Recovery

We're getting better, slowly slowly. I didn't realize how much I missed my easy-going baby until his smiles started coming back and he did not needed to be held and comforted non-stop. Having said that, yesterday was a trip to the needy farm and I accomplished nothing more than a one-item trip to Costco, so let's hope everyone continues to recover here.

As I write this, I can look over at my bed and see one sleeping husband, one awake and smiling baby, and one mostly-awake preschooler who is gently patting the baby on his belly, saying, "Baby drum, baby drum, baby drum." And now he's touching his feet to L's.

It's funny how tuned in the boys are to each other, even at this age. They communicate on some level C and I are excluded from. L has huge smiles that he bestows on A and sometimes just wants to stare at A until A looks back at him. A has been super-sweet to L and spends his time trying to get L to laugh at him. Yesterday I asked A if he was going to help teach L how to crawl. He said, "Not until I'm four, Mommy; he's too little."

Tour guide

A knows most of the animals in the zoo. He knows what they are and what the little placard says and anything else we've talked about. So now when we go to the zoo, he plays tour guide.

Example: Yesterday we were walking through Elephant Odyssey's bug section when someone said, "What is that?" And A stopped to say:

Those are diving beetles. They swim down, down, down here to get some food and then they swim up and get air. Then they swim down to get food, and up to get air, and down, and up.

[This is all him narrating while pointing at a particular beetle who was kindly illustrating his points.]

Preschool! Chocolate milk!

Wow, he's at preschool now every day.

He's in the afternoon sessions, which I don't like but apparently nobody does and the new people get stuck with afternoon classes. Yesterday he took a nap after school; this morning, he conked out two hours before school. I'm not sure how this nap pattern is going to pan out.

First day, we're there early with the other early birds. The kids run around and play on the grass; the parents chit-chat about how old the kids are and how many we have. The ages in class range from three to four, with A being one of the youngest.

Time for class comes, we all sign in our kids, off they go. One or two are crying, some walk hand-in-hand with their parents, but A runs right in without a backwards glance at me.

The parents all wander in and stand around snapping pictures while the teacher calls the class to order, has them sit on the floor around her. She goes through attendance and my motherly heart swells with pride as A is one of only two kids in this class of twenty-four who knows to raise his hand and say, "Me!" when his name is called.

After roll call, the teacher says it's time for us parents to go, and as I'm wandering out, he turns and waves at me with a big smile and says, "Bye, Mommy!" Then he blows me kisses.

It was too much for my little pregnancy-hormone-drenched heart to bear. I made it to the car before I teared up.

Anyway, the first day, he did great although he had some bathroom accidents, probably because he was just too darned excited to excuse himself to use the facilities. They get free lunch (who knew?) and all he would tell me he ate was two Pooh cookies and chocolate milk. (Damn you, school district and your chocolate milk; we were keeping him away from chocolate milk's addictive pull.)

Today we got to school and he played with the early-birds again and then gave everyone big hugs. Oh my, he's sweet. When I picked him up, he was accident-free (hurray) and cried when I said it was time to go home. The teacher reassured him that he'd be right back tomorrow.

And today's lunch? A Nemo cupcake and chocolate milk. (It was someone's birthday today, hence the cupcake.) I need to get a copy of that lunch menu.

In awkward conversation news, I called his previous preschool and explained:

• We found out last minute he'd been accepted by the school district when we thought he'd been rejected,
  
• he would be receiving speech therapy through the school,
  
• and unfortunately, it was just easier to send him to the school district's preschool.
  

I did not reiterate that the school district's preschool is free, which has amazing appeal, or that since he's in at three he'll probably be in at four. No, I said that we had no qualms about the school or the teachers and everyone was wonderful and I hated to do it. And she was fine and cheerful so that's all well. So I've officially given notice and just need to go by and pick up his stuff.

The school district speech teacher and I are playing phone tag to get A set up for speech, so that should be coming along soon. Then we'll have to have tearful goodbyes with his speech therapist. Sigh.

Carrots

A's really into carrots recently. Raw, cold peeled carrots. He'll eat them instead of apples, which is the fruit of choice around here.

Today we hit our local farmers' market. We asked A if he wanted to get anything (as we ask each other, what do you want today?).

And A said, "Carrots." Of course.

Not peaches, nectarines, plums, tiny wonderful grapes, figs, avocados or cheese. Carrots.

When we finally found some carrots, C held A up so he could pick some out. And the guy gave A the carrots for free.

The boy is more right than he knows

Conversation over dinner:

Me: And what's your name?
A: A------.
Me: And what's my name?
A: Mommy.
Me: And what's Daddy's name?
A: Home.

Yes, A. That's what I call Daddy too.