Goooooal!

William scored a goal!



I wasn't there to see it, but his dad and his grandfather have both assured me that it was awesome. And more importantly, William played hard during today's soccer game. That's what really matters most.




I'm really proud of him for playing hard. Goal-scoring is nice, but I am just glad that he's really gotten into playing. William tends to do most things with enthusiasm, so I probably shouldn't be too surprised. But I'm still glad.



The older I get, the more I value enthusiasm. I think it's highly underrated, actually. Little kids tend to be enthusiastic, and then as they grow up, they get more jaded and want to be cool. And the enthusiasm--at least, the visible enthusiasm--wanes. Well, guess what. Sometimes cool is not cool. And um, that's a total tangent. Hooray for enthusiastic kindergarteners playing soccer!

Moving to Nashville

It occurred to me recently that I never get around to trying to post pictures here from my iPhone, even though I have an iPhone 4s with a really good camera.

Let's give it a try....
















That, as you can see, is Andrew. Andrew in his beloved red shoes. "Red shoes!" he crows happily when I tell him it's time to put on his shoes. "RED SHOOOOOZZZE!" He is standing by the door to the screened-in porch at my parents' new house.

Yes, my parents are moving to Nashville. Mom is officially retiring from her school job in May, and she'll become a full-time resident of the Music City shortly thereafter. Not that she's counting the days (okay, actually she is). Daddy will continue to work in Memphis for a little while longer, and he'll drive back and forth. Grandaddy Bill, my 94-year-old grandfather will move to Nashville, too, and live in an as-yet-to-be-determined assisted living facility.

I've been looking forward to my family moving here for so long that I hadn't stopped to think about the fact that this will be the end of Road Trips to Grandma's House as my children know them. Well, as William knows them. Andrew's only made a couple of road trips in his two years, neither of which he will remember.

Now, I could get all sentimental about what it's like to take a big trip to the grandparents' house. And I started to do that. I started to think about how much I always looked forward to visiting my own grandparents when I was a child, how I stockpiled books and treats for the car trip, and loaded film into my camera in anticipation. And I wondered if my children were going to miss out on that whole experience and wish that they'd had the chance to go somewhere different occasionally and see new things.

Then I came to my senses. I adore living in Nashville, and I think my parents will like it, too. But beyond that, they'll get to have the experience of getting to know their grandchildren and spending time with them on a more regular basis. My in-laws live here, and I love that they have a good relationship with William and Andrew because they get to see them both on a regular basis. I want my parents to have a similar benefit. Instead of having to stay with us for a week, they can drop in for Sunday night dinner or show up for a Saturday afternoon soccer game. And then they can go home and sleep in their own beds and have all their own stuff right there. They can go to school on Grandparents' Day or have lunch with the boys, or (hint hint) do a little babysitting. But they don't have to cram in all their grandparenting into a four-day trip here or a week there. I think it will be good for everyone--and probably less exhausting.

I admit that a small part of me will miss our trips to Natchez. I didn't get a chance to go to Natchez this year, and it doesn't look like I'm going to get the chance to return before Mom moves up here. I will have to remember all the good memories from my past trips. The upside to this is that I'll never have to subject myself to a marathon road trip on the slow-going Natchez Trace with tired, grumpy, hungry little boys in the backseat. The downside, of course, is that I won't get a chance to say goodbye to the little town that welcomed me during a tough part of my life. I'm still not entirely sure how I managed to make it to Natchez with 11-week-old William, but I'm glad I did.

You're a wizard, William...

Tomorrow is "Dress as Your Favorite Character from a Book" Day in William's kindergarten class.

Look at what I can do with a Revlon eyeliner pencil!



Some mad cosmetic skilz there, am I right, folks?

I think they're doing this in honor of Dr. Seuss' birthday. I'm just glad that he didn't have to dress as his favorite character from a Dr. Seuss book because I don't know where I would have dug up a costume for, I don't know, Sam I Am or someone like that.

William's more into the Magic Treehouse books and the Harry Potter books than the Dr. Seuss book right now, so we decided to go with those. After all, he could have been either Harry Potter or Jack from the Magic Treehouse books with the same pair of glasses.

Can't wait to get him all dressed in his robes and scarf tomorrow, too.

Andrew at two

Andrew turned two years old on Friday, February 24. Happy birthday, sweet boy!

Here he is with his "Elmo boon" that he got for his birthday (don't worry, he got other presents, too. He might be the second kid, but come on, give me some credit):




















You know, I often fretted about how it might be hard for a second child to come into our family, what with William having such a larger-than-life personality. I wondered how on earth another child could possibly keep up or compare.

Ha. Ha ha ha ha ha! As it turned out I had absolutely no reason to worry whatsoever. Andrew more than holds his own. No worries about this kiddo. In some ways, he is more tentative than William, who has never met a stranger, but in other ways, he is far more fearless. He is most definitely His Very Own Self.

He loves Elmo, canteloupe, his big brother Wuhhh-lum, balls, diggers, Special K, fish sticks, Corduroy the bear, Clifford the Big Red Dog, and Cookie Monster. He tells everyone to have a good day, and he loves to ride in the beep-beep car. His favorite item of clothing is his new red shoes, followed closely by his zip-zip jammies. He ends every meal by inquiring hopefully, "Go play Elmo?" He is not afraid of the big slide in our backyard, and he wants to brush his own teeth, thank you very much. Sometimes he gets very quiet, and I get nervous, but when I creep off to find him, he'll be sitting there in a pile of books, very carefully flipping the pages and studying the pictures.

Here's a retrospective, since I always enjoy looking at old photos of my little guys, and I hope you will, too.

Andrew, shortly after birth:







































Look how small he was on that big quilt!







































































Oh, yeah, check this next one out. He's never been afraid of those stairs at all. As soon as he started crawling, he wanted to take on the staircase. And then, once he started walking, he was determined to master walking up and down the stairs as soon as possible. None of that babyish crawling or scooting on the stairs for Andrew. No sir. In fact, he goes up and down those stairs so fast now that it will take your breath away. I'm trying not to think about it.











































































































And the birthday boy with his white chocolate raspberry birthday cake. He bypassed his own plate of cake and tried to go straight for the rest of the entire cake with his little monkey fork. Silly boy. Although I can't blame him...it was darn good cake.

A weekend snow day

Snow!



Sort of. We've had a mild winter, but we had a big long wave of wet snowy flakes this morning. Even though William had a fever last night, he begged me to let him go outside for just a few minutes. He couldn't bear to miss what might be his only chance to get out in the snow.

And since I had ZERO pictures of Andrew in snow, I needed to take him out for a little while, too.



Poor Andrew. He finally managed to get over the unpleasant sensation of big wet things landing on his face and started enjoying himself. He went off, having fun toddling around for a few minutes. Then he took off running and wiped out on the wet sidewalk. That about did it for him. I had wanted to get a picture of the boys together, but he was sobbing. Then he fell in the yard on the way back to the porch and got his knees and legs all muddy and wet.

And so we came back inside.

Incidentally, I am grateful that today is Sunday and tomorrow is a school holiday. We won't have to use any snow days for this, woohooo!

Talking up a storm

Andrew is talking up a storm these days. A veritable storm. He's repeating things that we say, and we can actually understand him. And he's making up his own little short sentences and phrases, and most of the time, I can actually figure out what he's saying or trying to say.

Relief!

David says that Andrew's right in the middle of the normal range when it comes to speech and language development for his age. It's just that William was so freakishly verbal from such an early age (in a good way, sweetie, she says, in case William is one day reading this) that it seemed odd that Andrew wasn't talking as much as William was at the same age.

Well, Andrew seems to be making up for lost time.

My current favorite thing is what Andrew always says when William leaves him. Every morning, William hops out of the minivan and scampers down the sidewalk into the school. And every morning, Andrew looks longingly after his beloved big brother and says, "Bye, Wuhhhm. Ha' a good day!" He says a similar version of this if William happens to leave the house too. I wish you could have seem him standing at the front door the other day, waving after his brother and calling "Bye, Wuhhhhm! Bye, Wuhhhmmm!"

"Wuhhhm" is also starting to sound a lot more like "William," too. I think I might really miss it when Andrew no longer calls him "Wuhhhhm." I still miss a lot of William's old toddler expressions, like "tomos" instead of "tomatoes" and the way he used to say "Super Rocketship!" when he got all excited. Very few of William's Williamisms hung on for a very long time, much to my dismay. David and I still call the remote control the "mote-can retrol" because we think it's funny, but honestly, William only called it that for a month or so. It wasn't even like we tried to correct him, either. He just figured it out on his own and started using the correct words. Bummer.

My other favorite Andrewism right now is the way that he says "beep beep car" for "car." William, David and I have all fallen into the habit of referring to a car or any vehicle as "a beep beep car." And Andrew's zippered pajamas are now the, you guessed it, "zip zip jammies." I have a jacket that is the "zip zip coat." I love this. Something about the way he gleefully says "zip zip!"

Ah, my sweet baby boy. He's going to be two in two weeks, and I can't quite believe it.

This year, I resolve to...

Happy New Year!

What? Okay, so I'm a couple of, er, weeks late. I've been busy. We've been busy. It's been a busy time.

But here we are in 2012. So far this year, we've had a trip to the doctor, two sick days and a snow day. Actually, that was just since Wednesday. Yeah, we've been busy.

My brother even came into town for a night, which felt like no time at all. But I did at least snap a good photo of him with the boys while he was here. This may not seem monumental to you, but let me assure you that it is. All three of them are looking at the camera and smiling. At the same time. Miracle of miracles.



















So anyway. Y'all know that I'm not much of one for New Year's Resolutions. Some years, I half-heartedly make a few. Some years I don't bother. I'm a little cynical about them. I tend to think of New Year's Resolutions as well-intentioned promises that are nearly impossible to keep. At least for me, that is.

Last year, I said I wanted to get some of my articles published in national publications--and I did! Granted, it was on the websites of national publications, but if you ask me, I still think that should count. But I didn't really consider that a New Year's Resolution. It was more of a professional goal made at a time at which it was natural to outline some new professional goals. Let's not argue semantics, though.

Just for fun, I asked William if he knew what a New Year's Resolution was. He mulled it over for a minute and then admitted that he didn't. I explained what they were. And he said he wanted to make one for himself. And he did! His resolution for 2012 is to be able to read chapter books. (Not necessarily the big long hard chapter books, but perhaps some simple chapter books). I said that I thought that sounded like a great idea.

And he's already working toward that goal. Right after William returned to school, his teacher decided to put him in the Accelerated Reader program. He's not overly impressed with himself for this accomplishment but he is looking forward to getting to answer questions on the computer about the books he reads. The computer part is what sold him on the advantage to working hard enough to qualify for Accelerated Reader. It's all about technology with kids these days. In MY day, we had to answer questions about books we read with a PENCIL and a PIECE OF WIDE-RULED PAPER. In the SNOW. BAREFOOT. Who remembers having to write out book reports on loose-leaf paper? Raise your hands, kids, if you ever sweated over a term paper that you wrote out with your Bic pen and your trusty bottle of Wite-Out by your side. (Okay, no, I didn't have to do that in kindergarten. It wasn't until fourth or fifth grade. But I still have flashbacks about it.)

So reading chapter books is William's goal for 2012. And my goal for him is to learn how to swim. For real this time. No floaties. No pool noodles. No doggie paddle. If I have to call it a New Year's resolution to make it happen, I will. It just needs to happen. The summer seems like eons away now, but it will be here soon, and the boys will be clamoring to go to the pool. William has got to be able to swim without me. Andrew is shaping up to be our daredevil, and I'm going to need both hands and both feet to keep up with him.

If you're wondering if Andrew has any New Year's Resolutions, the answer is, "I don't know." I know that David is eager to make him get rid of his pacifier. But Andrew himself isn't so hot on that idea. We'll see who has the stronger will.

Olive you

What's the one Must Have item for your Christmas stocking?

For my husband, it's baseball cards. His mom...er, Santa Claus...always put a pack or two of baseball cards in the toe of his stocking when he was a child. When we got married, the task transferred over to me.

For William, it looks like it's going to be a small Lego set of some sort. I think this is the third year in a row he's gotten something Lego in his stocking, and I guess that makes it a tradition, right?

For me, it's olives. Yeah, you didn't see that one coming, did you? Not unless you are my friend Giles from church, who is the only other person on the planet who absolutely must receive olives in his Christmas stocking. Frankly, I'm amazed that that it's not just me.

And I actually don't know how it started for me. I just know that from the time I was very small, Santa's little red-haired elf (that would be my mom) always put a can of black olives in my Christmas stocking. Back then, I derived great pleasure from shoving my fingers into the little hollow olives so it would look like I had big swollen black fingernails. So appetizing, no? Since I got my own can of olives, no one could tell me to cut it out either. They were all for me, for me! for me! so I could do whatever I wanted with them. Ah, the good old days.

When I got married, the chore of buying olives and making sure they found their way into my stocking fell to my husband. That got tricky when we were flying back and forth between California and Tennessee at Christmas. Since we weren't allowed to even carry water bottles onto the plane in the post-9/11 era, there wasn't much chance that David could get away with sneaking a heavy glass jar of olives in his carry-on bag. So my mother-in-law or my brother-in-law had to step in and make a last-minute run to Kroger to scoop up a jar. I love that they all did this, even though I know they must have thought it was utterly absurd.

And yes, it was a jar by then. My taste got fancier as I got older, and a plain old can of generic black olives was no longer quite as desirable. Santa and his elves took to buying jars of Kalamata olives. Last year, I even got TWO jars. That was all good. One jar even featured olives that were stuffed with sun-dried tomatoes. I'm feeling a little dreamy, just remembering. But still, every year, there was always, always, always a container of olives. Of some sort. There had to be. And there was.

This year, my poor husband got a indescribable (trust me on this) case of stomach flu on December 22. He even stayed home from work on Dec. 23, which should tell you something because it practically requires an Act of Congress to convince him to call in sick. But he managed to somehow get to the store and buy a jar of olives (green this year, interestingly) and put them in my stocking on Christmas Eve. Along with an iTunes card, it was all I got, but it was what mattered. Don't get me wrong, I love the olives themselves, but what I love most is that someone loves me enough to humor me every year and indulge me in my quirky little affinity. David also puts ice cubes in my orange juice, even though he also thinks that's weird. That's love, kids.

What about you? Does Santa always bring you lip balm or a grapefruit or slippers or what?

Merry Christmas!

I'll give a full recap later, but I just wanted to wish you and your families a very merry Christmas from me and my boys.



Hope it was quieter at your house than it was at ours!

Kids say the darndest things

A few random out-of-the-mouths-of babes from my house today...yes, just today.

*William: "The PBS Kids shows are supposed to be educational. [Pause.] I'm not sure what 'The Cat in the Hat' is teaching."

*Andrew, upon listening to the page with "Goodnight mush" in his much beloved copy of "Goodnight Moon:" "Bye, oatmeal!"

*William asked if there was an opposite of "dehydrate." I explained that, yes, "hydrate" is the opposite. And then I tried to get all scholarly and explained the Greek root of the word "hydrate" means "water." Except that I said "hydra" instead of "hydro" or "hydros." And William immediately corrected me. "Mo-om," he said. "A hydra is a mythical creature that when you cut off its head, three more grow back in its place." Yeah, wow. Did you know that when you were five years old? (Except don't be too impressed: he apparently learned this from an episode of "The Super Hero Squad.")

Santa's ersatz little helper

So help me figure this one out, kids.

When I was at Target today, I realized that I really needed to pick up a couple of extra things for Andrew's stocking. We have tons of stuff stashed away for William's, but only a few for his baby brother. I figured that I could sneak a couple of things into the shopping cart without William noticing.

Except that I couldn't. Somehow, perhaps with his x-ray vision, William spotted the little package of Sesame Street figurines beneath the pile of other junk on the conveyor belt at the cash register.

"Hey, you're getting the Cookie Monster and Telly set," he said, happily. (Andrew adores Cookie Monster nearly as much as he loves Elmo, and he doesn't have a Telly yet. By the way, did I mention that Andrew can now say "Elmo"? He used to say "Elba" but just this week made the leap to the real name. It's terribly adorable.)

Thinking fast, I said, "Um, yeah, Santa asked me to grab a couple of extra things for Andrew in case he needs anything for his stocking. What do you think?"

William thought about that and shook his head. "No, I think you should just give them to him, and let Santa do the stockings himself."

Ugh.

So now what?

Say cheese. Please?

Every year about this time, I begin the process of trying to get a good photograph to use for a Christmas card picture.

And I am here to tell you: it is SO unreasonably difficult to get a good photo of both boys.

I mean, I've done some hard things in my life...I've given birth, I've written and defended a master's thesis, I've driven all the way across the United States with my mom...but getting a good picture of both my kids? Just about impossible.

If Andrew's smiling, then William's looking away from the camera. If William's smiling, Andrew's moving and blurring the shot. If they're both actually looking at the camera at the same time, then Andrew is likely to have his hand in his mouth. Or William has his patented Fake Smile on his face.

Last year, I got lucky. Andrew was crawling last year, but he wasn't walking. It was much easier to plunk him down somewhere and then cajole William into the picture next to him. Yes, there was a little drama, but it wasn't insurmountable. I managed to get a few good pictures of the two of them together in their matching Christmas outfits and cobble together a decent card.

This year, not so much.

I mean, when this is the best I can do...

















it leaves you hoping for something better. Well, it leaves me hoping for something better, anyway.

Same for this:



















You'd think from this photo that Andrew never smiles, and he's almost always smiling.

Sigh.

Well, what can I do? I guess I'll keep working on it. Insert comment about the Holy Grail here.

Gratitude

Does everyone's family go around the dinner table at Thanksgiving and say what they are thankful for?

No? Yeah, neither does mine. I wish we did, though. I have so much I'm grateful for, and I think it really hits home when I sit down and list it out. Usually, however, various family members are champing at the bit to EAT ALREADY, so we do a short blessing and then have at it. This year, at least, we all sang "God Our Father," under the direction of William, and those few seconds, at least, were magical enough to make me feel profound gratitude.

But I still think this is a good exercise, so I'm going to do it anyway.

I am thankful for:

my husband, David;
my mom and daddy;
my brother;
my grandfathers;
my in-laws, Diane and Aaron, and BIL Mark;
my nice warm house;
my friends;
my church;
my life in Nashville;
my health and the health of my loved ones;
my career as a writer;
all the good fortune that I have enjoyed and continue to enjoy;
Diet Coke, Mozart's Requiem, Red Vines, Trader Joe's, good books worth rereading, cashmere and my iPhone.

But most of all, I'm thankful for these two little guys:


















They make my heart full.

Random November pictures of the boys

Just a few random photos for your enjoyment, if you have a bit of downtime over the Thanksgiving holiday...

Tooth No. 2: Gone. Gone but not forgotten. In fact, not even really gone. William wrote a note to the Tooth Fairy to ask if he could keep this one, and she magnanimously acquiesced. She's a good egg, that Tooth Fairy.















Here's a shot taken on the very last day of the fall soccer season. Why yes, it was bitterly cold that morning at 7:50 a.m. Why ever do you ask?















Young Master Andrew and his train. He has had a haircut since this photo was taken and put on more clothes.















Here's William, with the rest of his class, all costumed up for the class Thanksgiving program yesterday. Just so you know, the program was glorious. They did the Turkey Trot and the Turkey Tango, and it was awesome.















Also, a little boy read a Thanksgiving "play," in which half the students were Indians and half were Pilgrims. Despite the fact that he was an Indian man for most of the play, William also played the role of the Pilgrim minister. So every few lines, when the other boy read the words "And the Pilgrim minister...." William got to shout "Amen!" like he was leading a tent revival. While still wearing his Indian costume and feather headdress. It was very mysterious. But still kind of awesome.

Hope you all have a marvelous Turkey Day!

What is most important?

Isn't it amazing, how children can sometimes cut through all the junk and really hone in on what's important?

A few weeks ago, William and I were in Target. A good friend of mine is expecting a baby in January. I had gotten her a sweet little jon-jon for the baby to wear to church, but I was dithering back and forth about whether to buy something extra to stick in a package. Should I pick up a package of binkies, I wondered. Maybe a little package of diapering essentials, like diaper cream and wipes, I thought. Or maybe I should pick up a few random little things like socks and extra burp cloths.

But I couldn't decide. I looked over at William, who was deeply immersed in the Lego Hero Factory toys. For a five-year-old, he usually has pretty good ideas, so I decided to ask him.

"Hey, William," I said. "What do you think a new baby needs? What's the most important thing for a new baby to have?"

I expected him to say something like "a pacifier" or "a lovey" or even "diapers." I figured, I'd go with whatever he came up with.

William didn't even look up from the toys. "Love," he said immediately.

Yes.

And if you ever wanted to know why I am so incredibly glad that I am a parent, that is the reason why. Because I have a son who instinctively knows what's important in life and can remind me. It is the little tiny miracles like that that keep me going.

(I meant to post this anecdote sooner, but someone suggested I make sure to preserve it for posterity, so here it is.)

Happy Halloween, the 2011 edition

So a frog and Darth Vader walked into a bar...



















The bummer about William being Darth Vader for Halloween this year was that you can't actually tell that it's him, with his smiling face, beneath that grim evil costume. But he was happy. He loooooved being Darth Vader. Or Darth Wyckoff, as his friend Sammy dubbed him.

Okay, this is better:



















And here's Little Brother, also delighted with his costume (thank God!):



















Notice that he's a frog carrying a spider trick-or-treat bag....looks like pretty good coordination on my part, huh? Totally accidental, I'm sad to say.




















And here we are with the Tarkingtons, right before we unleashed the boys on the neighborhood for some heavy duty trick-or-treating. Thanks to Diane for getting the group shot!




















A typical shot of William and Sammy going for candy while Andrew tries to keep up:


















I should mention that Andrew had a ball. I had worried initially that he'd be a little overwhelmed with all the activity and people in costumes. Nope. He delighted in toddling along behind the older boys, climbing stairs and trying to get into people's houses. I finally convinced him to start saying "trick or treat," which came out "teeek tee!" And of course, he would also say "tock too" when someone put something in his spider bucket. He also enjoyed seeing all the dogs that were out. And then he discovered that people were putting things in his spider bucket and he could--gasp--take them out!

See, here? He sees the M&Ms in Diane's hand, and he wants to investigate:



















Everyone wants to be in a picture with the frog!






































All in all, Halloween turned out very nicely. There were a few touch-and-go moments, like when William was dying to go out, but David wasn't home yet. And then there was the moment when I thought the zipper was broken on Andrew's costume, and it was already 6:15 p.m. and there was no time to put anything else on him, not that we had another costume for him anyway. I breathed a huge sigh of relief when I figured out how to get the zipper back on track. Thank goodness.

A visit from the Tooth Fairy

We knew it would happen eventually. William lost his very first tooth yesterday. It's been wiggly-wobbly for days and days now, and every time he bit into something crunchy, I braced myself. Of course, I never thought an egg roll would be the culprit but you just never know, right?















Unfortunately, he didn't wind up with a little nubbin of tooth to show for his big milestone. We think he must have swallowed the tooth while he was eating his lunch. Poor thing, he burst into big sobs when he realized that his tooth was gone but GONE.

"Now I won't get a dollar from the Tooth Fairy," he managed to get out. Then he wailed, the blood welling up in the hole in his lower gum and the tears welling up in his eyes.

I knew that's why he was crying even before he said it.

"It's okay, sweetie," I soothed him. "The Tooth Fairy knows you've been so close to losing that tooth for a long time. I know she'll still bring you a dollar. She'll understand."

Finally, the tears subsided. He agreed to have the Obligatory First Lost Tooth Photo Session on the front porch....



















And we decided to cover all the bases, just in case. William dictated a letter to me yesterday afternoon, then painstakingly copied it in his own handwriting onto a piece of red construction paper. The letter read as follows:

"Dear Tooth Fairy, I lost my tooth, but I lost my tooth after it came out. I hope that I will get a dollar from you. Bye, William."

The Tooth Fairy, for what it's worth, immediately turned to Facebook for guidance. "What's the going rate for a first tooth?" I....er, she posted. The general consensus seemed to be $5--five whole dollars!!!--for the first tooth and a dollar for each subsequent tooth, preferably in those cool gold dollar coins that no one actually uses as real currency except for Tooth Fairy Transactions.

I...I mean, the Tooth Fairy wrote a very nice note to William, congratulating him on the loss of his first baby tooth and explaining that she was leaving a little extra for him this time, as it was his first tooth. The Tooth Fairy also noted, very specifically, that she would not be able to leave such a large sum the next time, but she felt that this occasion warranted the five bucks. The Tooth Fairy did not want to set any dangerous precedents, you see.

(Side note: I'm still marveling over the five dollars. I think I got 50 cents for my first tooth, back in the dark ages. By the time I lost my last few teeth, I might have gotten a dollar. I don't know why I'm acting surprised, honestly. College now costs twice as much as it did when I went there, and that wasn't even that long ago.)

The Tooth Fairy did refrain from mentioning in her letter that she had been flying up Holly Trace Way in her pink bathrobe when she realized that William had lost a tooth. You see, the Tooth Fairy who visited me when I was a little girl always seemed to wear a pink bathrobe when she was flying up my street late at night, just like my mom wore a pink bathrobe. She also had handwriting that was remarkably similar to my mother's handwriting. And she also used my mom's notepaper for her notes. William's Tooth Fairy nearly used Jennifer's monogrammed stationery for her note until she realized what a boneheaded move that would have been and dug around for a nice box of plain blue notecards instead.

The Tooth Fairy also squirreled away the red construction paper letter. That's going in the VIP box (Very Important Paperwork).

By the way, William's first baby tooth to go was not, as I was wondering, the first tooth that William ever got. I had to look it up to be sure. The tooth immediately next to it was his first tooth, as you can see here:















I admit to a few moments where I got dangerously sniffly, in the oh-my-baby-is-growing-up way. Luckily, I am still able to go over and nuzzle on Andrew when I need that kind of quick hit. Andrew, God love him, has all four molars now...but he can't seem to grow any other front teeth on the bottom except for those first two. Oh well. It doesn't seem to be holding him back from eating.

I must add an item to my To Do list: stop by the bank and ask about the Tooth Fairy coins.

Andrew's first day of "school"

Andrew started school last week!



Okay, let's revisit that. Andrew started "school" last week. He will be spending two days per week in the older one-year-old class at our church's preschool, William's alma mater.

However, he has teachers, a backpack and a lunchbox..



There's a class directory, plans for a Christmas party and an upcoming Back to School night. So, if you ask me, that's school.

And there's even a classroom pet: Bugsy the Guinea Pig:















Andrew adores Bugsy. He's a dog person at heart, but he has an affinity for most furry animals.

I have to admit that I've been so consumed with worry over William's new school and all the, ahem, issues I've had that I didn't really spend much time thinking about Andrew starting school. Or "school." I did give in to the urge to get all his stuff embroidered with his name, of course.

But then, all of a sudden, it was Andrew's first day in his new classroom. His first classroom! Luckily, it's also the room that he often visits on Sundays when we go to church. That helped. He was familiar with the room, which was reassuring to both of us.

I was all prepared for him to cling tightly to me and bury his face in my knees, as he so often does. He's never been very good at transitions, and usually I have to peel him off my body so I can leave.

Well! Andrew was full of surprises. I put him down in his classroom, as I prepared to sign the class sign-in sheet. He stood there for about three seconds, waffling as to what he should do, and then I swear, he almost shrugged and just toddled off to check out the toys.

Just like on William's first day of school last month, I braced myself for some tears--from one of us, at least--and they never came. So I shrugged and said goodbye and left the classroom. Andrew's classroom has a two-way mirror on one wall, so I stepped into the darkened office adjacent to his classroom and peered at him through the mirror. But he didn't miss a beat after I left. He just continued to toddle around and investigate everything. Even the wailing from the little girl who arrived after him didn't seem to faze him. I breathed a sigh of relief and ventured out.

I guess if I'd had more time and energy to worry about him, I would have worried more about him. But I didn't, and as it turns out, I didn't need to, after all. Well, good. One less thing for me to feel guilty about!

New stuff to worry about

When William was a baby, there were so many times that I wished that he would just get older already--because, I imagined, surely things would get easier as he got older.

Well. William did get older. Some things did get easier, too. Now that he's five years old, I pretty much only have to do his laundry and cook his dinner and remind him to please grab his backpack/lunchbox/hat/jacket. He dresses himself, feeds himself, makes his own bed, goes to the bathroom himself, gets himself in and out of the car and booster seat, brushes his own teeth, and puts his own dishes in the dishwasher. Not all at the same time, of course.

However, I now face a whole new set of challenges as his parent. Now I am responsible for helping him learn how to read. I may not have to wipe his bottom, but I do have to make him sit down with a book and help him sound out words, and holy geez, let me tell you exactly which one is exponentially harder and takes longer.

To complicate that situation, William actually can read a fair number of words. But he insists that he caaaaaaan't, and then he flops around in a histrionic fashion and bemoans how he caaaaaan't, he caaaaaan't, he caaaaaan't. And then I have to sit on top of him, and, OH THE DRAMA. It does not seem to do much good to remind him that 1) the Great Pyramids weren't built in a day (he's currently fascinated by ancient Egypt, so we're going with that reference here instead of Rome), and 2) he had to learn to ride a tricycle before he could ride a bike. He seems to think that if he can't read, say, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, he's not really reading.

Plus, the surrounding issues are more complicated now. Everything involving his education is now much more complex. Once upon a time, I just dropped him off at preschool with a lunchbox and a nap mat, and that was that. Now, I have worry about whether his teacher got the note about him taking the school bus home from school. And then I have to worry about what happens if I accidentally miss the bus and no one is there to meet him at the bus stop. I find myself worrying about the fact that no one's around to intervene at lunchtime or recess if someone starts to get him all riled up and agitated. I fret about whether he's going to get enough individual attention to encourage him to, yes, work harder at reading. I fret that he adores math but what if his teacher doesn't have enough time to work with him and nurture that affinity? I fret that he's the only Encore kid in his class, and what if the other kids make fun of him for being the smart kid? (Because let's face it, the smart kid always gets picked on at some point for being smart, not that I have any residual leftover post-traumatic stress syndrome about that. Nope, not me.) Argh.

It almost makes raising Andrew seem easy. Almost. Andrew has a mind of his own, too, and he has very definite Opinions now. But luckily, most of that seems pretty straightforward in comparison. Andrew's a little daredevil, it's true, but he can mostly be contained with doorknob safety handles, car seat straps, safety gates, and keeping a sharp eye on him at all times when he's not inside. Mostly contained.

Do not tell me that it continues to get harder, please. I'm going to stick my head in the sand for awhile and pretend that this is as hard as it ever gets. Please leave me to my delusions. Thanks.

The Magic Toy

Do you have a Magic Toy at your house?

What's a Magic Toy? It's a toy that is absolutely guaranteed to enthrall your children. Every time. No exceptions (or very, very few). They never get tired of it. It's...magic.

For William, it was the Batcave. He received the Batcave for Christmas from Santa in 2009. It became our go-to toy. He always was happy to play with it. It went on all our trips with us. Whenever friends came over to visit, he immediately brought them over to show off the Batcave. And the Magic was transferable, amazingly enough. Two-year-old boys loved it. Six-year-old girls loved it. They all loved it.

It no longer is quite that all-encompassing anymore, but you know, he still really loves to play with it. It might not be a Magic Toy, per se, but it was a Magic Toy for a really long time, and it's still a Pretty-Close-to-Magic Toy even now. Andrew discovered it when he started crawling, and he often sits over there by the Batcave and tinkers with it for quite a long time. Oh yes, the Batcave still has some of that old magic.

However.

The Batcave may have a little competition now.



Like many other toddlers, Andrew has discovered Sesame Street. He doesn't watch the television show yet, but he has discovered a deep affinity for Elmo and Cookie Monster and the rest of the gang.

One morning, I discovered a little Sesame Street village toy in Target and showed it to Andrew, only to have him seize the village like his life depended on it. I pried it out of his hands, only to have him begin loudly sobbing. The next time we went to Target, I decided, "Ah, what the heck" and bought it for him. The way I see it is that almost all of his toys are hand-me-downs. What will it hurt for him to get something new every so often?

Plus, the village came with Elmo and Cookie Monster, his faves!



I picked up a package with Ernie and Bert, too, because, okay, yes, Ernie is my lifelong favorite, and there cannot be a Sesame Street without Bert and Ernie. At least not at my house.

We got home, and I wrestled the toy out of its packaging. I set it on the floor. Andrew was, yes, entranced. He settled down to play. And play. And play. And now, whenever we come home from someplace, he immediately runs off to check on his Sesame Street toy. Eventually, he always comes toddling back over to me, with Cookie Monster and Elmo in hand (see picture above), saying happily, "El-bah! El-bah!" (His pronunciation for "Elmo.") Then he scampers back to his toy, where he plays, plays and plays some more.

William is not immune to its charm either, despite his sophisticated five-year-old self. Nothing is better than when he sits down next to Andrew and plays with the village with him. In fact, William has begun lobbying for me to buy the Sesame Street fire truck to go with the village. "It comes with Grover," he told me, adding quite reasonably, "We really need Grover."

William has also tried to cajole me into buying a set of figures that comes with both Cookie Monster and Telly. "But we already have a Cookie Monster," I pointed out.

"Yes, but we don't have Telly," he argued. "We need Telly. And it wouldn't hurt to have a back-up Cookie Monster, just in case."

My child, the future lawyer. Still, would it really be a bad thing to have a back-up Cookie Monster? I mean, given how much Andrew adores him, and all, and it's a good thing to be prepared for emergencies, right? A Cookie Monster emergency could happen. It could.

Hmmm. Perhaps the Sesame Street village has begun to pull me under its magic spell, too...