Update

The thing about having three small children in your house is that they tend to change very quickly.  Caedmon started crawling a few weeks ago, and is getting faster every day.  One of the boys' new favorite games involves Atticus crawling quickly away from his brother yelling, "Chase me, Caedmon, chase me!"  Caedmon smiles and plods along while Atticus laughs hysterically and races away.

A few days ago, Caedmon pulled up for the first time.  He was desperate to see just what Adelaide was doing in the bathtub.  The next day, we were upstairs and I lost track of the little guy.  I walked into the bathroom to see this:

No big sister or even water in the tub this time, apparently he just likes to look in there and jabber away at nobody.

I'm not sure what he's smiling at.  My children often smile at nobody and talk to themselves. 

They're like their mama that way.

Let's see, what else is new around here?

Atticus hasn't quite stopped stuttering, but it has diminished quite a bit.  Had I mentioned he's been stuttering for the past few weeks?  I was trying (and often failing) not to freak out over it, especially after I read that it's normal for two-year-old boys to stutter, and that it's usually temporary.  And by temporary, I mean it only lasts anywhere from a few weeks to a few years.  This same medical source also stated that with mild stuttering, children often don't even notice they're doing it.  Our boy's obviously wasn't so mild; several times a day we'd hear, "W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-- I can't say it!"  He was so frustrated.  From what we had read, you're not supposed to focus on or make a big deal out of it, not finish sentences for the them, and set aside time each day to talk with your child.  I don't know if it had anything to do with our actions or was just a phase that has almost run it's course, but thankfully, we only hear him stammering a couple times a day now, and it seems pretty mild. 

By the bye, have any of you seen The King's Speech?  Derek and I watched it shortly before Atticus started stuttering.  I keep telling myself there is no connection.

Adelaide graduated from preschool this week.

"But don't take away my alligator pie!"

You had to be there.

She's already missing school, as are the rest of us.  She's excited about going to Kindergarten in the fall, but apprehensive about riding the bus.  I'm not sure what to do to alleviate her fears.  Call the bus barn and ask to tour the bus?  Advice, anyone?

We've also been thinking about all the folks in and around Joplin.  Please continue to keep them in your prayers and they try to recover, rebuild, and find a new normal after the devastating tornado.

Multi-Generational

The Crisler Men Across Four Generations:

That's Derek with our two sons, his dad, Dennis, and his dad, Don.

Nothing says Thursday like alliteration fun, right?

I love looking at photos like these.  I like to search for the similar physical traits within relatives, and find it fascinating to see something pop up across several generations.  I love that when I first saw a photo of Derek's grandpa when he was young, I saw our son Atticus' eyes in a face born eighty-some years before Atticus.

I felt the same way the first time I saw my great-grandma's handwriting and realized it looks exactly like mine.

Heredity is a funny thing, isn't it?   

It's Inevitable

The older I get, the more like my mother I seem to become.  I am often reminded of this in rather subtle ways, but every once in a while it's more like a smack in the face than a gentle reminder. 

I was going through Adelaide's birthday pictures yesterday, and happened across this photo:

I remember many pictures where my mother is cheerfully cheesing, and I (and/ or my sisters) are scowling or staring sullenly at the camera.

Or how about this one?

Adelaide's preschool graduation was yesterday afternoon, and before we left, I wanted to snap a few pictures.  I took her out onto the front porch because I can't seem to take a decent picture with a flash to save my life.  As I stepped back with the camera, she immediately spun around and said, "I don't want you to take my picture!"  She only turned back around after I asked her to do some ballet for the camera. 

Passe

Bowing after her impromptu performance

I'm sorry, who took dance lessons for 15 years?  Oh, right, that was me.  Looks like she's going to be just like her mother. 

As each little preschooler crossed the stage yesterday to receive their diploma, their teacher said, "And when so-and-so grows up, she wants to be a so-and-so."  Among the girls, there were ballerinas, princesses, a cheerleader, a few doctors.  The boys wanted to be football and baseball players, construction workers, policemen and firemen. 

Adelaide was the first one to cross the stage, and her teacher announced, "When Adelaide grows up, she wants to be a mommy." 

I just can't seem to get away from this whole daughters-turning-into-their-mothers thing.

But maybe that's not such a bad thing.

Note:  There is supposed to be an accent over the 'e' in "passe," but I couldn't figure out how to get it in there.  I am enough of a spelling and grammar freak that I had to include this footnote explaining that.  Over and out.



Ladies Man

Over the weekend, we had some friends from Connecticut over to our house.  This gave Derek an excuse to spend the afternoon employed in one of his favorite backyard activities:  cooking various forms of meat in his smoker. 

He makes some seriously delicious turkey in that thing.  Plus it makes our yard (and the whole neighborhood) smell scrumptious. 

After eating the turkey and other fixin's, we adjourned to the backyard, where our elder son's true colors began to shine through. 

Our friend Erin had settled herself in the grass and was playing with her sweet-faced little boy.  I had noticed Atticus edging closer and closer to her, and he finally sat down about a foot away from her.  He began looking at her out of the corner of his eye, not really turning his face completely toward her, just hoping to catch her eye.  When she finally looked back and smiled at him, he began looking at her sideways with a smile on his face that was a little lascivious and a lot creepy.

Fortunately, she seemed to find a two-year-old boy leering at her humorous rather than frightening.

This morning when Atticus came to rouse me from bed, his first question (after "I'm so hungry, Mommy,") was "Where's Erin?" 
I told him she wasn't here, emphasizing that she was probably with her husband Tommy- in other words, already taken.
This remark obviously had little effect on him, because he replied, "Dat's okay.  She can come pway wiv me in the backyard.  You can stay inside."

I don't know about you, but the song running through my head right now is "And They Called It Puppy Love."  Because it was kind of cute.

Also, "I'll Be Watching You."  Because it was also kind of creepy.

At this point, our friends may be glad they live in Connecticut.

Please Hold The Applause

Throughout our lives, we should continually learn new things and strive to improve ourselves.  At least, that's what I've been told.  I'm not always so great at this, but I am pleased to announce that yesterday I saw real improvement in one specific area: my fear of spiders.

Note that I do not use the word arachnophobia.  A phobia is, by definition, an irrational fear.  There is nothing irrational about being afraid of spiders.

I spent some time outside yesterday, weeding my front flower beds.  Caedmon was with me, and at one point, as I walked under the branches of a tree, I thought we walked through a spider web.  I shivered and ran my hands over every inch of both my and Caedmon's bodies, brushing off any insect silk.

Awhile later, I was getting ready to make supper.  Caedmon was, as usual, perched on my left hip, when I thought I saw something out of the corner of my eye.  I turned and looked straight at him, and saw a gray spider scurry across his forehead. 

Now, this is where the proof of my improvement lies:  rather than screaming hysterically and picking up the heaviest object within reach and obliterating that spider (and thereby maiming my infant son), I merely let out a squeal, did an odd little hop-dance to the Kleenex box, squished the spider, and threw it away.

Victory is mine!

Did I mention the spider was maybe the size of an eraser-head?  Or that I used five Kleenexes to crush the life out of that spider?

Does it really matter?

Atticus showed that he is familiar with this little squeal of mine, because within moments of the disposal of the arachnid, he called down the stairs, "I'll come kill the bug, Mommy!  Just a minute."

He takes his position as man of the house seriously when Daddy's at work. 

 Adelaide and I both appreciate it.  Especially when one of us happens across an icky bug.

Birthday Recap

This past weekend was Adelaide's Grand Birthday Extravaganza.  It began Thursday, when she brought mini-cupcakes to share with her classmates at preschool.  They were decorated with her favorite color, pink.



On Friday, her actual birthday, she decked herself out in her birthday best.  It was raining, so her finery included a raincoat and rainboots.  I think she managed to pull the whole thing off.



After changing her mind several times, she finally decided she wanted to go eat supper at Hickory Park with the grandparents and great-grandparents who had driven in to see her.  The waiters and waitresses all gathered round to sing "Happy Birthday" and presented her with a cup of bubble gum ice cream topped with a lit candle.  Atticus stuffed himself silly with blue ice cream, and Caedmon embarassed his mother.

Caedmon was seated in a high chair at the end of the table, and was behaving himself quite well.  I had turned toward Adelaide, away from the baby, when I heard a man at the next table laughing.  I turned to see what was so humorous, and followed his gaze to Caedmon.  The waitress had squeezed behind his high chair and the other table, and our son had swiveled around in his seat, arm outstretched, his little seven-month-old hand ever so gently carressing her derriere.  I felt a traitorous blush start to spread across my face and attempted to pull him out of his chair, but he did not want to be parted from his new favorite female and did his best to stay with her.  After what was probably all of ten seconds but felt like ten minutes, I managed to wrestle him out of his chair and into my lap.  The waitress turned and gave him an indulgent smile, and I attempted to convey to the boy that it's not considered polite to get fresh with perfect strangers, no matter how cute you are. 

Full of ice cream, our party trooped back to the house to open presents.  Adelaide was blessed indeed and communicated her gratefulness with a gasp of surprise and exclamation of delight as she opened each gift:  "Clothes!... Magic Tree House books!... More books!... A pencil!... A notebook!... Easy Bake Oven!..." 

Saturday morning, after dragging the children around to multiple garage sales, she finally got to have her requested Oreo birthday cake.  She has spent the last several days reading her new books, completing dot-to-dot pages, and baking teeny tiny cakes in her new oven.  She went to the doctor this morning for her five-year apppointment, and she has grown two inches the past year and gained four pounds.  The doctor was pleased with her progress, and while Adelaide wasn't exactly brave for the immunizations, she took the stickers and pencil the nurse gave her as a peace offering with good grace. 

We're all looking forward to her next year and the changes it will bring.

This Is A Good Story

Today we went to the Huxley City-Wide Garage Sale.

I love garage sales.  Or, as they called them in Connecticut, tag sales.

Crazy Connecticutians.

I bought all kinds of cute bargain clothing for the kids, and this for Adelaide's bedroom at Christmas-time:

Derek wasn't too impressed.  He doesn't really go for tacky Christmas decorations.

The End.