Another Easter in the Basket

"Mommy!  I got a little Chloe!"

That was the first thing Clara said this morning and Fans, it's true: the Easter Bunny was here, and he brought Clara a little Chloe.  Little Chloe goes by Little Chloe; together with Chloe, they are the Chloes.  The Easter Bunny left two Easter baskets on the dining room table in which they bambini found bathing suits and swim goggles, some Cars cars (Ramone and Mater) and color-your-own puzzles and stickers, some markers and glue sticks, Little Chloe, and, for Joe, a helicopter-fire-truck-some-other-vehicle-too Lego set.  He also left eggs filled with chocolate  all over the place.  That Easter Bunny.  He's some bunny.

We're not sure what time the bambini got up, but we can report that they were both pretty tired at Easter mass.  As Joe said at lunch, "All the singing made me exhausted."  (He's recently learned the word exhausted and has been trying it out.)  Earlier, on the way home from mass, he'd commented that he was "over bored" of all those songs.  Over bored is, of course, not a word, which, when pointed out, prompted Joe to say, "Let's think of words that rhyme with fish!  Dish!"  He quickly moved into words that rhyme, but are not words, which kicked off a round of Clara chirping out a litany of words that are words, which is how she contributes to the rhyming game: "Tree's a word.  Houses is a word."  

As it turns out, Joe wasn't the only one who was exhausted by all that singing.  After Clara had done Julie's hair "fancy," the Birds fell asleep on the couch.  Julie, at least, woke up when Joe screamed "IT'S TIME FOR LUNCH!" when it was time for lunch, and after a while, she managed to rouse Clara Jane.  That cat nap was, of course, Clara's nap.  The Easter miracle was the resurrection, so we suppose it's fitting.

The Chloes, and the Birds.

Of Rain and Rain Boots (Or Galoshes)

For the past two days, cloudy mornings have given way to sunny days that are fighting to be warm.  Yesterday morning, there was an honest to God thunderstorm, with lightening and everything.  After Ted went down, the bambini made their way up.  Julie had asked Ted to send them up so they could listen to the rain on the roof, too.  As Longtime Readers know, laying on the big bed, listening to the rain on the roof, was how Julie and Clara spent many a morning or afternoon of Clara's first weeks.

Prior to those days, it is fair to say that Julie had a rather poor opinion of rain generally, though she would admit to liking a summer storm and singin' Singin' In the Rain.  She equated rain with mud; and damp, chill--downright cold!--days; umbrellas that don't seem to work unless one is walking though a sprinkle and then, who needs an umbrella?  No matter what, one's hair is bound to look a mess.  Rain, rain go away indeed.

Since the days and weeks following Birdie's arrival, however, she has come to appreciate the rain and all the other things it might mean: a cleansing, a renewal, and besides these more weighty things: rain boots (although it's more fun to say galoshes in her opinion).  In fact, Julie has just finished ordering Joe yellow galoshes with fire trucks on them; Clara, pink galoshes with strawberries on them; and herself, deep red galoshes.  (Ted doesn't seem like a galoshes kinda guy.  He seems like a I've-got-snow-boots-and-I'll-bet-they'll-work-in-the-rain-too kinda guy.)

So we will soon be set for some proper puddle walks and wishing for rain.

Adventures in a Dairy Land Galaxy

They've been celebrating reading at the KinderCare this month by asking families to complete weekly reading logs for prizes.  Julie has fond, fond memories of "Book It!" a program in which one recorded the books one read in exchange for pizza at Pizza Hut.  At the time, Julie thought Pizza Hut pizza tasted good and didn't really register that the name of the "restaurant" contained the word "hut," which means it probably has to work a little harder than other restaurants.  Still, it will probably not surprise many of y'all to know that she was in "Book It!" mainly for the thrill of reading and cataloging.  (At the same time, she loathed the reading program in which you read stories on cards that were colored, each color corresponding to a level.  Those cards were the worst.)

We Raleigh Housers are readers so we've been all about these reading logs even though, as you know, Fans, we've ended up eating dinner at Qdoba because of them.  Another week's completed reading logs meant that tonight, we dined at Dairy Queen.  The bambini wanted chocolate ice cream cones for dessert.  Ted tried to muddle this choice with excessive confirmation, but it didn't work.  He was pretty stressed out watching the two of them try to tame the cones.

Now, one would think the proper way to eat an ice cream cone would be obvious, but as it turns out, not so much.  Things went more smoothly with some helpful hints doled out along the way--also once the paper at the bottom of the cones was removed (MUCH time was spent asking after its removal).  Of course,  once they'd been doled out, Joe repeated them like he was God come down from on high.

In fact, when Julie repeated one of the key ice cream cone eating directives (eat it from top to bottom), Joe looked at her and said, "I already know that."

Julie commented to Ted, "And the Jedi becomes the master."

And Joe said, "I know what a Jedi is."

May the force be with us.

Movin' On Up

We have also been meaning to report that Clara's move from the "Twos" room where she has been since she was about 18 months old to the Pre-C room is imminent.  She will begin the transition next week.  Our Longtime Readers may recall that the pre-school gauntlet at our KinderCare proceeds illogically thusly: Pre-C, to Pre-A, to Pre-B.  Current enrollment does not actually support having Pre
-A open, so the order is Pre-C to Pre-B.  Longtime Readers may also recall that one's child passes through the Pre-C room, in which the focus is potty training, even if one's child is potty trained.  Longtime Readers may also recall that when Joe moved to Pre-C, the room was manned by one teacher and assorted "floats" and given that the focus was potty training, it seemed that if it didn't happen to be your child's 10 minutes in the bathroom, he or she was running about like a banshee.

We might harbor some bad memories of the pre-school room gauntlet and, in particular, the preschool-C room.

But, it is now staffed by two teachers, the lead of which, Ms. Jenny, has been there for a while now, and seems to be good people.  To be fair, she's been set up for success better than her predecessor who was trying to manage potty training for multiple children as well as execute curriculum such that parents like us weren't making appointments with management to inquire what exactly our children were doing since the daily doings board, for example, hadn't been updated in days?

So we have high hopes that all will be well.  Clara of course, has been using the potty with aplomb for months and months now.  She has, also, for two weekends in a row now, on both Saturday and Sunday, woken up after her nap dry--!!!!!  (She has been doing this at school practically since she first started using the potty, but her naps at home are longer and so she would often have an accident.)  Clara is excited to make the move because she will be reunited with her pals, Daphne and Silvia.  AND, there is this: Joe's room will be her drop-off and pick-up room--!!!!!  The dynamic duo will begin and end their school days together--until the fall.  (Until the fall--!!!!!)

Bedtime Piggyback Express

We have been meaning to report that lately, Joe and Clara have been taking piggyback rides into bed.  They both have to be reminded to hang on, but Clara also has to be reminded not to inadvertently choke her mother.  Clara's always been terribly good at hugs and squeezes and snuggles.  Her natural propensity is to hang on tight--a lovely, lovely thing to be sure.  It's just that right now, the length of her arms is such that when she clasps them around Julie's neck, and catches her hands up, the knot of her hands rests right against Julie's larynx.  So we're working on the subtleties.

Rabbit

Clara has had a small patch of dry skin by the right corner of mouth for weeks a weeks now.  She had impetigo nearby, but on subsequent visits to the pediatrician's, we've been assured that it is not impetigo still.  The treatment is a layer of cortisone followed by a layer of Aquaphor, though by this point, we suspect the dry skin will not be vanquished until winter's dry air is also vanquished.  In the meantime, we've been laying the cortisone and the Aquaphor as instructed.  Early on in this routine, Julie asked Clara to tilt her chin up so that Julie would have a better angle for application.   That was when she heard Birdie muttering about a rabbit.  (Clara tips her chin way up.  No half way with this one!  So she really was muttering.  It was probably hard to get her voice out with decent volume given how far back her head was.)

You know how most families have their own, perhaps small, lexicons and troves of shared memories?  Things that only that small tribe knows?  We think we may have written that this delightful aspect of families here before.

One of Clara's favorite books is Madeline.  Clara has always liked a book with drawn illustrations--from the get-go, in a way that Joe didn't anyway.  Julie has always wondered if Clara's affection for the book is due in part to its drawings.  It also has a bold yellow spine with Madeline down it just as bold (we have the oversized board book edition).  In any case, Julie has read Madeline to Clara many times. So that is why she almost instantly realized that Clara actually wasn't muttering about rabbits, but rather reciting the line from Madeline about Madeline's time in the hospital following her appendectomy, "And a crack on the ceiling had the habit of sometimes looking like a rabbit."

And that's all there is.  There isn't any more.

You can see both the patch of skin--getting there though so its faint!--and the pose in this picture.  This is how Julie and Joe found Ted and Clara when they got back from Owl Moon and the park last Saturday.  As a sidebar, we would note that it is difficult to find Princess Leia things.  WHY?????  That is what we call a missed opportunity, Toy Manufacturers.

Of Owl Moon, and Friends

On Saturday afternoon, Julie and Joe met Sara, Graham, and Connor at the children's theater one town over in Hopkins for the matinee performance of Owl Moon.  Long time Fans may recall that about a year ago, Julie took Joe to the same theater to see Llama, Llama Red Pajama.  Then, they got all dolled up to go, and apparently, Joe remembered that because as Julie came down the stairs--in jeans (fancy jeans, but jeans nevertheless)--she ran into Ted coming out of the bambini's room with khakis, an undershirt, and a button down for Joe.  Fans, you have to love this little dude.

This production of Owl Moon was a ballet which you might be doesn't sound like a promising outing for three boys ranging in age from almost three and five and their mothers, but you'd be wrong, Fans!  For starters, this is a rather successful children's theater which, among other things, means they've got the marriage between recommended ages and run times down flat.  This was a 45 minute show with no intermission, and ballet. . .Well, you can see, can't you, how to the pre-school and pre-K set it looks a lot like really cool running and jumping?

Julie and Sara had snagged some boosters, but all the boys ended up in their respective mothers' laps.  You'd think this sounds like an uncomfortable way to spend 45 minutes, but you'd be wrong again, Fans.  Joe took Julie's arms and wrapped them around him just so.  Toward the end, he reached up, looped his arm around her neck, and pulled her face down so that her cheek rested against his.  Julie will at least admit that it was an awkward angle, but she will also say that she'd have stayed like that happily for a long, long time.  It was really just a sign that he was feeling sleepy.  He eventually curled himself up and leaned back against Julie and tried to pull her coat, and then his, around him like a blanket.  He kept one eye on the stage though.  At the very, very, very end, Joe asked Julie if they could go, and when she said no, he asked when the end was going to be.  Fortunately, the owl had been spotted so the end was less than five minutes away at that point, which meant treats at Dairy Queen were also not far off.

Sara and Julie walked with the boys (who ran) six blocks or so to a Dairy Queen and then, because it seemed the only fitting thing to do after going to Dairy Queen in March, in Minnesota, when there's still a lot of snow on he ground, they took the boys to the park.  The three of them tore around while Julie and Sara sat on a bench and talked and watched them.

You'd think it would have been cold.  But it wasn't.  It was so warm.

Sweet Mess

It's been a little tough to be Birdie of late.  It is also tough to be a Birdie's parent of late.

Of late, one is apt to have exchanges with her like this:
Parent: "Birds, it's time to get our coats on.  Can you please put your coat on?"
Birdie: "I don't wanna do it!  I want you to do it!"
Parent: "Well, if you ask appropriately, it might happen."
Birdie: ""Please you put my coat on please?"
Parent: "Sure."
Birdie [as soon as the slightest movement is made to assist her in putting on her coat]: "NO I WANNA DO IT!"

This, in fact, was the exchange Ted had with Birdie in Qdoba Tuesday evening, the evening, you will recall, Dear Readers, of the kindergarten round up when we were, therefore, trying to get home in order to have Clara bathed and in her pajamas before the sitter arrived.  Now, to be fair, is anyone in a good mood at Qdoba?  We're in Qdoba only when the bambini have received a coupon for a free kid's meal with the purchase of an adult's meal for being Read-y McGees and maybe this is why every time we are in there and it's nearly empty, we wonder how they have stayed in business.  (We speculate that the St. Louis Park location has a booming lunch business.)

Clara got her coat on but then the same routine started to unfold with respect to the hat and the mittens.

Whether it was because we were at Qdoba, or Julie had the sore throat that was the harbinger of the cold that settled in that night, or we didn't really have time to send the how-the-hat-and-mittens-were-going-to-get-on bill to committee, Julie told Clara that she was going to count to five and if she wasn't making progress on the hat and the mittens, then Julie was going to pick her up and haul her out to the car without them.

Having drawn the line, for better or worse, Julie couldn't back down.  Clara isn't one to back down either though.  She may have thrown her mittens on the floor all petulant starlet like?

In any case, five was reached, Clara's hat and mittens were on the floor, and so she departed the restaurant in a bawling blaze of glory and was unceremoniously deposited into the car and strapped in to her seat, where she proceed to screech her indignation the entire way home.  You can hear a portion of her tantrum here.  Warning: it starts out on a shrill note, so you might want to turn the volume down--or up, if you want a sort of on the scene feel!

Here's what she says:
"It's too tight."
"I wanna go in the blue car."
"I wanna get out."
"I wanna get out of the Bronzie car."
"I wanna walk."  (With this last, she means walk out of the restaurant to the car, not walk home.)

She's sort of a mess, Brigade.  Is she getting molars?  Was she still feeling run down from the tummy bug?  And the strep throat?  And the cold?  Is she just tow-almost-three?  All of these things?  Whatever the reason, she's a bit of a mess lately.  But--but--she's such a sweet mess.

Tonight, she was up to her usual antics at bedtime, which resulted in the removal of her friends from her bed.  And before you go getting all weepy, Brigade, we hasten to add that she was nonplussed by this.  If we've got her number, she's got ours.

Really, she does.  Because when Julie went in there to do her routine, nightly "I love you Joseph Trump Ekkers" and "I love you Clara Jane Ekkers" benedictions, she found Clara awake, and as Julie leaned over Clara, Birdie reached up and pulled Julie down to her hard.  When Julie started to pull away, Clara pulled her back down hard.  You kinda can't help but fall for her, hard.

Quid Poop Quo

Fans, it used to be that we would post most nights.  Now, the week often ends with us considering a pile of scraps of paper that we've snatched up because it was at hand--the back of an envelope, a Post-it, a daily doings sheet--on to which we've scribbled something one of the bambini has said, or a snippet of a larger conversation.  This Sunday, we bring you news from the back of an envelope, of something that happened last Saturday evening.

The bambini were getting ready to bathe which means they were brushing their teeth and using the potty, all while naked, of course.  So it happened that Joe suddenly appeared in the doorway between the hallway and the living room, sobbing, to say, "Clara did something rude to me.  She flushed my poopie down the toilet when I wanted to do it."

There are bigger bummers in life, but not really when you're almost five.  Really, your sister should read your mind and know that you wanted to flush your own poopie down the toilet because she would feel the exact same way if she stopped to consider it.

Peace was restored when a deal was brokered in which Clara permitted Joe to flush her poopie down the toilet.  (Thank God she had to go poopie.)

Our First Kindergarten Roundup

Tonight, Julie, Ted, and Joe went to what's known as Kindergarten Roundup.  It's different from the fall's Kindergarten Open House in that one registers one's child for kindergarten at the Roundup.  Or, at least, one tries.  Julie was admonished that Joe would not be registered for kindergarten until his immunization record was received, despite the fact that he will not receive all of the requisite immunizations until he turns five in July.  Apparently one turns them in incomplete and then again, once completed.  Similarly, one turns in the bus transportation form incomplete as necessary.  It is necessary if, at the Roundup, one enters one's child's name into the lottery for full-day kindergarten and one thus has, of course, no idea whether one will need bus service and if so, when, and between the school and where.

By now, Fans, you have realized that the people being rounded up are the parents of the class of 2026.

While the parents listened to a presentation delivered by the principal in the gym, the members of the class of 2026 were taken to one of the four kindergarten rooms by a kindergarten teacher, depending on what color the string was holding the card with their name on it around their neck.  Joe was in the purple room. Joe wrote his own name on his card.  (This would be the first time Julie chocked back tears.  Clearly, it's going to be a wet road to 2026.)  Joe went off with the purple room's teacher, swept along in the tide; one second he was holding Julie's hand and then he wasn't. (FANS!  More holding back of tears.)  As it happened, Joe's friend from Pre-K, Eric, was also in the purple room.  Joe had a great time visiting the kindergarten room. He reported that they sang a song and colored a picture.

Oh, Fans. . .There we sat in the gym.  It had an orange stripe around it about a third of the way down.  The muscle group of he week was the abdominals.  Empowering sayings abounded.  So many that we can't remember any of them anymore.  But we learned other things:
1.  If you want a specific teacher, or don't want a specific teacher, tell Principal Johnson in May when you fill out your child's profile at his or her kindergarten assessment.  Don't be the parent tells him in August that you want your child moved to a different room.  They will talk about you behind your back as a problem parent.
2. Get ready to volunteer!  You might be ostracized if you do not volunteer.  You can sign up tonight to start getting e-mails!  PARK PRIDE!  (That's St. Louis Park Pride, Fans.)
3.  Kindergarten apparently involves a lot of glue.  The supplies list included 12 glue sticks--!!!!!
4.  Julie at least will have to take the first day of kindergarten off from work.  She was teary-eyed over the school supplies list, too, and at least two other times as well.  None of this bodes well for the first day of kindergarten.  She will need to practice being brave so that she does not embarrass Joe (or Ted or Clara for that matter).
5.  It's going to be 2026 before we know it.

Chuck E Cheese's

Title says enough, right fans?  The occasion was Joe's friend Owen's birthday.  Ted was the handler for this adventure, and though it was clear Owen's parents were well prepared for parents to drop their children off, Ted stayed - partly for Joe's benefit and partly for his own.  After clinging to each other for a little while as the sounds, sights, and smells overwhelmed them both, Joe got into the spirit and checked out the big cheese himself (or at least his animatronic self).  From there the boys were let loose into the arcade.  Joe kept with Ted (thankfully) and they played whatever games Joe thought looked interesting.   Ted was lobbying for Skee Ball, but Joe only lasted one round.  Joe seemed more interested in the car racing games where you sit in the seat, and if there were pedals on the floor Joe would sit on Ted's lap.  It should be noted that the Raleigh House is anti-gun (pretend, real, and imaginary) to the point that when Joe was making his Christmas list he told us that "we don't get toys with guns."  But in an arcade gun play is hard to avoid, which is how Ted found himself trying to instruct Joe on how to pump the shotgun to reload so he could shoot the bear on the screen.  This is the society we live in.  The good news is that Joe quickly lost interest in said shotgun and wandered off.  The bad news is Ted's frugal nature kicked in and knowing he had 2 more "lives" left on that token, pumped the shotgun and got him some bears.  After some pizza, cake and a rousing rendition of "Happy Birthday" sung by Chuck E Cheese and his handlers for the four birthday parties (all at once...efficiency is the name of the game) it was about time to go.  Joe's ticket haul was 19.  That gets you nothing at the tchotke store - you need 75 just to get a little eraser.  So Joe donated his tickets to the birthday boy, and we hope his household has one more eraser in it tonight.

Joe and Austin trying to figure out the animatronic Chuck E Cheese.  By the end of the party, about 12 of the kids were standing up on the ledge grabbing his nose.

Charming, no?

Raleigh House Spa Grand Reopening!

Fans!  We have been meaning to report that Ted has finished the Raleigh House spa renovations!  It reopened for business over the weekend!

Bathing in water from the Land of the Sky Blue Waters!  Minerals spring water has nothing on us.

Before signs of real use had been reintroduced.

The other side.  (We know.  It's so vast it couldn't be captured in one frame.)

An Actual Dinner Table Conversation

Clara [whining]: Berenice licked my pants. . .

Ted [emphatically ignoring whining; brightly!]: What?  Oh!  Your pants?  Berenice licked your pants?! They must taste good.  Do they taste good?

Clara [whining]: Nooo. . .They're clothes.

Scene.

Of Things Pink

This evening found Julie and Ted engaged in a joint medical consultation to determine whether Clara might have have pink eye.  We found the patient standing in the middle of her room in her pink hooded towel twirling in a slow circle as she reached one arm behind her to point to her bottom while she murmured, "My butt, my butt, my butt. . ."  Of course, the last time a medical examination was required, the area of examination was her lady parts, all of which currently fall under the umbrella of bottom to Clara.

Birdie took the news that her eye would be examined instead in stride.  She flatly stated, "I have pink eye."  The consensus was no, she does not have pink eye, though she does seem to have a touch of congestion which is making her eyes watery and her nose drippy.  So no pink eye, but a pink towel!  Or so she was told.

Shortly after this exchange, Julie asked Clara to find Pink Dog and bring him to Clara's bed.  Joe said, "Her!  Pink Dog is a girl!"   Julie asked how he knew that and wondered aloud if it was because Pink Dog is--you've guessed it, Fans--pink.  Joe said yes, but added that Pink Dog had long ears as well--ponies.  He was nice about it, but it was clear that Pink Dog's gender was completely obvious.

Of Cannonballs and Gravity

After dinner, Ted told the bambini they could play for a bit before taking a bath.  Naturally, the bambini decided to dismantle the sofa and chair, making the cushions a pool into which to do cannonballs from the sofa and chair diving boards.  (They have recently learned what cannonballs are from a library book.)  Here they are.  Joe is very much relishing his older brother responsibilities, the additional maturity bestowed upon him by two years being most on display at 1:11 and 1:40.  (Can you handle it, Fans?)  Shortly after this video was cut, Clara remarked to Joe, "Gravity!"  Joe replied, "What?  Oh!  Yes!  You're doing gravity."  He then turned to Julie and said, "Mommy, I learned gravity holds you back down to the Earth."  True.  But he's got his wings out all the same.

Under Under Wear

Also on Tuesday, upon disrobing for bath, Joe announced what he'd discovered earlier in the day: he was wearing two pairs of underwear.  (He thought this circumstance was hilarious.)  The bambini both dress themselves in the mornings now.  Clara, of course, needs some assistance, but it's best to leave her to her own devices and either wait for her to approach and ask for help with what she needs, or make a judgement about whether to offer it later upon seeing a shirt on backwards or some such.  Joe mostly manages fine except for the fact that he is often, apparently, lost in thought and so might forget that, say, he was already wearing underwear.  It was really only a matter of time before this happened.

Snow, All Over This Country

Denizens in the Snow-Covered Country

And then it was Tuesday.  Everyone was back in school just in time for the wind-up of a big snowfall.  As Joe approached the front door he said, "There's snow all over this country!"

Theories of Relativity

So there we were, Monday evening, eating dinner, when Joe asked apropos of absolutely nothing: "When do people die?"  One tries to prepare for such moments, of course, but in the moment, the script you read in the parenting book, or on the handout you got at the pediatrician's office, the script that was short and  straightforward and honest, tends to be forgotten.  With any luck, you are left with remembering to be short, straightforward, and honest.

Julie tried first.  (She forgot to buy herself some time by saying something like, "That's a good question."  See the script flying out the window?  There is goes!  Whee!)  She said something like people usually die when they are really, really, really old.  If you were there, you could almost hear her and Ted, collectively, thinking, "Don't say people die when they get sick!  Or at least remember to say sometimes people die when they get sick.  Like Raleigh!  He got sick and there wasn't any medicine to make him better."  Ted got there first: "Sometimes when people get ill [Ill!  That's the ticket!] they might die if there's no medicine to make them better."

Joe was still back on when they are really, really, really old answer and had a follow-up: "Like Grandpa Charles?  When he gets lots more years old?"  Julie's heart was in her throat, but she managed to say, "Yes, when he's lots more years old.  Lots."

And that was that.  This reporter can't remember where the conversation careened after that.

These are the things that the Wee Ones say that make the Not So Wee Ones feel terribly not so wee, right?  That make the Not So Wee Ones feel their mortality that much more keenly?  But although this reporter is, relative to Joe and Clara, at least older, she does not feel old.

She feels the accumulated years: is it possible that she will be the same age this year as Grandpa Charles was when she was born?  That she will have been graduated from college almost 15 years?  From high school almost 20?  That she and Ted will have been married eight years?  And have lived in Minnesota that long?  That she has, she supposes, by now a career, not just a job?  That Joe will begin kindergarten this fall?  That Clara's hair is long enough to be put up in barrettes?

Julie read a book once that contained the line, "Life gathers."  Julie feels hers doing that, but still she doesn't feel old, and she doesn't think of Grandpa Charles as old, just older.

And now she realizes that in answering Joe's question, she answered only with her head.  She forgot to answer with her heart, too, and say that she believes, sometimes people don't ever die because they have gathered in our hearts, where they will stay always.

Maybe this is the heart's way of guarding against one of life's stiffest blows.  Nevertheless, Julie believe it is true.  It is as true as the fact that later in the week, when Julie asked Clara who was in Clara's heart, Clara answered, "Chloe, and Pink Dog, and Fluffy, and Berenice, and Daddy, and Mommy, and Joe."

Chloe took top billing, Brigade.  Always in her heart.

Birdie Calls In Sick

A week ago tomorrow.  Approximately 11:45pm.  One Birdie McGee woke up screaming like her arm had been torn off.  Don't fret, Brigade: she's still got both arms.  She'd just thrown up while sleeping face down.  You can feel a Baby Bird, right?  Waking up to discover you are laying in a pool of vomit?  Bleech-a-palooza.  It happened again about 15 minutes later, and so although there was no fever, Baby Bird stayed home Monday.  Ted stayed home all day, but worked in the afternoon once Julie came home from work midday.  Birdie woke up fever-free and didn't ever loose her cookies, but she napped for nearly four hours so we think the day at home did her good if for no other reason than she could nap in the peace and quiet of the Raleigh House Spa.

Monday, upon waking.  Bed head, naturally and gorgeously highlighted.

Fashionista fashion when the fashionista calls in sick.

The Force Is Strong With This One

Joe is a big, still little guy.  Nearly every day contains a moment when one can see the adolescent he will soon be, and the infant and toddler he was not so very long ago.  That is, nearly every day contains a moment when your heart swells up so big it feels like it will burst, and then it does.

Such as the case this past Friday.  Fridays are show 'n' share days at the KinderCare.  Julie tries to ensure that the items making the journey for showing and sharing have been selected and labelled before she departs the house to make it a little easier for Ted.  This past Friday, Clara said she was taking Chloe and Joe, the Millennium Falcon.  Chloe wasn't labeled, but there's really no possibility of Chloe being snatched or misplaced.  Have you heard Birdie shriek, Brigade?  Girl can get her shriek on.  Joe said the Falcon was still labelled from the last time it made the jump to light speed and KinderCare.  Now, admittedly, Julie had the fleeting thought, "Maybe I should tack down with guys are going. . ."  But only two guys have ever gone and he was messing around with all the Star Wars stuff anyway, so she dismissed the thought as soon as it entered her mind with the equally fleeting thought, "He'll figure out the two guys that will go. . ."

She was sitting at her desk at 7:47am when she got this text from Ted: "Finally leaving kc.  Gd star wars guys."  Switching over to Voxer, Ted relayed that he was finishing shower when he heard all hell breaking loose outside the bathroom, but he couldn't hear why over the water.  Once he was out, he heard Joe crying and wailing, "Mommy come back!  Mommy come back!"  He couldn't find his Star Wars guys, Fans.  Ted asked if they were still in the Hoth system (the back corner of the "hall"-vacuum -cleaner closet).  Joe said no.  Ted believed him (meaning he believed that Joe had checked) so several frustrating minutes ensued until Ted really checked the Hoth system and found most of the Rebel and Imperial forces still there.  Apparently, most of the guys went, not just two.  You can probably figure why.  At that point, the shoe and coat donning gauntlet probably hadn't yet been run.  It's hard to make the jump to light speed when leaving Raleigh House, as you know, Fans.

So that was Friday.  It wasn't even 8am before Julie's heart had welled up full to bursting, and burst.  Saturday, she went out for a bit right after putting Clara down for her nap.  Ted was dozing on the couch.  Joe was pattering around.  Julie gave Joe a hug, Ted a kiss, and headed out.  When she got where she was going, she checked her phone and found this message, sent from Ted at 1:01pm: "Joe snuck out the backdoor so he could watch you drive off.  That woke me up!"  Oh Pal-o!  It's a good thing I didn't know that.  I might not have driven away!  I would have had to come right back and scoop you up and try to keep with me on Tatooine forever.  That's not how it works.  I don't even want it to, really.  Just sometimes.

Solid

Bathroom is going from a cafe au lait brown that never contrasted as envisioned with the white  to dark gray and white (like the tile), with pale yellow towels (we think).  Oh, and there's Ted painting.  He's wonderful.

So Fans, as we've seen, while a bathroom is a luxury, so, too, is an additional bathroom.  There is nothing like dismantling a home's sole bathroom in order to repaint it while living with two preschoolers to make one long with something approaching desperation for a second bathroom.  We know, because we have dismantled Raleigh House's sole bathroom in order to paint it and--and this author does not make this up--Ted was just overheard saying, "Seriously?  Every time I turn around one of you is having to go to the bathroom!"  The nerve.  But it is a little extra crazy around Raleigh House this weekend because of the mini-bathroom remodel.

Ted is doing all of the painting really, so Julie has been making herself useful by cleaning, spring cleaning, and errand running.  This afternoon, she took Joe to DSW (to look for black ballet flats), Old Navy (to purchase him shorts because by the time we can wear them here in the Great White North, they will no longer be in stores), the Little Target (to return some things and pick up pictures of Clara with the sky in honor of her room's new sky theme), and to McDonald's (for shamrock shakes).

Julie had gotten Joe and Clara some new kicks at Target yesterday and part of her spring cleaning entailed tossing their worn out or too small sneakers.  This footwear routing necessarily entailed a talking up of the new sneakers to Joe.  They came up again on the way to DSW when Joe asked Julie what salad meant.  What?
"Salad?!"
"No, SALAD!"
"Salad?!!!"
"S O L I D."
"Oh, solid."
(Joe sits behind the passenger seat and so is to Julie's right if she is driving.  This is the ear out of which she hears less which is how it comes to be that she has these exchanges with Joe of the sort they will still be having in 30 year's time, only Joe will then be as old as Julie is now--wow.)

So solid.  Julie had used it in it's slang sense as she described the plan of attack, like: "So we're going to go to DSW and look quickly for ballet flats, and then go to Old Navy where we'll have to spend a little longer, and then to the Little Target which should be super quick, and then to McDonald's for the shakes which we'll get at the drive thru.  Solid plan?"  This last was rhetorical and said unthinkingly, hence the salad-solid confusion.

So at first Julie said that solid was a state of matter (only she didn't remember that brainiac phrase at the time), like a car was solid, but water was not; water was liquid.  But as she was saying all of this, it dawned on her that Joe was asking because she'd used solid in the slang sense.  So to explain what it means, first she had to explain what slang is and how words can have multiple meanings.  Julie is pleased to report that she thought up cool as an example Joe would know pretty quickly: cool means both a little cold or chilly and also, as slang, awesome, rad.  Solid, Julie explained, in the slang sense, was kind of like that--cool, all good.

Joe was quit for a moments and then he said, "These shoes are solid."

And that, was solid.

After errand running

A Morning Tableau

Every week day morning, while Julie stands in the bathroom curling her hair, Joe pads in to use the potty.  He only ever pees, so he stands.  After he's done, Fans. . .Fans, it takes him forever and a day to gather himself back up and make it back to the dining room table to finish what's left of his yogurt.  First, he just sort of stands there looking all about, but not really taking anything in.  Then, he pulls up his underwear.  That takes about a decade.  After that of course, he spends another decade pulling up his pajama pants.  Despite the fact that about 99% of the time, he would pull his underwear and pants or shorts up together, following his morning pee, this is not the case.  Why?????  Similarly, after he's pulled up his underwear, and then his pants, he will then put down the potty seat--and then the potty lid.  Then, he'll flush.  Then, he'll wander (which is really the only word for it) out of the bathroom.  Increasingly often, Clara will appear at the doorway announcing that she has to go to the bathroom.  Typically this toward the beginning of Joe's lackadaisical morning potty routine.  And why not?  You'll no doubt recall, Dearest Readers, that the bathroom is the smallest room of Raleigh House and the more people that can be in it at one time, the more exciting everything is.

Most mornings Julie will burst out with things like, "JOE!  Joe.  Look.  ALIVE!"  Then she'll think, "Why do you care?  Just mind your business.  Kid wants to take an absolute eon to pee, so be it."  But the next morning, he'll be standing there with his underwear around his knees, paused to consider. . .what?  Who can say?  And Clara will be at the door repeating over and over again that she has to go potty while Julie is like three curls away from being DONE and she'll say something like, "Joe.  We live in a society.  Clara needs to use the potty.  Pick.  Up.  The.  Pace."

By the way, Fans, the fun doesn't stop once Joe leaves the bathroom.  Clara still insists on wiping herself with no more than two squares of toilet paper which she quite deliberately wads up until they are the size of the head of a Q-tip--and then she wipes.  And Julie cannot help herself from saying that this method defeats, utterly, what is surely at least 50% of toilet paper's purpose, it's glory--i.e. to avoid getting pee or poop on one's hand when wiping.  Surely there is a way to be both sanitary and environmentally conscious.

Until they've got it figured out, we'll all be in the bathroom.

Of Aquaphor, Lady Parts Strep, and Tigers

Birdie couldn't even hold her head up this morning.

Last night, at Chipotle, Joe and Clara had this exchange:
Clara: "My body hurts."
[beat]
Joe: "Is it your joints?"

So there you have it, Fans: a glimpse of the bambini, many, many, many years from now when they will, the good Lord willing, still have each other for all manner of things, not the least of which is someone to ask after their joints.

We can't make this stuff up, but we can acknowledge that one's of Joe's classmates brought a book in about bodies this week and it would seem joints were a hot topic in the pre-K room--in addition the body's waste products (naturally--this is a group of four and five-year-olds after all).

In any case, it is also true that this morning found us beginning another Saturday with another hot potato bambino in our bed.  This time it was Birdie, with whom something was clearly up last night when she went to bed.  What really tipped us off was the fact that she actually went to bed rather straight off, instead of engaging in her usual bedtime shenanigans: bouncing about her bed, getting in and out of bed to dart about the room doing God only knows what, cackling, and so on.

But we had also asked Biride what hurt, and she'd pointed to her lady parts, the center ribbon of which was red.  A little Aquaphor never hurt anything.  Frankly, Fans, that could be the Raleigh House motto.  Looks red?  Pink?  Chapped?  Cracked?  Dry?  Like it hurts?  A little Aquaphor never hurt anything.  So we dabbed a little on, doped her up with some Motrin, and put her to bed knowing that we'd be at the doctor's in the morning.

By the time this morning rolled around, she had a fever of 102, though things were looking less red in the nether regions.  At the pediatrician's office, we learned that there is strep throat, and then there is strep lady parts, shall we say.  There are also, of course, yeast infections.  But despite the fact that Birdie just kicked the strep (throat), and the fact that antibiotics have been a steady part of her diet for the past month between the impetigo and the strep throat, neither yeast infection nor lady parts strep was found. We were told to put some bacitracin on Birdie's lady parts, and continue with the Motrin.  We're waiting to see if something else presents itself in the the fullness of time, or if things resolve.  In the meantime, it would seem that a little Bacitracin never hurt anything either.

Since waking up from her nap, Birdie has been flapping about like her usual self and fever-free.  So a little time never hurt anything either.

Oh--we should tell you this, Brigade: at the doctor's office, while the Birds were waiting for the results of the lady parts strep test, Birdie examined Julie, including Julie's ears.  Following the exam, Julie asked Clara if she'd found any puppies in Julie's ears.  Clara--quite seriously--replied, "No.  Tigers."  When Julie asked what was to be done, Clara just stared at her.  Aquaphor.  Probably Aquaphor.  Can't hurt.  Might help.