Birdie's New Friends

Clara added some new friends to the bedtime gang after opening her birthday presents.  The crew now includes Minnie, Daisy Duck, Dora, two small dolls about six inches tall named "Amazing Ashley" and "Preppy Paige," (both of whom came with wee inch-high accessories--brushes for their luxurious locks, and dogs--both of which were immediately "lost") and a Care Bear.  (The Chloes have been relegated to the steerage in the basket.  Fickle are the affections of the three-year-old.)  The Care Bear is pink with a rainbow on its tummy which makes it Cheer Bear.  But Cheer Bear doesn't have the currency as say your Minnie, or your Dora.  So of course Joe asked what Cheer Bear's name was, and of course--of course--Clara christened "her" Bubba.  Cheer Bear does look like a Bubba.

Reading With Interrupting Him and Her

We have been reading a lot of Berenstain Bears books of late.  (The B. Bears, as Julie likes to call them.)  We own a few of them, but recently checked out a treasury of five or so from the library.  Julie thinks they are in a treasury because they aren't classics of the series.  In any case, they feel like they are on their way to becoming Raleigh House classics.  In any case, this B. Bears frenzy has coincided with with Joe insisting on every last word on the page being read. Is there a picture of someone laughing punctuated with a "Heh heh heh!"?  (The B. Bears and the New Baby.)  Is there a chart with chores meted out for acts of rudeness?  (The B. Bears Forget Their Manners.)  What we need is a volume entitled The Berenstain Bears and the Trouble With Interrupting, though incidentally interrupting is an infraction highlighted in The B. Bears Forget Their Manners, though despite reading it 57 times in the past two weeks, this reporter cannot recall the punishment.  (But name calling--the ultimate in misbehavior down a sunny dirt road in Bear Country--is cleaning out the cellar.  And if you think it's easy keeping a cellar clean in a tree house, well, you've never tried it.  So says The B. Bears and the Messy Room.)

The B. Bears craze has also coincided with Clara beginning to tack down gendered pronouns.  There was rather a lot of stopping for a while to denote him and her and you can see, can't you, how it would be rather a lot in a book with a Papa Bear ("That's a him."), Mama Bear ("That's a her."), Brother Bear ("That's a him."), and Sister Bear ("That's a her.").  Mercifully, she seems to have got at least the Family Bear sorted.

Clara also liked to read herself sometimes.  Oh, never mind you mind, Dear Readers, you, that she's also still tacking down the alphabet.  Our Birdie has never let anything like her actual abilities stand in the way of her ambitions.  Tonight, Julie--and Clara--read a Cars pre-reader called Old, New, Red, Blue.  It is a scintillating exploration of opposites using characters and scenes from Cars: "Old truck.  New car.  Red truck.  Blue car.  Shiny and bright.  Dull and brown."  Eventually, one reaches "Dirty car."

You know what comes next, Brigade.  Birdie did, too, and she used context to fill it right in: "Get.  A.  Car.  Wash."  Naturally The Professor was quick to interrupt with "No!  CLEAN CAR!"

Juice Box Revelation

Juice boxes: the scourge of parents everywhere until their child is old enough to understand his or her own strength.  Does it matter how many times one hands a toddler or preschooler a juice box with the admonition to hold it gently, not to clutch it in a death grip that results in juice spurting out on the front of his or her shirt as it is lifted up to his or her mouth?  It doesn't.  We've not yet reached the glory of design that is represented by the Capri Sun, but here we pause to ask: who designed its ridiculous packaging?  A foil pouch that has to be punctured just so with that flimsy straw?  Really?

For our Fans out there who are not yet past all of the joys of juice boxes, we offer this life-changing tip, which comes to us from Daphne's mom who shared it at Birdie's birthday bash: flip up and hold it by the wings.  You know how the tops of juice boxes are folded down on either side of it's top?  Like if wrapping paper was being folded into a point on the side of a present?  If you flip those puppies up and then hand it to your wee one with the directive to hold it by the wings, your success rate for spurting-free sipping increases by 100% because the death grip is being exercised on the wings, rather than the center of the boxes.

Ah-mazing.  (But you're on your own with Capri Suns.)

Birdie Turns Three

Well Birdie Brigade, our Clara Jane is three.  She's knows she three, and can hold up three fingers, so we figure she's pretty much set for the year.  It's been one long celebration since Friday morning that began with her waking to her family's enthusiastic chorus of Happy Birthday.  (Well, to be fair, Joe was not very enthusiastic.  It took him a bit to get on the it's Clara's birthday train.  But it had not really pulled out of the station before he'd hopped on and by Saturday afternoon's party, he made himself busy ferrying the gifts Clara's guests brought inside to the dining room table without anyone asking him.)  The festivities culminated in a birthday bash yesterday outside on the front lawn.  Clara celebrated with Grandma Connie and Grandpa Charles, all her great-great-great aunts, her third cousin (or a cousin some number removed--cousins get confusing, right?), and about 20 other of her nearest and dearest including about 12 under the age of 10 who consumed their collective weight in juice boxes.  And, it was in low seventies, Brigade!  We could not have dialed up a better day which we think seemed only fitting.

Birdie, at three.

First cake.

Second cake.

Heh.  I got two cakes.  Do you think I'll get three cakes when I'm four?  Is that how this works?

It's my birthday.  This is my cake.  I can stick my fingers in the frosting. 

Fros-TING!

"I want some letters."

C-L-A-R-A

Finding the leftovers after the party.

Party Girl

Shangri-La

Despite the morning mayhem that kerfuffle might suggest, Ted has just informed Julie that the bambini have, of late, been donning their coats, hats, gloves or mittens, and shoes without excessive reminders that culminate in someone--a parent--fulminating about how departing the house in the morning is like mounting a military campaign with one sock and shoelace.  (That's the sort of nonsense that comes out of your mouth when you are trying to maintain forward momentum toward an on-time departure in the morning with an almost-five-year-old and almost (even more!)-three-year-old.)  Ted reports that sometimes, the bambini announce that they're ready to go, and he isn't ready!  Apparently, we should be renaming Raleigh House Shangri-La because it is all la-di-da around here in the morning's final departure push.

It only took all winter.  They're set for the season the only they they need to put on to leave besides underwear and clothes are Crocs.  Perfect.

(Really, we strongly suspect that the impetus for the newfound ability to move swiftly and deliberately through the final make-ready-to-leave tasks is Joe's desire to race out the door first; reach the front gate, open it, and go through it first; and reach the car first--hopefully with enough time to climb up on the back gate and peer over it at the slow pokes who follow.  The Raleigh House name change may be short lived once the shine wears off of all that.)

Not Smart

On the way home a few weeks ago, Joe asked Julie what stupid meant.  Before answering, Julie naturally had a few questions of her own like: did you call someone stupid?  Did someone call you stupid (like a big stupidhead)?  Where did you hear the word stupid?  Joe naturally had no answers.  The word just popped into his head of course.  Julie told him that stupid meant not smart, but that it wasn't a very nice word to express that idea.

A week ago Monday, in the morning, Julie was standing in the bathroom curling her hair, when she heard a kerfuffle of some sort break out in the living room and Joe wail, "CLARA!  YOU'RE BEING STUPID!"  When Julie quickly admonished him and told him that we never call someone else stupid, especially our sister, Joe hesitated the briefest of moments before wailing, "But Mommy!  She's being NOT SMART!"

He's very smart, Fans.

Keeping the Faith

Fans.  We did not abandon you.  No, we've just been shoveling snow, because as we have noted here before, we do spring like winter here in Minnesota.  Now, to be sure, the six to eight inches that accumulated here in the Twin Cities last Thursday night was not so terrible when one compared it to the events that unfolded in other parts of our nation last week, but around here, well, it felt like another log on the fire all the same.  And it's snowing AGAIN right now, Fans.  AGAIN.  (Do you remember, three years ago this week, when Our Birdie burst onto the scene?  The apple tree was in bloom and we brought her home on a perfect, blue-sky spring day.  Now that was a spring!)  So we've been sort of glum--trying to remember all that is beautiful in this world while we watched terrible things happen and tried not be scared, and slogging through snow, cloudy days, and colds.  (Birdie has been sick, and so has Ted.)  But, we are told that this winter storm is our very, very last and it might reach 70 this Saturday when we celebrate Birdie's third birthday here at Raleigh House.  Birdie is well enough to be getting into trouble with her erstwhile sidekick again, and Ted is well enough to be entering that fray again.  So we keep the faith, we keep the faith for brighter days.

As it happens, today is Earth Day.  When Julie arrived home with the bambini and they settled into read for a bit while Ted finished making dinner, Clara selected Hug Time from the shelf.  Clara calls this book "Heart We Love You" because the cover features its main character, a tiny cat named, Jules, hugging a large pink heart.*  In Hug-Time-Heart-We-Love-You, Jules embarks on a quest to give the whole world a hug to make it feel better and learns that "The world is so big. . .And yet so small, It's time that we embrace it all.  That's something that we all can do.  Start with the one who's closest to you."  And that's when you holler "HUG TIME!" and wrap your arms around everyone who's around you.

As we say, we are keeping the faith, holding on to those closest to us as we wait for a new spring.

*Fans of the comic strips Mutts would recognize the illustrations of Hug Time's author, Pat McDonnell.

Flowers, blue skies. . .

And Birdie.

Bedtime Travails Continue Mostly Unabated, Our Hero Attempts Bold New Course

Fans, as we bring you this bulletin, the bambini are attempting to put themselves to bed at a reasonable hour while their respective biggest fan is in the bed less than six feet across the way.  It's been rough going of late.  Clara's latest shenanigan has been to leap out of bed the moment we've departed to turn on the light.  Luckily, Ted remembered that one can turn the light off with the ceiling fan's pull chain, rendering the light switch superfluous.  (It's a good thing, too, because Julie was ready to remove the switch plate cover and cut the wires to best her daughter.  She does tend to go extremes.  Oh, she WILL show them.  It was as she contemplated this move that she called for Ted reinforcements.)  Birdie's other go-to bedtime disruption maneuver is to antagonize Joe by getting all up in his grill.  It's all F 'n' G until Joe dissolves into tears, which is what happened rather quickly tonight.

So Julie sent Clara out of the room and sat down to have a chat with Joe about the two things he needs to be working on.  First, the resurgence in the reliance on crying to solve problems.  Julie pointed out that he was pretty creative and pretty smart, so she knew he could use his brain more to figure out a better way to solve his problems.  She reminded him that he was going to be going to kindergarten in the fall, and he had to have this figured out by then.  Second, she said he had to stand up for himself.  Joe broke in and said, "I'm going turn and face the wall."  (This would mean he wouldn't be facing Clara.)

Fans.  He said it with such conviction.  It was such a great moment.  Julie said "YES!" and held her hand for a high five.  She said, "You go!  And you stick to your guns!"

And Joe said, "You said gun."

Sigh.

Julie said that was true, but that it was part of an expression--like raining buckets, which means it's raining a lot, but not actually raining buckets.  But still, point taken, and she'd think of some other way to say what she meant and came up with "Stand your ground," right about the same time that Joe said, "It's raining baseballs!"

Sure.

And now Birdie is down there making a racket, but there's no sound from Our Hero.

Clara's Very First Play Date of Her Very Own

Clara, Silvia, and Daphne

Birdie, in a circular boat like they use in Vietnam.

The Boss.  (Move over, Bruce.)

Birdie on the climbing wall in the Dora and Diego exhibit.

This morning, the Bird flew across the river to meet Clara's friends Daphne and Silvia and their mothers at the Children's Museum.  It was Clara's first ever play date of her very, very own--i.e. where the friends were just hers and not the younger siblings of friends Joe knew first.  (Her other buddies are Connor, Emma, and Avrey, but they are the younger siblings of Graham, Eli, and Austin, respectively--all friends Joe knew first.)  Daphne and Silvia came up through the KinderCare ranks with Clara.  They were all in the same toddler room, then in the same "twos" room, and have recently been reunited in Pre-C.  Clara spent some time this morning tearing about the house hollering "Daphne and Silvia!"

So excitement was at a fever pitch, and the morning did not disappoint.  Daphne hugged Clara so hard when the Birds walked into the museum, the girls nearly toppled over.  This scene was repeated with Silvia arrived.  There is a visiting exhibit about circles and after each of the mothers had painted her respective daughter's face, that's where the girls spent a lot of time.  But they also explored the World Works and Earth World galleries, and--the Dora and Diego exhibit, also visiting.  Clara was the first to tear into it, where Julie found her clutching Boots* in an ardent and passionate hug.

By a quarter to eleven, Clara was on the verge of having an excitement-induced breakdown, and you know, Julie wouldn't have been far behind her, though for different reasons.  (Another Sunday in April that feels like an early March Sunday makes for a crowded and slightly insane Children's Museum experience.)  But they made it out without incident, and then!--Julie managed to keep Clara awake all the way back across the river until they got to Punch for lunch (Pizza!  They are circles!  Wheels!  Let's find all the circles outside!  And sing songs!  What do you want me to sing?!?!  Take Me Out To the Ball Game again?!?!  O-kay!).  The Birds had a lovely, cozy ladies lunch in the mercifully, for-once-not-very-crowded Punch while the snow flew outside.

And now the exhausted Birdie is asleep.

*"A furry monkey and Dora's best friend."  Thanks, Inter-webs!

Less Is More

Our Birdie is a clothes horse.  Though she be but two-almost-three, we can tell.  Tonight, we heard crying coming from the bambini's room.  When Julie called in to find out what was the matter, Clara said "the sweater isn't working."  Indeed.  Clara had opened up her wardrobe and gotten down her two hoodies and a cardigan--more of a shrug really--and had proceeded to put them all on on top of her long-sleeved fleece pajama top.  The cardigan wasn't built for quite that much layering, much to Birdie's consternation, and while it's true in fashion that one often has to make it work, it is also often true that less is more.

Much to Julie's consternation, she realized that Birdie had been out of bed not only to round up the transitional outerwear, but also to add still more animals to the ark-that-was-Joe's-bed as well as their capes.  As Julie was removing enough items from Joe's bed to allow the two of them enough room to sleep there tonight, she swore to God that if they didn't stop getting out of bed to gather up all manner of things to drag into it, she was going to figure out some way to take every last thing out of that room.  After a moment, Joe said, "Even us?"

So we guess he called her bluff.  Apparently, when it comes to hyperbole, less may also be more.

Just Another Day at the Park

Aunt Kate leaves tomorrow, Fans.  Sigh.  We didn't do anything particularly special for her State Visit (well, we made her a birthday cake), but she made everything more special all the same, you know? We will miss her so.  This afternoon, the sun came out so we headed out on a walk which turned into a walk to the park.  Joe started out on the scooter Santa brought for him, but since he's terribly good and pushing off, but not then gliding, he abandoned it in favor of tearing off down the sidewalk with his arms extended hollering, "To infinity!  And beyond!"  (What he lacks in scooter skills as of yet, he makes up for in Buzz Lightyear imitation skills.)  Clara walked the whole way to the park holding her Aunt Kate's hand.  Once at the park, Joe tore about like one of the big kids for whom he used to make way.  There's this blue gear-shaped part of the playground that used to intimidate him.  Today, he was climbing all over it, and swinging from one part to catch another part with his feet.  Clara bounced around like a ping pong ball, steering clear of the big kids, but trying everything, and calling to everyone, especially Joe, "Look at me!"  It felt so fabulous to be outside, and to have Aunt Kate with us for our very first 2013 park outing.

Of Marble(s)

In the wake of Julie's hollering and leaping about like a rabid jackrabbit the other night, Joe and Clara have kept their bedtime antics to a minimum.  Go figure.  Tonight, after Julie had given each of the bambini a piggyback ride to bed, Ted hung around and told them a Moe story.  Really, it's a Moe and Sara story, but they go by Moe stories, and Joe or Clara or both will attempt to secure them almost as soon as the cover on the last book is closed.  Emotional blackmail of the waterworks variety typically ensues if Ted breaks the bad news that it is not a Moe story night.  Occasionally, before resorting to the emotional blackmail, the bambini will ask Julie (Ted's understudy) to sing a song.  Lately, she's been singing Do Re Mi (or, Doe a Deer as it's called here at Raleigh House), and the bambini have begun to imitate her motions (tea with jam and bread and all) and it's all very charming.

Anyway.  Tonight was a Moe Story Night.  Upon emerging, Ted told Julie and Kate that Joe had made some remark indicating that they would act appropriately, "so Mommy won't lose her marble."

Almost five years into this gig, and Julie does only have the one left.

Clara continues to migrate to Joe's bed.  Last night, she awoke at 4:30am crying because she couldn't "curl up."  You see the number of animal friends in the bed, right, Fans?  And pillows?  And blankets?

Aunt Kate Arrives!

Julie had the sort of collapse she had last night in part, probably, because there was no other adult around to talk her down.  Ted was picking Aunt Kate up at the airport.  Yes!!!!!  Aunt Kate is here!!!!!  For her first day here, we took her to the zoo in the cold!  Welcome back to Minnesota, where we do spring like winter!  The sun was out and it wasn't so bad in the sun.  (This would be before it SNOWED in the afternoon.  It didn't stick, but still.)  The farm animals have been having babies, and baby farm animals sounds good in any kind of weather and really, they were.

Um, am I supposed to eat your glove?  Hey, Kid, you're supposed to ask your mom or dad for some quarters and then what you do see, is you put them in that machine over there, and get me some food.  So you go on now. . .Go on.

Aunt Kate.  A new person to pick-y me-y up-y.

Hellooooo, Grandpa Charles!

Kids R Crazy and Parenting Is Hard (Or, the Importance of Sleep)

"Kids r crazy."  That's how Sara replied when Julie texted Sara last night that she'd yelled so loud at Joe and Clara, she'd broken a sweat.  You read that, Fans.  She.  Broke.  A.  Sweat.  It might also have been because at one point she was jumping up and down to punctuate her rant.  You read that right as well.  Jumping.  Up.  And.  Down.  No doubt--no doubt--Julie looked like a lunatic.  This might have been why Clara was laughing.  After all, the night before, when Ted marched into their room and tossed the Cars racetrack out into the hallway in pieces, Julie stood in the doorway of the bathroom trying to swallow her laughter.  He looked like a lunatic, but Julie didn't want him to see her laughing because she knew he just happened to reach the end of his rope faster that night but it could have just as easily been her.  She didn't want him to think she was laughing at him.

For whatever reason--probably the newfound thrill of sharing a bed--the bambini have been off the rails again at bedtime.  They laugh.  They cackle.  They screech.  They shriek.  They sing.  They yell.  Eventually, there are tears because eventually, one of them inadvertently kicks the other, or hits the other, or punches the other.  But of course, these are not inadvertent slights to the one who is suffering them.  No, to that one, the blow was not an accident.  Tears might also be shed because in all of the flopping and jostling and jockeying for position, a leg, arm, or head might meet with the bed or the wall.  An animal friend could fall out of bed as well, and well, you know, it's an ocean of fire there a foot off the bed.

Sometimes the bambini risk the hot lava though, and emerge from their bedroom, almost always as a pair.  They walk into the living room, with expressions that seem to say, "Oh.  My.  God.  What are you doing out here?!?! Are you bathing in Skittles while you watch Cars on multiple screens eating ice cream?!?!"  Then Joe, clearly the assumed spokesperson, will say something like "We need water."  (These two would never make it in the desert.  Never.)

All of this means that the bambini have been up until about nine o'clock lately.  That, in turn, means that if, say for example, one asks Birdie to put on her shoes, one is met with petulant resistance that is really terribly tiresome before 8am.

So last night, Julie head reached the end of her rope and was left yelling and jumping up and down like a lunatic.  Joe may have at one point, through tears, wailed, "I can't handle it anymore," and Julie might have roared back, "Well me neither!"  They are both sensitive souls.  Clara of course was laughing at the great show.  Don't turn that dial!

When the storm had passed, of course, Julie felt awful.  Ordinarily, this would be when she would begin crying again because she'd be thinking she'd failed at everything except suggesting to Joe and Clara that a useful way to solve problems is to holler and jump up and down like some psychopathic rabbit.  But, Julie has been working hard at not making these kinds of big leaps, too, and last night, after the storm had passed, all she really wanted to do was be with the bambini.  She wanted them to know she felt awful, and to hug them because she figured they felt at least a little awful, too, having been hollered at by a jumping mother.

So Julie went in the bambini's room, and said she was sorry she'd lost her temper, and she was working on pulling it in when she felt that she was going to lose her temper.  She said she thought it was great that the bambini had someone to talk to and giggle and snuggle with at bedtime, but that they took it too far and needed to work on pulling it in, too.  At the end she said, "O-kay?"  And the bambini said, "O-kay."

So o-kay.

Still, kids are crazy, and what a gift, to have a friend who will tell you that when you forget, so that you can remember the corollary: parenting--raising a person, people--is hard.  Growing up, too.

Which is why it's important, for everyone, to go to bed.

This wasn't last night.  This was the other night ago.  The first night Clara wore underwear to bed.  Three nights accident-free and counting!

Awful Good Parenting

Background: It was Saturday.  Ted had been awake very early due to a back strain he suffered while shoveling water from the back walkway, and Julie had also lost sleep all week due to a sinus infection. They also had plans to go out to dinner that night with friends. So when family quiet time rolled around Julie was quick to claim the sofa as her napping spot, and Ted headed upstairs to the big bed.  Joe was reminded that it was quiet time and he needed to do his own activities because everyone else was taking a nap.  When we left him, he was drawing a picture at the dining room table and had plans to set the iPad up to watch the Cars 2 movie.

Ted, upon being woken by Joe at 2:30pm: Joe asked Ted if it was time for Clara to get up.  Ted looked at the clock and seeing it wasn't quite three when Clara would ordinarily wake up, said, "No, Joe.  Not yet."  Then, Ted rolled back over and fell back asleep.

Julie, upon waking up at around 4:15pm from a deep sleep:  She saw that the door to the bambini's room was open and Clara was out of her bed.  But the house was quiet, so she figured that the bambini must be upstairs with Ted or that they'd all ducked out for a walk.  (It was, after all, almost spring like outside that afternoon.)  She needed to run to the tailor to pick up some pants she planned to wear that very night before the tailor closed.  She gathered her stuff and walked out the front door to the car which was in the front of the house by the curb.  Before driving off she sent Ted a text letting him know she would be back soon.

Ted, upon waking up at around 4:20pm from a deep sleep:  The house was quiet and he headed downstairs.  From the upstairs window he saw the kids outside playing in the sandbox which was, just that day, finally accessible because enough of the winter's snow had melted.  Outdoor toys were scattered across the yard.  He figured Julie took the kids outside to play.  He walked to the kitchen and deduced from the stems littered across the counter top that Joe had been eating the strawberries from the container there.  He went to the back door, slipped on his shoes to walk outside when he glanced at his phone and saw the text (4:17pm) from Julie: "Going to pick up my pants. Babysitter comes at 6:30." Still in a stupor he went outside and said hi to the bambini, who were in snow pants, snow boots, winter coats, hats and gloves in almost 50-degree weather.  Ted and bambini bantered idly back and forth, but Ted was slowly, but slowly, starting to put the pieces together.  The largest piece being: the kids were out here alone.  At first he wondered if Julie decided to leave the bambini unsupervised so she could run to the tailor, but that didn't seem right.  So he calmly told them that they should go inside for snack, which the bambini were happy to do.  They were stripped of their muddy, sandy winter gear all the way to underwear and escorted inside.

Julie, upon arriving home from the tailor at about 4:45pm:  She parked in the back and saw the pile of gear and clothes at the back door.  She let herself in and was soon in the kitchen cleaning some dishes at the sink when Ted strolled by and asked extremely casually, "So. . .did you let the kids outside?"  Julie said, "No."  And then it all finally clicked.

And so we are left to wonder: are we awful parents?  Falling asleep while our almost-five year old had free range of the house with unlocked doors?  So long that the almost-five year old was them joined by his almost-three year old sister?  Perhaps, Fans, perhaps.

But, we are also, frankly, rather proud parents.  As best we can figure, Joe whiled away his time with activities for two hours, then checked on Birdie and finding her awake, suggested they play together outside.  They knew to put on all their winter gear (two feet from Julie's head, mind you).  Joe must have gotten Clara zipped up.  Then, they headed outside, went into the garage and pulled out the usual toys, before realizing they could get at the sandbox, which they then did.

Possibly irresponsible parents terribly proud of their impossibly responsible children.

The scene when Ted walked outside at 4:20pm.  Looks innocent enough, right?

Birdie Flies Higher

Yesterday, Clara began her transition to the Preschool C room.  She spent the morning there, and returned to her Twos room at lunchtime and stayed there the remainder of the day.  She was with Ms. Manisha when Julie arrived to pick the bambini up, and Ms. Manisha reported that all was well.

Clara reports that they are discussing bugs in Ms. Jenny's room--butterflies, lady bugs, beetles, bumble bees. . .check, check, check, and check.  Joe reports that he knows what a butterfly comes from.  Julie said yes, she did, too!  A cocoon.  That's what she learned in A Very Hungry Caterpillar.  Eric Carle is peddling misinformation.  Joe--and Ted--informed Julie and Clara that a butterfly emerges from a chrysalis.

Julie collected Clara before continuing on to Pre-K to collect Joe.  Julie was corralling him when she noticed that Clara had quietly sidled up to her friend Sylvia at the Legos table.  Clara stood there next to Sylvia just beaming away, just like the cat that got cream.  Julie was watching when Sylvia reached over to pet Clara gently on the front of her puffy coat.  Then, they sort of leaned into each other.

It's good to have buddies like that, isn't it, Brigade?  Julie felt so glad for them, and so glad to have seen that moment.

Peas In a Pod (Bed)

Sunday night, something happened here at Raleigh House that's never happened: the bambini fell asleep next to each other in the same bed, Joe's bed.  They spent the whole night next to each other in that bed.  Last night, they were in their own beds.  Tonight, they are back together in Joe's bed.  Julie just went in there when Joe started to wail.  According to Joe, Clara had thrown something at him; according to Clara, she'd shared something.

Following a gentle reminder about gentle sharing and a confirmation that all were happy together in Joe's bed, Joe announced, "Clara is wearing underwear."  So that's rockin'.  More rockin' will be if she's dry in the morning.  We shall keep you updated as events unfold, Brigade.