Batman mission is to defeat the bad guys and throw them into the Batcave jail. Usually but not always the bad guys have taken refuge under those dreaded strongholds of evil, the sofa cushions. However, no matter where they are hiding out, laughing their evil laughs, they must be brought back to the Batcave jail.

Rule No. 4: You have absolutely no say in what happens on the mission. If you attempt to make any independent decisions about action taken on the mission without getting William's prior approval, your idea will immediately be shot down with virtually no chance of reconsideration.

Rule No. 5: You are expected to make sure your characters carry on a sparkling conversation throughout the mission. Apparently there is no such thing as the strong silent type on a William-led Batman mission. They can't just stand there. Good dialogue is key. And in case you forget, William will remind you to make sure the characters keep talking.

If you keep all those points in mind, you'll do okay. You may be tempted to put your head down on the floor a little bit, but at least you won't cause any major existential Batman arguments.

Some missions are better than others if you stray just a little bit but still stick reasonably close to the rules, even if they do bear a striking resemblance to all the previous missions. Every once in awhile, William will be feeling very magnanimous and he'll let me be Green Lantern. That's always good. Today, he even let me have Green Lantern and Arctic Batman talk about the day earlier this week when Arctic Batman went to preschool with William for show-and-tell. Arctic Batman had chips for a snack while hanging out in William's totebag, in case you were curious.

But there are some days when I just. can't. play. another. Batman. mission. I've had to turn William down for the sake of my own sanity. Sometimes I'm genuinely working on a freelance story, but other times, I just don't want to do it. I say, "Hey, wanna watch TV? I think "Dinosaur Train" is on..."

Of course, every time I do that, I swear I hear the strains of "Cat's in the Cradle" playing in my head. One day he'll be all grown up, and I'll be all lonely and sad and wailing, "Why, oh why, didn't I play more Batman missions with William when he was four?"

I guess I can go make up for it, though. As I am typing this, William is standing right next to me, saying, "I really want to play a Batman mission." I am capitulating. I told him to go "get the mission ready" and I'll be in there in a minute. What can I say? It's that darned song, getting to me.

William with Green Lantern and Arctic Batman:

Shoe shopping

Oh my God, it is painful to buy shoes for a growing boy. In the past two days, I have spent (gulp) more than $100 on shoes for William. My checkbook hurts.

That's right. I've spent more on shoes for my four-year-old son than I have on shoes for myself in ages even though my shoe size will stay the same and his won't. But he outgrew all his shoes all of a sudden, and what was I going to do? I can't make him mince around in shoes that are too tight, which it seems that he's actually been doing, without even complaining, bless him.

Here's part of the problem. Like his mama, William has wide feet. The brand spankin' new saddle shoes that are sitting upstairs in a box in his room are a size 12 EE. The New Balance sneakers are a 12.5 W. Those are some Fred Flintstone-esque dimensions, kids.

I'm feeling for him, too. You put some sassy little strappy sandals on my feet, and it looks like you're trying to resurrect foot binding.

But the reality is that it's harder to find wide shoes at places like Target and at consignment sales. So we're usually stuck buying brand new ones at the kiddie shoe stores. I mean, it's worth it to get shoes that really fit William's feet and are comfortable for him to wear. But when you have to buy more than one pair at a time, it's painful, financially speaking.

Mr. Randy at the shoe store did point out that both pairs I purchased are very sturdy shoes and it's very likely I could hand down at least the dress shoes to Andrew in a few years. True. If William doesn't destroy them first, which is not a foregone conclusion. In the past William had a not-so-charming habit of dragging his feet across the asphalt parking lot at church, resulting in big dark welts gouged into the tops of his nice church shoes. He hasn't done it as much in recent months, but I won't hold my breath that he won't find some other creative way to break in his nice new shoes.

And I am going to start cruising eBay and the Stride Rite website for sales on wide shoes for small boys. And Nashville folks, if you see any boys' shoes at a consignment sale in decent shape in a 12.5, call me and let me know.

The birthday boy and his cake

On Wednesday, William and I picked out a Sesame Street birthday cake at Publix, and the cake came with a free "smash cake" for Andrew to have all to himself. We picked them up this morning, along with a Sesame Street balloon, and prepared for Andrew's first birthday party, which we had this evening.

And what would a first birthday party be without a camera, right?

Here, Andrew was thinking, "Here I am, all cute in my birthday bib and crown, mugging for the camera! Hi, Mom!"




















But then I put the cake in front of him, and I could practically hear him thinking, "Vot? Vot ees dees theeng? Vy ees she putting eet in front of meeeee? No! NOOOOOOO!"




















(He doesn't always have a bad German accent in my head, just so you know.)

And finally, Andrew grudgingly gave the frosting a try. He seemed to like it. The cake, maybe not so much, but the frosting was a qualified success. There was no euphoric "CAKE!" moment like William had when he was eating his first birthday cake, but at least he was interested. I should note that this is the kid who would rather eat cold green peas from the fridge more than almost anything else on earth. He'll casually throw Cheerios and banana pieces onto the floor, but he almost never tosses peas onto the floor.
















Of course, then he started flinging handfuls of icing and cake off the highchair tray and onto the floor. All done.


















He liked his present from William more than the frosting, though.



















And he liked playing with his daddy the best of all.




















Needless to say, Andrew was plumb tuckered out by the end of the evening.
















(I had to use a nice down-home folksy phrase like "plumb tuckered out" because he was just so darn cute that it deserved that type of phrase. Don't you reckon so?)

Onward toward William's fifth birthday, I guess. I have an almost-two-month breather to get ready for whatever that ends up being.

Andrew turns one: a retrospective

How did my baby boy go from this....



...to this, in just twelve short months?



Hard to believe it's been an entire year since the cold February morning when David and I went to the hospital in anticipation of our second son's birth. I remember lying propped up in the bed in the labor and delivery room and watching the snow fall outside my window. I remember looking over at the warmer across the room and thinking, with a shock, "Oh my God, there's going to be a baby on that in a little while. My baby!" Andrew ended up being born by c-section later on, at 6:31 p.m.

And here he is, a year old. I can't believe it! In some ways, and I know this will sound weird, he seems younger at one year than William did. Is it because I still have William around, only now he's nearly five and does nearly-five-year-old things that contrast so sharply with what a one-year-old does? Maybe.

Regardless, I'm delighted that Andrew is one. I feel like I made it over a major hurdle. I kept my child alive until at least his first birthday. Woohoo!

On Easter:



















Super Brothers!
















Last spring, in a dressing gown made by my friend Betsy:




















On the Fourth of July:




















Playing with Daddy:




















With William at Grandaddy Bill's house last October:



















Pumpkin Baby:




















Andrew and William conferring over when they think Santa Claus is going to arrive:
















In the bathtub last week, wearing a foam letter on his head, courtesy of William:
















This morning, in his birthday shirt, if not his birthday suit:



















Happy birthday, big guy. I'm so glad that you came to join our family.