William's First Day of Kindergarten

time for some learning, yo.

William was nervous this morning. It wasn't a surprise -- William is sort of a little anxiety-prone? -- but it did mean I spent a lot of time in the last two days having conversations like this:

William: Mom, how will I get to my classroom? I don't remember where it is!

me: When you get off the bus at school there will be people who take you to your classroom.

William: Who will it be?

me: Someone who works at the school.

William: But who? What will the name be?

me: I don't know. But don't worry, someone will be there to help you.

William: BUT WHO?

me: William, I don't know whose job it will be. BUT. There will be people. Right when you get off your bus. And they will take you to your classroom.

William: What if they lose me?

me: They're not going to lose you.

William: But what if they do? What if they don't know I need help?

me: Then tell them and they will help you.

William: BUT I DON'T KNOW WHO IT IS AND WHAT IF THEY LOSE ME?


 We have gone over the procedure exhaustively, and I have assured William (MANY TIMES) that there will be plenty of help along the way. He's excited, but my literal-minded and precise William does not like to feel so out of control.

star wars backpack!

We walked to the bus stop together, holding hands the whole way. There was already a crowd of kids there (most older), and when we stopped one of William's friends came up to him. "Hey, that's right!" she said, "Today is your first day of kindergarten! Are you excited?"
"I think, maybe, a little nervous?" he replied.
"It's going to be great. You're going to love it."
When the bus pulled up a minute later she ran to jump on, but stopped and turned around. "I'll save you a seat on the bus, William. You can sit by me."
So William hopped onto the bus (knowing where to sit on the bus was one of his many (MANY) concerns) (his mind couldn't seem to wrap around the idea that you can sit wherever you want (THE CHAOS!)) and sat beside his friend in the front and waved excitedly to me as the bus pulled away.

And all of a sudden I got so nervous. Seriously, WHAT IF THEY LOSE HIM?
As we walked home from the bus stop, I said to Ivy, "Ivy, I'm feeling a little nervous!"
 and she took my hand and said, "Mom! Don't be nervous. William is going to love kindergarten."

She's right. But I might wait by the phone today, anyway.

A couple of stories about Michael and Easter and also a few pictures of our easter egg hunt

So, do kids really believe in the Easter bunny? Is that actually a thing? Because I was under the impression that it was a fun story but nobody really perpetuated it as truth. And that's why I took my kids with me to buy candy for our easter egg hunt. We were standing in line at Target, our basket full of plastic eggs and treats, other Moms eyeing me discreetly, and Michael asked why I was buying so much chocolate. So I told him, "It's the Easter bunny chocolate."
He looked at my sideways, then shook his head and said, "Mom, the Easter bunny brings his own chocolate."
It took me by suprise, but it was loud and crowded and I decided to let it go.
Then on Sunday morning while I was brushing my hair for church he asked when the Easter Bunny was coming.
"Michael, we did our easter eggs yesterday, remember? With cousins?"
"Yeah, but that was you. When is the Easter bunny coming?"
"I am the Easter bunny. The Easter bunny is just pretend, just for fun. Parents are the Easter bunny. " I glanced out of the bathroom to see Michael and William and Ivy and Christofer all staring at me. "...I thought you knew that."
"Okay," he said.
Christofer stared at me meaningfully.
"Uh, does that make you sad?" I asked. "Is it alright?"
"It's fine." He shrugged. Then he went downstairs to wait for us while William and Ivy and Christofer and I finished getting ready.


Picture interlude! On Saturday I hosted a big Easter egg hunt for the kids and cousins. We hid plastic eggs in the back yard, then the big kids had a treasure hunt inside the house to find the big treats. (I might have gone overboard with the clues, there ended up being around 45.)

On Sunday nights we have Family Home Evening after dinner. We say a prayer, sing some songs, have a little lesson, then usually eat a treat or play a game. While we were cleaning dinner up, Michael got out his notebook and a pencil and told us he was writing a talk for our Family Home Evening lesson. It took him about five minutes. This is the talk he wrote (with some spelling corrections; everything else exactly as he wrote and read it):

I am having a talk about Easter. Easter is very important. We celebrate
Easter because Jesus was resurrected and because he died on the cross.
Easter is not about hiding Easter Eggs. It is not about the Easter bunny. It
is about Jesus. I have a testimony that Jesus died for us. In the name of
Jesus Christ, Amen.

William turned 5, even though I told him not to

William had a hard time narrowing a guest-list for his fifth-birthday party, but I finally talked him down to 20 kids or so:


You can imagine how many he wanted. I was feeling awfully tired and harried at the time, and I wouldn't have done a party at all, but, honestly, this kid deserved a party. This funny, stubborn, compulsive, crazy, thoughtful, willful, difficult, lovely boy deserved a BIG party.

This is the face William makes when people are looking at him:



He wanted a chocolate cake with balloons on it. (Okay, actually he wanted a chocolate cake in the shape of a pirate ship, but HELL no.) ( Listen, I am willing to throw a party for twenty kids, but I draw the line at spending weeks of my life in the kitchen cursing and crying and trying to figure out how to bake a cake in the shape of a boat, I HAVE THINGS TO DO.) (also, does all that work make the cake more delicious? No, it does not.) (He loved his balloon cake.)

He blew out the candles:



I mean, he tried to blow out the candles:



and Christofer responded really inappropriately; there was just no need to flip off the children.


Finally he got it.



and there was much cheering and rejoicing and cake eating. Seriously, there was a ton of cake eating. I gave those kids huge pieces. Their parents all love me, I'm sure.

William opening his presents, surrounded by friends:


I'm always telling William I'm going to shrink him back to four, because I can't stand for him to get any older. That's not really true. As much as I'll miss the sweet and wild William he's been, I love the grown-up, independent, smart William he's becoming.

So. Don't grow up too fast, William, but truthfully I can't wait to see what comes next.

swim lessons

Ivy and William just finished swim lessons for November. Winter swim lessons are the best.

Ivy practicing floating with a life jacket.

William learning to float. (William is great at everything else, but cannot float. It's kind of hilarious. When he flips onto his back he goes rigid and sinks. I think he is very brave because he keeps trying, despite all the water up his nose.)

visitor

This is my sister with my nephew (looking good, guys):

They're visiting from Michigan and came to spend yesterday afternoon with us.

It mostly consisted of her patiently helping me deal with children/housework/homework/church stuff/dinner. I am not an easy person to visit. You should know this in advance.

It was still really wonderful. I love my sister.

good times.

IN RELATED NEWS:

well, hello Daniel:

and in other (non-related) news:

These two will not stop bickering and fighting today so let's take a moment and remember they are not all bad OR ARE THEY:

eh, they're pretty cute, I guess. Maybe I'll let them out of timeout after all.

reader

(These are old pictures. I took them at the beginning of September and forgot they were on my camera.)
(Before we get started, how cute is Charles?)

William has been learning to read. He loves it. He especially loves to read to Charles, because, he tells me, Charles is his favorite, he loves Charles more than he loves the rest of us. That's a direct quote, by the way.


I told him it was okay to love everyone the same. He said, Okay, I love my whole family the most. But maybe I love you guys half as much as Charles?

I can live with that, I guess.

this is halloween (halloween, halloween)

(We're going to pretend like I didn't disappear for two months, and just get back to business, okay? okay.)

the fourth

(pre)School's out for summer

Preschool ended last week with Graduation, and since I believe we discussed last time how I feel about calling the end of preschool "graduation," we'll move ahead to where I talk about what a great job William did.


After a bumpy arrival William marched up with his class and sat on his seat and performed the entire program beautifully.


He sang the songs, and did the actions.


"If all the raindrops were lemondrops and gumdrops:"






































(such a William face, here:)







































William's teachers loved him. (We were late one morning and I told Miss Heather it was because he pitched a tantrum. She was incredulous. "I can't imagine him having a temper at all," said she, "he is so sweet and polite all the time!" )



Truthfully, William is so sweet and so polite. This year he has been brave and smart and kind. I am proud of everything he is doing (except for getting long and turning into a kid, that kind of breaks my heart).








































Good work, bubbs.



I couldn't possibly love you more.