Christmas Eve Photos

Family Photo, after church on December 23

Setting up is hard to do with 6 of us

Enjoying a weekend pre-Christmas visit from Jenny's cousin Elizabeth, who drove up from Pittsburgh.

Two of the James, in Grand Blanc on Christmas Eve

The clan

John really liked this remote control "dirt bike"

After Grand Blanc, we swung over to Davison for a visit

At Meijer Gardens on December 23

Christmas Day

If you were a fly on our wall this Christmas morning, these are the things you might have heard and seen...

And then, we added children.

Waking up sleepy-head Dad.

It's a team project.

But watch out for when Dad is just playing 'possum. He might fight back.

John (age 5), in a voice of disbelief that would have made any teenager proud: "Underwear? Really?"

John (5) to his siblings, who had given him a Monster Truck game for the Wii: "Thank you! Thank you!"
Margaret (8) in reply: "Unh. Ok, no more hugging!"

Helen (22 months): ________________________ (That represents dead silence, as she methodically consumed two squares of Ghiradelli chocolate from her stocking for breakfast.)

Sorry, Mom. Can't smile. I have chocolate to eat.

James (11), in a voice of resignation (tinged with a bit of pride in having guessed the contents of the package): "May I open my socks now?"

Nope. James considered, and these were definitely not socks. (A new book light from his brother and sister.)

Margaret (8): "Oh no! Helen has finger paints? Bye bye nice new purple bathroom walls."

She liked the Harry Potter Wii game from her brothers. Can you tell?

 
Helen (22 months): "Hey! That's mine!" (So proud that this is one of her clearest full sentences yet.)

Most of Helen's presents were "recycled" - gifts we already had in the house, refurbished with new batteries as needed. She seemed fine with that. Although, her absolute favorite was the gift she had picked out for herself while shopping with me last week - a new ball.

John (5): (SHRIEK!) Thank you, Mommy! I've always wanted one! (And so, it begins. We gave in on the electronics and gave him a Nintendo DSi. Price is not so bad now that the DS3 came out. And now we may have to surgically remove it from his hands. Hoping we can all resist the temptation to let him carry it everywhere, joining the ranks of little siblings everywhere we go - kids sports events at school, doctors' waiting rooms, etc. - who are sitting comatose, glued to their portable game device or parents' smartphone instead of watching the world, talking to their parent, and generally learning through healthy boredom.)

Close-up of the kids. James was trying to look odd, because that is what 11-year-olds like to do. But, a photo with 3 out of 4 smiles captured is a success in my book. 

How to converse with a curious kindergartener

My conversation with 5-year-old John today while driving home from James's middle school Christmas concert:

"Mom, how sharp is a steak knife?"

"Um, I don't know. There are all different kinds of steak knives, and they aren't all the same sharpness."

"But what kinds are there?"

"Well, there are serrated and smooth, and different brands, and..I don't know. Why do you want to know?"

"I just want to know how sharp a steak knife is."

"Well, I can't really tell you, John. I don't know a way to describe sharpness." I was now getting a bit frustrated. I was trying to drive home in the dark, in the rain, with tired kids. Why was I having this conversation, anyway? In a flash of annoyance, I answered randomly, "Seven, John. They are seven sharp."

"Whoa!" His delighted giggle was surprised and immediate. "That is awesome!"

Sweet Mom Moment

Helen is at that age where I can be stunned at any moment with how much she has learned, and how quickly. I think she continues to be least "talkative" of any of our 4 kids were at comparable ages, but she certainly does communicate just fine. She uses just a few favorite words often, punctuated by new or occasional words for clarity, and all well-seasoned with expressive pointing and gestures.

She has been adding language, I know, because she now clearly understands so much of what we say. Just in the last few days, she will often repeat words after you, whereas even last week she would refuse to utter new sounds, even to blankly repeat them. Now, she repeats them and acts as if she has always known them and wonders why you are asking her to say them now.

Today, she had another small language breakthrough that was fun to witness. We were sitting in a small lobby, waiting for a car repair. I had brought a bag of picture books to pass the hour. The one she chose today was a chunky, oversized board book with few words. Each page had photographs of baby faces, labeled with a common emotion. Sleepy. Angry. Shy.

"Helen, look, these babies feel Sad."

"Sad." She repeated this after me, quite clearly.

"Here are some happy babies."

"Hop! Baby Hop!"

"Yes, the babies feel happy."

Our scintillating conversation went on in this vein for a while. Then she got bored and asked to nurse. She plopped sideways in my lap, snuggled her head into the crook of my arm, and requested, "Ide!" Then, unusually, instead of wriggling impatiently or pulling at my shirt, she paused, looked up at me, and said, "Baby hop!"

I thought a minute. "Helen, do you mean that you feel happy now?"

She silently grinned and nodded enthusiastically. What more could a mom really want from a day?

Helen is growing up

I came home from work today to be greeted by Helen. At 21 months, she can act quite official. Today, she appeared as if she would like to be playing the role of official greeter and tour guide, but was drawn away by another task that was even more enticing.

"Momma, baby see!"

"Yes, Helen, I see the baby," I replied, thinking that she meant herself. That was a reasonable guess, since she usually refers to herself as baby and in fact have only heard her use the name "Helen" once. However, today, she clearly indicated that I was wrong.

"No, Momma. Baby PU!

Well, that seemed more serious, since PU (as in Pee-You) is how she communicates a stinky diaper. I checked, and she was clean.

"Momma, c'mon!" Out went her little hand, fingers wagging behind, in her favorite gesture and phrase.

I followed her up the stairs, to the bathroom. There, on the floor, she was in mid-operation. She had her favorite baby doll (Baby Diana, so named by Maggie years earlier, who is nearly as big as Helen is now) on the floor. The open box of wet wipes was next to them. Helen was vigorously wiping the "PU" from the baby doll. I was very glad that this PU belonged only to a doll, since the same wet wipe then proceeded to be used to wipe the floor, the wall, the bathtub, and everything in between. Helen is a very enthusiastic house cleaner once turned loose.

Later this afternoon, I tried to get Helen to put a bib on. I prefer that for any time that she is eating, but it seemed particularly appropriate since she was now eating somewhat runny yogurt. Helen, however, has recently decided that she is not interested in wearing bibs. The one we have with the best coverage unfortunately closes with velcro, which means it is as good as useless now. Helen rips it off immediately.

This day, though, I struck upon a winning solution. I suspected that she was starting to reject a bib because it seemed too baby-ish to her. I was wearing an apron, so I decided to try that with her. We have several very small kids' aprons in the cupboard, so I tried one out. She rejected the first, so I doubted my idea, but tried just one more. Wow! When she saw the yellow apron with the red and blue flowers, she held both of her arms straight out in front of her and waited to be dressed. Then, she sat looking at her lap, amazed. She kept muttering a word to herself, and later to me, that might have been "See!" or might have been "Pretty!" When I stopped replying to this word, she climbed down off her chair, spread the apron out in front of her, and repeated her word so that I would notice.

Umm, really Helen? A fashionista before two? Sorry, kiddo, you ended up in the wrong family for that. But, I guess we can try to find her a few "pretty" things if it matter that much. :)

Helen's wake-up antics

We have said before that Helen is a smart little bugger. At 20 months, her language is perhaps not as far developed as some of the other kids' was. Still, she clearly understands a situation, and manages to communicate her needs. When it is time to nurse, she points imperiously at the recliner and shouts, " 'ide!" (This is her shorthand for "side," as in "other side," which is her name for nursing.) If I don't respond quickly enough, she takes me by the hand and drags me to the chair. If I don't sit down fast enough, she picks up the blanket and pillow and shoves me down with them. Today, we even heard a new full sentence from her: "Mama, please sit down." Apparently manners are formed at the point of greatest need (a snuggle and milk).

This morning, she tried something new and interesting upon waking. I had already left the bed and been up getting ready for work. When she woke to find me gone, she began to cry, then slid out of bed and started towards the door to look for me. At the door, she apparently reassessed the situation. She stopped crying, turned back into the bedroom, arm extended and fingers waggling in her signature way as she said brightly, "Daddy, c'mon!" She repeated this several times, trying to extract Jeremy from the bed. Then, mission accomplished, she continued out of the room to find me. At this point she pointed back towards the bed and implored, " 'ide!"

In other words, "Mom, I have succeeded in clearing the riff-raff out of our bed. Now please come back to bed with me and nurse me."

I am the MOM

I remember when I first became aware of the differences between boys and girls. It was about third grade, and at school we were watching "Free to Be ... You and Me," Marlo Thomas's 1970s ode to gender-neutral parenting. I came home eager to tell my family, "Girls can do anything as well as boys." (In that era of nascent women's rights, things were still very much benchmarked against the male experience as the standard to be achieved. I much prefer the subtler direction of today's movement, which comes closer to "both boys and girls can do what they prefer.")

My father, ever the grinning devil's advocate, challenged my claims to equality. (He has always been my strongest champion for equal opportunity, but he loved to provoke us.)  We argued back and forth about the equivalent worth of the sexes.

"Name one thing that a boy can do better than a girl," I taunted.

It was my ever-logical older brother who cut the bantering short. "Sure. Going into the boys' bathroom."

I gave up in frustration, feeling that my nascent sense of equality was not being taken seriously by my family. To be honest, though, I wasn't entirely sure that I wanted to continue the discussion, because I was harboring a secret. I distinctly remember, even at that age, recognizing that I did NOT believe in the equality of the sexes. In fact, I felt a profound pity for all males. I frequently offered up a silent prayer of thanksgiving that I had been born a girl, because only girls could carry a baby in their womb, nurse an infant, and be a mom. Even before I entered my second decade, I desperately longed to become not a parent, but a mother.

And so it is this reality that I try to recall on the difficult days. The times when bedtime, which could involve two loving parents, seems to be all about four needy children clamoring only for Mom, all at the same time. The times when I am supposed to be home but not home, closeted away to work, and the kids will walk past Dad to come ask me for things. The times when my husband, who is truly a caring, involved parent beyond what most men even strive for today, seems unaware of and even uninterested in some basic issue related to the kids - what they are struggling with in school; whether they have clothes that fit; who feels lonely and needs more attention or just a play date.

"Why won't he look at things the way I do and act more concerned?" I moan to myself. Why? Because he is the dad, that's why. And every day, I thank God that I am the Mom. For all the good and the bad that that entails.

Perspective

John was complaining at dinner tonight about how James doesn't play fairly with him. "James made me run into the wall!"

"Well, that doesn't sound very nice. What happened?"

"I was trying to buck him and he moved out of the way!"

Helen's speech makes a leap - UPDATED

Just this week, Helen started talking in earnest using sentences. It has been fun to hear. Her vocabulary has really exploded in the last month. If we stop to decipher, we find that she is saying about any word that she wants to. But now she is putting three or four of those words together on a regular basis. She still prefers to point and pull, generally, but there are too many demands and stories obviously waiting to bubble out of her for that to last long.

This week we heard:

Daddy sit down book ("Read to me now")
Mom(pp) - chair side ("Sit in this chair and nurse me" - "side" means nurse, as in "other side"; the "pp" at the end of Mom is a persistent but cute mystery to us)

Of course, she can still be direct when needed. Her current favorite book is Miss Mary Mack. When she wants that read to her, she just whacks me solidly with the book and yells "Mack!"

Helen at 20 months

 She keeps adding words and phrases! Today (10-9-12), clear as bell, she said (to the direction of John and Maggie after they left the car for gymnastics classes), "Bye-bye! See you soon!"

When we pull into the long drive for the kids' school, we go past the playground, where she begins pointing and shouting, "Big slide! Please, slide?" Then, once past the mecca of fun, the chanting turns to, "John? James? Maggie?" Or, actually, it sounds like, "Don! Dame! Mawma!" For herself, she prefers the enthusiastic (but not exclusive) use of the name, "Baby!"

After falling off the stool today and banging her head (a regular occurrence, particularly around naptime), she began crying quite clearly for "Da-yee!" First time I have noticed her specifically scorning me and wanting Daddy to hug away the hurts. I guess she is really enjoying their mornings home together this semester. For which I am very glad.

The Athlete

After a 4-month hiatus, I started Maggie and John in gymnastics classes again this month. We like our local gym - it is 5 minutes away, and unlike most gyms, it is all about fitness and fun since they don't have any training for competitive gymnastics. (The professionalizing of kids' sports over the past generation is a personal beef of mine.) Maggie has taken classes there once a week for a few years, and we had John enrolled in their preschool program for two years (a little art time, some letters and numbers, lots of time in the gym).

Both kids have been begging to go back ever since we stopped in May. I finally felt that I had the fall schedule figured out enough that I could manage this additional activity, so I signed them up to start today. At the door, we were met by the assistant manager, "Mr. Chad," who helped us find the right instructors. Maggie went to Girls Level B with Kaitlyn.

"John," asked Chad, "You are in kindergarten, right?" (Chad remembered him as a recent preschool graduate.)I explained, a bit nervously, that he was in kindergarten, but that I had signed him up for the Boys Level A, which is for first grade and up. "His preschool teachers told me last spring that he should be okay to skip into Level A. If it becomes a problem, just let me know." Chad agreed to let John try it and escorted him over to "Mr. Nick." I felt a bit more nervous about my decision to promote John as I saw that he was at least a head shorter than all the other boys in his class.

When I picked John up, he was clearly excited to be back in the gym. He ran up to tell me about how he ran up the wall. (The gym has a large mat standing against a wall. It is wedge shaped, so about 1-2 feet deep at the bottom and maybe 6 inches deep at the top. It stands against the wall to a height of maybe 10-12 feet, creating an inclined plane, nearly vertical. Mom, remember how I could run up the mat on the wall about halfway in preschool? I got all the way up and touched the top today!" It was nearly as disappointing to me as to John that I had to stop him from going back into the gym to demonstrate this feat - I will have to stay next week and watch. (The next hour's classes were already using the gym by this point today, unfortunately.)

I got the extended report from the kids at dinner. When I asked John how he liked class with Mr. Nick, John was nonchalant. "It was good. But he does get mad when people don't follow his instructions and listen." Hmm. That wasn't you, was it John? "Umm, no. Well, maybe once or twice." Okay, now I was a bit worried that I might be having to demote John to a kindergarten class. Fortunately, Margaret's report eased my mind quite a bit. "Mr. Nick came over during class and was talking to Miss Kaitlyn. He said, 'Is that kid really only five?! He is awesome at gymnastics!" So, perhaps Mr. Nick will let him stay, after all.

Helen keeps learning words

Helen's speech seems to have just exploded in the last month. (She is 18 months old.) I can't really list all her words any more, because every time I turn around, she is using a new one. Some are clear, and some are not, but there is no stopping her now. Some of my favorites:

"Do-do-do" (Oh, how to capture the sound of that one in writing? Imagine the sound you would make if you were leaning casually against the wall, whistling idly, killing time. Strong emphasis on first syllable.) This one is especially fun because it means, "I want to nurse now." I have no idea why. She used it throughout July and August.

'Ide. This is how Helen now says, "I want to nurse now." It is clearly short for me saying to her "other side," but she doesn't seem to associate any sided-ness with the term - only milk.

John.

Shoes. Socks. Book. Ball. Bike. Mama. Dada. James.

The little things

It is odd to me how what we need most in our lives seems to be those things that we don't even realize we are missing until we get them. Then, suddenly, we wonder how we ever lived without them.

Uncle Jim talks about his hearing aids in this way. He says he was perfectly content, and had no idea why people would tell him to get help. He tried it anyway, and was stunned to discover what had been around him all along that he had been missing (including the squeaky floorboard in the hallway, which Aunt Nancy said was not news to her).

I can recall getting a phone call, out of the blue, from a far-away friend. Next thing I knew, it was two hours later and my jaw ached from smiling so much. The day had seemed fine before the call, but after, I wondered how I could have survived without it. Then there was the summer I was living alone for the first time. I was excited to be in a new state, working a new job, and feeling truly independent. But it was lonely. I didn't know anyone in town, so my interactions with people were through work (kept "New England" cool, with people I barely knew), or an incidental exchange with a clerk at the Ben & Jerry's (where I did most of my grocery shopping). Then one weekend, I drove down to visit my dad's cousin Steve and his family, about 45 minutes away. I didn't really know them, but they graciously welcomed me. When I left, Steve's wife Kathy gave me a hug, and suddenly tears were rolling down my cheeks. I hadn't felt sad when I went to visit, but the feel of Kathy's friendly arms around me brought me up short with the realization that it was the first human touch I could remember in weeks. Instantly I realized that I had been desperately needing just that.


Tonight I found something else I can't believe I have been living without - the sound of eager excitement from my son about school. Don't misunderstand me; James has always been happy enough to go to school, and seems to like it. When I have suggested a switch to a different school, he has been as adamant as Maggie (the social butterfly) that he likes where he is. He has never been one to want to invent reasons to stay home sick, and I can see his quiet pride as he works on larger-scale project assignments. But at the same time, he has always been a bit reserved about school. He got past the bullying of early elementary (thankfully!), but still, he has never really had a friend in school. So, school has always been important to James, but not necessarily fun.

James qualified for a county-wide pull-out program for middle school students, to complete an accelerated high school Language Arts curriculum over 3 years. Lest you think I am pushing my kid to grow up too fast, I assure you that James has been the force behind making this program happen for us, ever since he learned of it. He agreed to take the ACT (for qualifying scores), even though it meant spending his first day out of 5th grade (and his birthday, to boot) filling out bubbles for 4 hours. He didn't even flinch when I told him I would have to bring him home from summer camp for 3 hours to complete further testing for the program. And tonight, when there was the first mandatory orientation meeting ("missing this meeting may jeopardize your enrollment"), he completely usurped my role of chief worrier. On the car ride there, I heard, "Mom, do you know exactly where this meeting is? Mom, are you sure you weren't supposed to turn there? Really, I think we went too far. Are we going to be late?" (I didn't, but I wasn't and we didn't and we weren't.)

After spending 2 hours learning more about his class for the coming year, James was actually giddy. I am not sure if his feet touched the ground walking to the car. He should have gone to bed immediately (it was 9:30 when we got home) but he was far too wound up. He went straight to the computer to complete his first "homework assignment," which was simply to figure out how to log into and use the course online wiki. Soon, he was exchanging messages with a girl in the class about her extensive aquarium  collection. He didn't even try to hide his silly grin.

And that was when I knew. Every late night I spent scrambling to arrange his application and registration materials. Every penny we spend on tuition. Every hour I spend driving him back and forth to class. Every tear he will shed as an assignment stumps him for the first time. It will all be worth it, because now I realize we have what we were missing: James is alive with the pure joy of learning, and getting to do it with others who want to learn as much as he does. Amen.

Fortunately, Unfortunately...

In elementary school, we sometimes wrote "Fortunately, Unfortunately" books. Oddly enough, I felt one of these narrating itself inside my head the other day. Now if only I had artistic skills to illustrate what is in my head...

James finished up a week of day camp at Calvin, where he learned to program in "Scratch" (check it out here) to write a simple computer game.

Fortunately, on the last day, all the kids in the camp had 5 minutes to present their games to the class and family members. Unfortunately, I had to take all the young family members (Maggie, John, and Helen).

Fortunately, the screening was on-campus so Jeremy could stop by just for James's presentation. Unfortunately, he had to leave right afterwards, so I still had 3 kids to keep still and quiet in the one fancy movie theater on campus while 20 middle school boys each gave a spiel.

Fortunately, only Helen shrieked and made noise while we waited for James's presentation. Unfortunately, Maggie was enjoying the show and wanted to stay afterwards so then John got antsy.

Fortunately, there were computer kiosks in the lobby just outside the theater, which interested John for entertainment purposes. Unfortunately, the internet connection to the Lego web site was inadequate for him to play a game as he wished.

Fortunately, he decided to entertain himself with a trip to the restroom instead. Unfortunately, he decided to go alone while my back was turned chasing Helen.

Fortunately, the restrooms were very close and I heard him calling my name from inside. Unfortunately, I couldn't find him even though I could hear him.

Fortunately, I did eventually figure out where he was. Unfortunately, he was in the Men's room and asking for help with wiping.

Fortunately, there was nobody else in the men's room right then. Unfortunately, the elderly man coming in as I came out looked very confused and disturbed.

Fortunately, while I was helping John to wipe, Helen stayed out of the stalls and thus avoided splashing in toilets as she loves to do. Unfortunately, I didn't know that urinals also have water in the bottom and should be blocked from her access.

Fortunately, she didn't appear to get water on any of herself except for her hands. Unfortunately, I discovered her hands were wet when she flicked the water all over my legs.

Fortunately, by the time I got her and myself cleaned up, Maggie was bored and willing to leave. Unfortunately, we still had to get all three kids to walk out of the building, across the pedestrian bridge, and halfway across campus, then get on the bikes and ride home.

Fortunately, I had Maggie with me to carry the diaper bag and James's backpack that I somehow ended up with. Unfortunately, Maggie somehow managed to pass to me, without my noticing how, both bags, in addition to Helen, whom I was already carrying.

Fortunately, Maggie stayed with John. Unfortunately, they were both too far ahead of me to hear me telling them to stop and wait for struggling me.

Fortunately, Maggie waited for me where she got on her bike. Unfortunately, John did not.

Fortunately, John was just over the next hill, waiting on the campus lawn. Unfortunately, he was also terrorizing pedestrians with his bike.

Fortunately, we had nowhere else to be that afternoon, and we eventually all made it home.  The End.

Helen is talking more

It seems that Helen's speech has just exploded in the last few weeks. Perhaps she was just ready. Perhaps it was the week away from the older siblings, with just Mom and Grandpa to cater to her. Whatever the reason, she has new words every day.

I have now heard quite distinctly, at one time or another:

Mom
Mammah (for Margaret, I assume, since she was hugging her enthusiastically at the time)
Dada (for Dad)
Baby (for her doll)
Pease (for please)
Up
Down
Up-py! (Not sure if it is "pick me up" or "happy" but it seems to be a joyful noise)
Ball
No

She still has some old favorites, like:
woof (dog)
shoe

Though she also seems to have dropped a few, like:
highchair

Of course, the real difference is that she now talks in paragraphs. We can't understand a single word, usually, but she opens her mouth and just starts making sounds. While we don't recognize words, she does have all the expression (both verbal and facial) and tone as if she were holding a conversation with us. She gestures and talks with her hands at the same time as the babbling, and can really go on and on. So, I think when she decides to talk, she might have a lot to say.

Little Imitators - Vol. 1 (John Reading)

Children truly are incredible imitators. Helen is proving to be the queen of all imitators, but I will save that for a different post. Today is reserved for John and reading.

The older kids have been reading quite a bit this summer. Margaret, in particular, can't be separated from a book. She came home from Grandma's and Grandpa's house last week stuck on the Harry Potter books (again). She is not only reading them, but reading them competitively. Last summer she had read the first and part of the second in that series. Perhaps inspired by her cousin Rebekah who was reading them last week, she started up again where she had left off. I have been getting regular progress updates.

"Mom, I finished another chapter."
"Mom, I have read 124 pages since breakfast."
"Mom, I have finished the second and third books already."

All of this has not been missed by John. John has been on the brink of reading for a number of months now. Through two years of preschool, he has learned all his letters and letter sounds. He is interested in stories, of course. And with James and Margaret absorbed in their own books, he desperately wants to figure out how to read to himself, as well. So yesterday and today, he took matters into his own hands.

"Mom, I am reading the first Harry Potter book!"

"You are?"

"Yes! And I have already read this much," he exclaimed, holding up a chunk of pages from the book.

Maggie was not anxious to let this bald-faced lie go unchallenged. "What just happened in the book, then John?" Undaunted, John gave a detailed report of the antics of Harry and Hagrid and a monster. (He apparently watched the movie at Grandma's house last week and could piece together some of the story to report.)

John's reading grew more and more flamboyant throughout the day.

"Mom, I just read 20 pages."
"Mom, I just read 100 pages."
"Mom, I just finished the first Harry Potter book. Will you please get the second one for me?"
"Wow, this book is really interesting. It just keeps getting interesting-er and more interesting-er."
"Mom, I finished the second book!" (Gleeful giggle.)

Finally, I asked John if he would like to actually start learning to read. "YES!"

Jeremy had actually picked up several second-hand, teach-your-child-to-read books some time earlier. I dug one out and worked through the first lesson. Unfortunately, this book/method insists on working through the lessons in order, and assumes starting with a student completely unfamiliar with the alphabet. John zoomed excitedly through Lesson 1, which involved recognizing and pronouncing the sound of letters "m" and "s."

Except, for the very last part of Lesson 1. This was a writing exercise. The student is not expected to work on penmanship, but rather practice writing letters as a way of practicing to recognize them. I was to show John how to properly draw the two letters, then have him copy my letters, then have him practice on his own. John could copy fine, but got upset when trying to write them on his own. As he added extra humps to the "m," he got flustered. As I tried to help him bring a line all the way to the bottom, he got bumped and collapsed into tears over his ruined "m." I decided that he was too tired and we would call it quits on the writing portion of the lesson. John, however, would not hear of it. He was done writing letter "m" and letter "s," certainly. But, he announced that he would instead use the paper to write a story. Since this is the first time (to my knowledge) that he wanted to write a story, I thought I would preserve it for posterity. I will also provide some translation assistance.

At the top of the page are John's attempts to copy my first "m." Then, you see his story. He made up the whole story, and had no help in "writing" it, other than occasionally asking how to spell a word. In those cases, I told him to sound it out and write what he heard.

What John largely wrote is a first letter for each word, though occasionally he added extra letters for middle or ending sounds. There is of course no observation of word or line breaks. John's story, then, reads:

Daddy is working for Mommy because he is taking Mom out to a show.

I kinda like the kid's style. Are you listening, Daddy?

James at Eleven

Sometimes he seems so grown-up...

But I am glad he is still a kid, too!

James turned 11 last month. It is still hard for me to believe, sometimes. I was looking back over my blog and realizing that I mostly post about the youngest kids. After all, they are changing so quickly. Also, young kids tend to do the most surprising things, that seem notable or cute for posterity.  But I recognize that the older kids are pretty amazing, too. Just because the changes come more slowly doesn't mean that I shouldn't take note, now and then.

Grown-up enough to light his own candles

It is really nice having an 11-year-old in the family. James can get himself to and from swim practice on his bike. He can also pick up and bring John home from swimming, when necessary. He can take Helen for a walk around the block in the stroller. He is interested in cooking and inventing his own recipes based on things we have cooked as a family. He likes to run errands that give him some independence, like biking up to the grocery store for an item or two for dinner. He is usually generous with his siblings and likes to do nice things for them, like when he asked to bike them up to the grocery store with him so that he could buy them each a doughnut. (If you are reading the blog regularly, you might start to notice that despite all my intentions of keeping the family eating healthy foods, we are all beholden to doughnuts.) He also is reasonably willing to entertain John. James prefers to do this with a computer game, but he can be swayed. I asked him today to kick a soccer ball with John and he hopped right up to do it - even helped John find his shoes.

John and James on the computer together

James is poised, sometimes precariously, between childhood and youth, it seems. In a very grown-up moment, he asked me if he could learn algebra this summer. (This seemed to be prompted by his taking the ACT and discovering it was full of math that he hadn't learned yet - he also has a bit of a competitive edge, though he tries to keep it hidden.) Of course, he is still a kid, too. He hasn't actually opened the algebra book that I borrowed for him from the library - the call of the computer games is too loud. His TV viewing shows a similar contrast. (Our only TV content is what is available via live streaming over the Wii right now, which does create for an odd selection, I suppose.) One moment he is watching cartoons with John; the next he is arguing with the other kids because he wants to watch another NOVA episode. ("Mom, I was right in the middle of How to Make Stuff Stronger and John keeps switching the show.")

One sure sign James is growing up...he got books and bike gear instead of legos for his birthday.

But, James still knows the value of a new squirt gun.

John is now five

After a week away from the three older kids, it was nice to tuck them into bed last night. John, who turned five while we were apart, gave me a big, upside-down smile (because he was laying with his head hanging off the top bunk) and said, "I have a surprise for you, tomorrow."

"Oh, that's nice."

"Do you want to know what it is?"

"Sure!"

"A four-year-old hug."

"Really? But you are five, now, aren't you?" (Before I left on my trip, I had asked for a great, big 4-year old hug from him because I wouldn't be able to get any more; he would be 5 when I saw him next.)

"Yup, I'm five. But I saved up dozens of 4-year-old hugs, too, just for you."

Yup, five will be nice, too, John.

Pure John

Here is the essence of John, as displayed at soccer and gymnastics this spring.

Hey, did you know that my dad is my coach?