More about James

James gets a lot of love at our house.  He has two parents who are no longer stressed out about anything a small child does, and he has three older siblings who adore him limitlessly.

Yep, James is really in a good spot in this family.  He loves giving hugs to everyone and has to make the rounds before each nap or night-time tuck-in (or when anyone leaves the house).  Hugs and kisses for all.  "Huggie!"  He will say with his arms wide open.  Everyone is thrilled to nestle right into those little arms and James glows under the attention.  

He loves to pretend to be various animals with Ashley, he loves to race cars with William (complete with many sound effects), and he loves to build with Everett.

He also loves to say, "Mommy hold you?" to me especially when I am making dinner (or sometimes, "Mommy help you?").  Once in a while I ask him to set the table, and he really does a pretty good job at putting everything where it needs to go.

 James is always the most excited of all the kids when Joel comes home from work.  

He loves to laugh, but he doesn't laugh for just anyone.  Sometimes he even asks to be tickled.

James also loves to wrestle.  He doesn't seem to notice that he is the smallest and least coordinated on our floor; he jumps right in with just as much enthusiasm.

He also still sucks his thumb and carries his moose around everywhere.  He has started calling it "Moosie."  Usually I refuse to let my children bring stuffed animals to the grocery store, especially large ones, but I have softened up on this to keep him happy.  James hates riding in the cart.  He would much rather help me push and gather ingredients.  He is pretty obedient and really does a good job but he is clumsy and slow and the sad truth is I usually am too harried to indulge him.  So into the cart he goes, moose in hand.

James loves to count and listen to stories.  He is also the most interested in music of any of my kids.  None of the rest of them liked to sing, but James does.  I often catch him plinking around on the piano, singing nonsense songs.  He loves listening to music.  He is always really relaxed during special musical numbers at church.

His favorite songs are Popcorn Popping and Once There Was A Snowman.  He sings them to himself throughout the day, sometimes.

One of James's other favorite things is to wear other people's clothes.  Here he is in Everett's shorts.

. . .And Everett's pants.

He got the whole ensemble on only to be overcome with frustration because the pants kept falling down.  "Mommy fix it!" he'd demand, but there was nothing I could do.  (I have a lot of pictures of him smiling on this post, but we do see these kinds of faces a lot as well.)  Mostly at times like this, he is immediately happier if we validate him by telling him how he is feeling and why, and then giving him a hug.

He also likes to wear William's underwear and anything else he can find.

(Like Ashley's sunglasses.)

His very favorite thing to wear is shoes.  Any time we have a guest, James makes a beeline to the front door to try on some new shoes.  In this picture he is wearing some church shoes of Ashley's.

(You may also notice James is not wearing pants.  He does love to strip his pants off at random times.)

These are the sparkly shoes of a visiting friend.  

Everett's slippers are not safe, either.

James is pretty good at walking in shoes that are too big for him, even Joel's work shoes or my high heels.  In fact, James loves my high heels.  He loves to clomp around in them, delightedly enjoying the major cacophony the heels make on our wood floor.

James also loves cereal.  He is always much happier when we walk Everett and Ashley to school if he can bring a bowl of cereal along.

James's favorite toys and shows are anything having to do with Thomas the Tank Engine or the Cars characters.  He also loves Kipper.  I often hear him giggle while he watches that show.  It has a soothing, hypnotic effect that I utilize regularly.

James was sick one day and was happy to camp out on the couch with Mater's Tall Tales (and his moose, of course).  He is big enough to work some games on the ipad alone, which is also nice.

He is talking more now.  I have been waiting for him to talk well enough to express what he wants.  He is such a determined little guy that he doesn't let go of what he wants even if no one can understand what he is trying to ask for.  

So now that he is two, he is talking well enough that we almost always understand what he wants.  For instance, he always wants milk in a specific cup with a lid, warmed in the microwave for a set amount of time.

He also loves to say No, like most two-year-olds.  In fact, he loves to say it so much that we've all started to banter back with him.  "Yes!" we'll say in reply.  "NO!"  James will yell back.  His No's get progressively growlier until he is yelling in a roar-growl, as deep a pitch as his little vocal chords can go.

I often hear him speak to William in this way when William just doesn't get what James wants to do during playtime.  James is so forceful with it that our sensitive William sometimes erupts into tears.

Even though James is talking well, he has some of the funny speech impediments that most kids his age have, such as fronting his sounds.  This means that School bus is "Boo Bus," which the other kids think is hilarious.  

We love to tease him by asking him about "Bomas" (Thomas the Tank Engine.)  Even though James pronounces it that way, he knows how it is supposed to sound and it frustrates him to no end when we say it incorrectly.  And then he begins with the growly No's, and our smiles split into fits of laughter.

One day he is going to complain that no one in this house ever takes him seriously, and I'll probably be forced to agree.  

We recently started James in a toddler bed.  He shares a room with Ashley.  It didn't take him long before he figured out that he could sneak into bed with her.  She was delighted the next morning when I told her what James had done.  

I also put James in time-out for the first time a couple of weeks ago.  He was in there for a very, very short amount of time.  When I opened the door I found James standing in the corner, glaring at me.

"It's time to come out," I told him.  

"No!  I not want to!"  He said back.  

"OK," I said, "You can come out when you are ready."  And I left him there with the door wide open.  I waited a short time and when James still didn't come out, I went in to get him myself, reasoning that he just didn't get how the whole time-out thing works yet.  Turns out, James did know what he wanted.  He protested forcefully when I carried him out, thrashing and flailing mightily.  "No!  Go back in!  I go back in!"  He shouted over and over.

I'm still not sure whether our first foray into time-out was a success or a failure.  Any disciplinary measures are tricky with this child.  Even if we were to, say, remove his favorite thing in the whole world (his moose) for a time until he said "sorry" for hitting, he would not budge.  There would be nothing we could do to get him to say sorry until he was good and ready, no matter how we tried to convince him.  And the more we tried to get him to say it, the less willing he would be.

Fortunately, he has been so little that this hasn't been a problem so far.  But I am interested to see how this will all go as he gets older.

James has learned a joke that he loves to tell (over, and over, and over).

"Knock, knock!"

"Who's there?"

"Stop crying little baby!"

Well, it's a good start to a joke anyway, right?

We love our spunky guy.  He is a lot of fun and a lot of sweetness all wrapped up into one clever little boy.  

James is Two!

Our sweet, cuddly, determined little James has turned two.  I can't believe it.  I feel like I was just at the hospital with his brand new 9 pound 4 ounce self.

We threw him a small birthday celebration, kicked off by our family tradition of balloons in the bedroom upon wake-up.

I couldn't figure out what James would like to eat for dinner.  Usually I let the kids choose, but James never eats more than one or two bites of any dinner.  So I took him to the store and let him direct me.  He picked out corn dogs and boxed mac and cheese.

I decided to just make the corn dogs.  I served oranges as a side--at least I knew he would eat those!  James would live on oranges, crackers, and milk if I let him.  Oh wait, he basically does.

We did have some juice as well for a special treat.

And then, cupcakes!

At the last minute, I decided to make James a little train engine.  It is very plain because I only had chocolate and pretzels to decorate it with, but it worked.  

James enjoyed blowing out the candles.  He knew exactly what to do and when.

And he had pleeeeenty of help eating.

Plenty of help.

At one point, James decided a birthday train is more fun to eat when each bite is accompanied by helicopter noises.

We are really grateful for our funny guy!  James loves to laugh, and he loves to have his way.  He keeps us on our toes, and every single person in this house as a bit of a soft spot for him.  

What is Everett like at age 7?

Everett is so many things.  I love this boy with all of my heart.  I loved him when as a baby he wouldn't let anyone else hold him and wanted to be fed All The Time, I loved him at age two and three when he had fifty tantrums a day, and I love him now.  I don't know anyone who has as much excitement for life as Everett does.

He is a feeler and a do-er.  Everett feels every emotion with conviction and intensity.  This means he is very empathetic and is great at recognizing others' needs.  He also feels frustration easily and strongly, but I have been amazed at the ability he has already developed to control those powerful emotions in a productive way.  His loyalty and love for me means that he is generally always willing to do whatever I ask him to without complaint.  I really do not think I could run this house without him.

A few days ago, Everett saw me sit down rather heavily.  This pregnancy has been filled with aches and pains, and though I'm careful to not worry the kids with my complaints, Everett must have seen the pain on my face.  He sat right next to me, put his arm around me, and said simply, "I know it's hard to carry a big baby around all day."

He loves to make people laugh.  When the missionaries from our church come over for dinner, Everett has a very hard time controlling his desire to be extremely clown-ish for the duration of the evening.  Everett genuinely likes everyone he meets and does not understand how people can say rude things.  Once or twice Everett confessed to me in tears that a friend had said something hurtful to him.  I did my best to reassure him and offer some perspective.  Even though Everett is very teachable in those moments, he cannot wrap his mind around how someone could be intentionally or casually cruel to a classmate.

Everett also has a pure, unshakable conviction of the power of prayer.  He leans on prayer.  He always reminds me that he needs to say a prayer before he goes to sleep (because I would never remember if left to my own devices, unfortunately).  Everett loves to pray.  He usually prays for almost everyone he knows so sometimes his prayers are quite long.

For a long time, Everett complained about going to church.  I considered many different options, and kept him in my own prayers, but nothing really worked to help him feel more inclined to be more positive.  I think a lot of this had to do with the hours of sitting and the uncomfortable clothes (this is a boy who can't even stand wearing jeans).  Case in point: immediately after we park the car in the garage after church, Everett RUNS up to his room and tears his clothes off, then usually changes into pajamas.  One morning, Everett prayed that he would have a nice time at church.  I didn't think much of it until later that day when I realized that it had been the first Sunday in a long, long time that Everett had not complained.  When I pointed this out to Everett, he beamed.  He prayed for himself every week after that and has never had another problem.

What a simple solution to an issue I had been trying to solve in a more complicated way!



One time on the way home from school, Everett did something inappropriate (I can't remember what) so I confiscated his Ewok.  Everett was, understandably, upset by that and stewed the entire way home.  We all climbed out of the car and went inside and eventually Everett earned his Ewok back.  I thought that was all there was to the story until later that night when I was tucking Everett in bed.  He told me that when he was sitting in the car that afternoon, he had a feeling that he should look after James.  Everett jumped to it and saw that someone was in the middle of slamming the door shut right where James's hand was.  Everett reached out and stopped the door just in time, keeping James from having an injured hand.  "Mommy," Everett said soberly, "Even though I was feeling angry, I listened to the Holy Ghost and he helped me to save James's life today."  Everett would do anything for his little brother James.

Our nighttime conversations are precious.  These are the times when Everett is the most open with me.  We often spend quite a while talking about the things that are worrying him.  I just listen and reassure as much as possible but when I do give Everett some advice, he is always eager to listen.

On one such night, Everett confided in me, "Mommy, I just don't like William very much."  I smiled.  I understood the feeling.  William was just getting old enough to do many annoying things to an older brother.  Everett's eyes were glossed with shame, so with my arm around him, I reassured Everett that his feelings were normal, that everyone feels that way from time to time about their siblings, and that there is absolutely nothing wrong with him.  Then I told him some things from my childhood and we talked about how if he wants to build a stronger love for William, the best thing to do is to serve him.  Everett eagerly accepted this advice.  I have not reminded him to do nice things for William, but ever since that night, Everett has made a conscious, daily effort to involve William in his activities, serve him, and treat him with respect.  I still hear bickering, but they have become much closer.

Everett and Ashley have always been close.  Everett was less than two years old when she was born, so he has never remembered life without her.  One time a neighborhood friend said something that hurt Ashley's feelings.  When she crumpled into tears during dinner after telling us what had happened, Everett must have felt the need to make it better.  So early the next morning he walked next door with her and helped her to articulate that her feelings had been hurt and kindly requested that the friend please not say that again.  I did not know they did this until after it happened, but when I saw confidence in Ashley that hadn't been there before, I was less worried.

When we moved to our new city this summer, both kids had to make new friends at school.  Everett found a best friend very quickly.  Ashley likes to build friendships more slowly, and often was alone (though not necessarily lonely) at recess.  Everett noticed this and made sure that she could play with him and his friend each recess if it made her feel more comfortable.  Everett's sweet friend never complained, to my knowledge.

(Everett hates spelling.  Needless to say, I think we need to go over his middle name, which is Wayne.)

And, just for fun, this is what Everett's primary class said about him this year.  It's pretty accurate, I think!

Everett Turned 7!

 Our sweet Everett had a birthday a couple of weeks ago.  He had been looking forward to that day for a very, very long time.  Even the crossing guards at the elementary school knew it was his birthday.

Everett's teacher rewarded him for displaying leadership (or whatever else the qualifications are) by giving him the privilege of bringing a stuffed animal to school the day before his birthday.  He was ecstatic.  Of course he brought his Ewok.  And he had to wear his shirt that matched.

James wanted to get in on the picture.

So very exciting!

Everett wanted me to make a large cake with a realistic-looking redwood forest as a background and Han Solo, Leia, and Luke on speeders in the forefront.  He also wanted me to add some Ewoks for good measure.  

I declined.  But I did decide to make him something that had to do with Ewoks.  Because cutting out and frosting an Ewok out of cake sounded like a total nightmare, I made a big sugar cookie instead.  It was so, so, SO much easier.  I might have to always go this route from now on.

Everett wasn't disappointed that I didn't create the scene he originally had in mind.  He has way too much faith in my abilities.

Trick candles are always good for a laugh!

Everett got a few fun presents, like this beanbag chair.

We also gave him some Iowa Hawkeye apparel.  He is wearing the jersey here.  I don't know why he decided he is a Hawkeye fan, but he is adamant about it.  

Everett's grandparents, as usual, were extremely generous.  He was thrilled with every single gift they gave him.  

Everett wanted to have a birthday party.  He asked if we could do the same thing we did last year, and I thought that was a great idea.  Last year we invited a handful of friends to donate a used toy or two to a children's crisis shelter, and after we turned the toys in, we went to McDonald's.  Simple, but fun.  

Everett was so excited to get toys together.  He was on fire, man.  When I went down to our basement to check on him, he was almost jumping around with excitement.  "This is just making me feel so good and giving me so much energy!" he exclaimed.  

Everett even very lovingly guided his brother and sister into putting some of their toys in the box.  I did have to take out several things that we were still using, and yes, I felt a little bad about it.  I didn't want to dampen Everett's fire.  But he was happy about whatever I suggested and between what we chose and the two party guests brought, we filled a large box.  

We found a nice children's crisis shelter in Des Moines and trekked on over.  I had made prior arrangements for the drop-off, but when I asked the woman assisting us if she could talk to the kids a little bit about their shelter, she looked at me warily.  I wondered about that until she explained that often parents of unruly children come in as an attempt to scare their kids into thinking they need to shape up or be left there.  

In the end, Everett and his friends were given a great explanation and really were happy about what they had given away.  Then we went to McDonald's where everyone had a great time playing in the playplace.  I had wondered if seven year olds were too old to enjoy something like that, but they definitely were not!

Time with William

William has always been happy, easy-going, sweet, and sensitive.  Now that Everett and Ashley are away at school all day, and James still takes long naps, William and I have had some good opportunities to do fun things together.

Sometimes his idea of fun and my idea of fun are not very similar.  If William had his way, he would play with cars and trucks and all "things that go" every hour of the day.  He is obsessed, in the best possible way.  

I have struggled to play with cars and trucks.  I've never been very interested in them.  But I am interested in William so I feign interest in the item so I can enjoy his expressive play (and it IS expressive).

But now that William is three, he is old enough to enjoy some simple board games.  Candyland, Snakes and Ladders, Memory--all of these make an almost daily rotation in our schedule.  

Though William never seems to tire of these games, I sometimes find myself counting the minutes until we are done.  Even Joel, who vowed long ago to never cheat on a game to let any of his children win ("They need to learn how to lose, and when they finally beat me it will be worth it," he'd explain), has finagled William's victory in a few of those games.

In short, it has been a challenge to find activities that are mutually enjoyable.  I always default to crafts like painting and collages and building, but William has very little interest.  He'd rather play with cars.  As active or as vehicle-centric as I can make the craft, William can only maintain interest in it for a few minutes.  But a few minutes is better than nothing, so we continue on for the sake of avoiding monotony.

So, I was thrilled when I finally found a craft William could devote a chunk of interest to: egg carton helicopters!

We had a great time putting these together.  He was not interested in coloring or decorating them in any fashion, but he was interested in discussing and assembling the parts.

To prepare for this craft, we read some books about helicopters and learned about some basic differences between models (Wheels or skids?  One rotor or two?  Open tail or metal-encased?).  Where does the pilot sit?  How does it go?  Where is the engine?  What can a helicopter land on?  How does it fly?

William was fascinated by all this information and looked as though he was ready to dive into the pages of our books and begin flying his own amazing machine.

So, building our own helicopters was a great afternoon diversion.  He wanted to make one for everyone in the family and had fun choosing whether to put wheels or skids on each.  It was fun for me to see him so giggly, and it was fun for him to enjoy something new.  I am trying to work on his fine motor skills with him and this was a craft that made us both happy.

The Time I Lost My Everett

I've never lost any of my kids, not truly.  I've never felt the worry a lost child leaves behind grip me chillingly around the back of my neck; I've never been overcome with sleeting panic, bursting from a sudden realization that I not only don't know where my child is, I have no idea where else to look.

I've never felt any of these things, except once.

I brought Everett to an evening soccer practice held at our local YMCA one evening in late spring.  He was excited; I was anxious to get out the door.  The practice fields were lined up on an expansive field next to the building.  Volunteer coaches were buoys, bobbing along the grass, sending their little players this way and that.  Even the missionaries from our church were coaching their own cute little team.   I dropped Everett off with his coach and sat for a few minutes to watch, then left to go run around the track encircling the field and the Y's building.  I was going to improve my 5k time if I could possibly help it, and here was the perfect opportunity.  I could peek in on Everett each time I rounded the bend on his side of the field.

After a few laps, my legs burned and my lungs were shrinking, so I reigned in my concentration to focus on pounding my feet to the rhythm I had already set.

Triumphantly, I finished my 5k in a pretty good beginner's time.  I walked over to watch Everett's last ten minutes of practice, my endorphins in full swing.  His team was enjoying a drill.  His coach was watching closely.  But there was no Everett.

My heart jolted and throbbed for a minute, but since I am not one to panic, I looked around at the other teams in the hope that Everett got mixed up or purposely joined a friend of his.

He was nowhere to be seen.

I pulled the coach aside to ask where my son was and felt surprised to hear that not only did he not know where Everett was (casual shrug), he hadn't seen him at any time in the last twenty minutes. I questioned the parents near the field to no success, then walked toward the front entrance of the building.  I met a good friend of mine on the way and explained the situation.  She immediately jumped to my aid and we made a quick plan.

At this point, I wasn't truly worried.  Somehow I knew that Everett was fine.  But as I talked with the front desk manager, who immediately began sending employees out in search of a little six-year-old boy in a blue superman shirt, I began to feel an unfamiliar sort of hurt creep into my heart.

Poking my head into bathrooms, attempting to keep my voice level while describing Everett to random gym-goers, pushing away any worst-case scenarios that my mind delivered--nothing I did kept the fingers of that icy hurt from beginning to choke me.

When my friend and I crossed into the same hallway and she asked hopefully, "Did you find him?"  I meant to answer calmly, but my "No" turned wobbly and crumbled into a waterfall of tears.

In a way it felt relieving to release some tears, but I was also surprised.  I never cry, not even when pregnant.  But a lost child trumps any sort of pregnancy hormone.

The fact was, I had no idea where my son was, and an army of employees hadn't found him either.

Five seconds later (which to me felt more like years), I heard a faint voice shout, "We've found him!"

I was immersed in a pool of relief and it tasted sweet, but it did not mask the constricting bruises leftover by worry. I hurried to the front doors where a young employee was guiding in my little Everett.  His relief at seeing me became confusion when he saw the tears coursing down my face.  I made every effort to compose myself, but I couldn't speak with a level voice until I had sat down with him on a private bench outside the building.

I explained how worried I was and asked where he had been and if he was ok.  Everett's eyes widened as they followed the teary trails along my cheeks.  He explained that we had forgotten his water bottle and went to find a drink during the team's water break.  An employee later told me they had found Everett crouched between two cars in the parking lot--he heard people calling for him, but since they were all strangers, he wasn't willing to reveal himself.  His hope had been to find a water bottle in our car, which happened to be locked, and so he found himself at an impasse.

After a discussion on what he should have done instead and some reassurance from my end that I was not upset with him, I took Everett to apologize to his coach, who was packing up the soccer equipment.  Practice had already ended.

Though I knew Everett should apologize for not asking for permission to leave or at least informing the coach of his plans, it galled me to go through with the apology when the coach was wholly unconcerned from the start.  His casual demeanor, even when Everett returned, belied his apathy.

The coach didn't have any idea where my six-year-old son was for over twenty minutes and didn't give me the courtesy of pretending to care.  As any wounded parent would, I grasped for someone to blame for my emotions, and the coach was the nearest candidate.  To him, a careless boy had wandered off and would certainly be found.  To me, a piece of my heart I had let loose for another adult to look after was missing.  And it had to be someone's fault.

Truthfully, it was a comedy of errors--little missteps on the part of all of us.  I had forgotten to give Everett his water bottle and then didn't have my eye on him.  Everett left without informing his coach.  His coach was overwhelmed with instructing twelve little children in a sport he was obviously unfamiliar with.

The night ended just fine, as was my instinct when I first began my search.  But a stronger instinct surged past my initial private reassurance--concern for the safety of my child.

I'm glad all my worry was for nothing.  I don't know what we would do without my sweet guy.

Saying Goodbye

(Warning:  This stuff is only interesting to me, and possibly the grandparents.  I am recording it so I don't forget these sweet details, and not to brag about these children that I do love.)

If you've been following this blog, you may know that we moved into our current area too late to get the kids into our neighborhood school.  As a result, they have been attending a school two miles away.  It has actually been a great experience for the kids.  Everett and Ashley both had wonderful teachers there, and I was a little sad to see it come to an end.

Why did it come to an end, you may ask?  Because two weeks ago, someone from the district office notified me that places have opened up in our neighborhood school, and would I like to switch my kids?

At first I felt a little hesitant,  but it was an easy decision in the end.  Ashley was thrilled, because that means she would go to the same school as her best friend next door.  I knew the switch might make her feel a little nervous, but I also knew she likely wouldn't stress about it.  Everett wasn't thrilled about the change.  He did shed a few tears.  He had a hard time with our move this summer, as the attachments he forms to people he cares about are deep and never forgotten.  He still loves a girl he knew from kindergarten, even now over a year after they first became friends.  And, he has loved his first grade teacher at the school they were attending here.

I don't know if love is a powerful enough word.  Everett adored this woman with every single spark of feeling he had (which is a surprising amount for such a young boy).  I could see it plainly every time I saw him talk to her.  His admiration radiated from his face like sunbeams.  He would have done anything for this teacher.  

Every child should have a teacher they love that much--it really opens up the entire school experience for them.

Everett's class presented him with this cute going-away card and gave him a precious few minutes of class time to read a story to everyone.  He chose to read The Three Billy Goats Gruff.

Everett already had a best friend at his old school.  The principal knew Everett's name after just a couple of weeks.  Everett made everyone laugh when he brought the ultrasound pictures of our new little Johnson boy-to-be-born to school.  "I think he showed those off to every single person in the school!"  Everett's teacher had remarked to me.  "He is such a proud big brother!"  His journal entry from that day says, "I am so excited that we are going to have a new baby boy."

Some of the staff at the school Everett attended last year told me, "He makes us laugh daily!"  I wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean, but I believed it.  I think the staff at this particular school felt the same way.  They all knew who he was, that was for sure. 

Everett even was selected to have a special waffle breakfast with the teachers.  The once-monthly invitations are reserved for students who have shown great leadership.  This school was all about the positive reward system, and it worked great for Everett.  I was glad he had a chance to do participate in the breakfast before we switched schools.

Everett wrote his teacher many cards.  He made this one at the beginning of the year when she was out sick.  His creative spelling says something like, "Dear (teacher) I love you I hope that you get better  I love you as a teacher  Love Everett"

Everett's teacher also remarked to me that he is the most polite first grader she has ever met, which made me laugh in surprise.  I'm just glad he has it in him somewhere not as deep-down as I feared.  She also told me multiple times that he is "such a sweetheart."  I had to agree.  Everett has a big heart filled with love for all.  And as you readers well know, we mothers always appreciate people who see the same good things in our children that we do.

So when I had a final conference with this wonderful teacher, I got a little teary when I told her how much it has meant to me that she fostered such appreciation in my boy.  It was embarrassing, but she teared up a little too and told me how much she would miss him, and I didn't feel so silly anymore.

Ashley had a wonderful teacher as well, and I am kicking myself that I forgot to take a picture of the two of them together.  I was able to have a final conference with Ashley's teacher as well.  It was a real treat.  I was excited for Ashley to have this particular teacher because she has a daughter around the same age with a very similar temperament as Ashley--that is, reserved and quiet and very introspective.

Ashley likes to observe, internalize, and output only when she feels ready.  I love this about her.  It gives her time to think before she speaks.  This is the reason she knew all her colors before she was two--she observed and learned all on her own because she is so comfortable hanging out inside her own mind.

I was able to go on Ashley's field trip to the apple orchard.  We live in suburbia, where there are a million moms who all want a piece of the classroom volunteer pie.  It is not typical of education experiences in our nation and world-wide, and I am grateful that my kids have these kinds of learning opportunities.  I also struggle with how to make them aware that they are very, very lucky, but that is a subject for another time.  But what this means for field trips is that the teachers have to hold drawings for a select number of moms to be able to ride the bus.  My name, and one other, was chosen.  We still had so many volunteers drive behind the bus that each parent only had the charge of two children.

So I took this as a sign that I'd better find arrangements for the little boys and go on the field trip.  I am so glad I did.  Ashley and I had a very nice morning together.  I wasn't surprised that she wanted to stay with me the whole time, but I was still pleased.  I never get tired of spending one-on-one time with her.  It is fun to see her sparkle under the special attention.

Ashley is quiet and dependable at school.  She is good at learning because she likes to think.  Her teacher remarked that her handwriting is amazing and that she is quite the artist. (I heard the same thing last year in preschool when her teachers handed me a name-writing practice sheet.  "Obviously," they said, "she is comfortable with writing."  We all laughed.  The letters in her name were adorned with curlicues.) Since Ashley is so reserved, usually teachers don't know much about her, especially at the first conference of the year.  Ashley tends to fade into the background of a busy class.  But this particular teacher made me feel that she did take special notice of Ashley--maybe because Ashley reminds her of her own daughter.  "I love to hear Ashley laugh," she said, "because it doesn't happen very often.  But when I see it, I think 'Yes!  I did it!'"

Ashley laughs a lot at home, but I was happy to hear that her teacher enjoyed seeing a little piece of that at school.

I dropped Ashley off on her first morning at her new school.  "Hey!  Here's the new girl" Shouted Ashley's locker partner.  A sweet little boy came close and said, "Whoah, she is so beautiful. . ."  It was the first time I felt protective over my daughter.  My instinct was to usher him away from her and sternly say, "Now, that's quite enough, young man."  But then I realized I was being silly and the cute little boy was only being candidly nice, and he was just five years old, for heaven's sake.  My temptation to tell him that she has many things of much greater value about her than just the way she looks, and she isn't eye candy, etc. etc. etc. faded away.

Yes, I might be a little paranoid about raising a daughter these days, why do you ask?

Ashley's previous teacher and her new teacher had already spoken on the phone twice in the two days they had to squeeze in the sudden school-moving details, and her new teacher had already invited us to the new school after school hours, on a Friday, so Ashley could see the classroom and begin get a feel for the new teacher's way of doing things.

Funny sidenote:  Every single one of Ashley's teachers has always called her "Miss Ashley."  I can't say for sure that they don't use that title for anyone else, but I've never heard them do so.  Even knowing this, I was still surprised when, the first time we met with Ashley's new teacher, she immediately referred to sweet Ashley as "Miss."  I call my daughter "Miss Ashley" as well; it just feels like the natural thing to do. 

In short, we've been very, very fortunate to have wonderful teachers this year.

SO, the kids each wanted to make a special card for their teachers.  I thought this was a great idea.  The cards happened to be Halloween-themed, since the school switch happened right around the holiday and it must have been on their mind.

The front of Ashley's has a monster with cavities in its sharp teeth.

"I am sad that I am going to a new school.  I will miss you thank you for being my teacher.  Love Ashley"

You can tell that Ashley loves drawing but doesn't much like coloring her drawings in.  You can also tell that she was rushing with the handwriting, but I love the backwards S's and cute spelling anyway.

Everett wanted to scare his teacher with a monster who doesn't talk correctly.  It is saying "I am eat you."

Everett found his teacher's fear of spiders fascinating and unusual.  So naturally he drew a spider on his card that is threatening to eat her.

Six weeks into school and he still struggled with spelling her name correctly!

                           
"Thank you for reading the Titanic and reading the Boxcar Children.  I love them.  I love you.  Love Everett."

My kids were proud of their cards.  I'm glad I had the presence of mind to squeeze in a picture before school.

So far the school transition has been great.  Everett likes his new teacher and has already made better friends with a boy he knows from church.  Ashley is easy-going and independent, and has adapted well to her new classroom.  Seeing her next-door friend during recess is the sweet topping to the whole deal for her!