Category Archives: Developmental
Milestones and almost-milestones.
Signs that your kids are watching too much Mythbusters.
It all began when I overheard the following statement: “Okay Porter, now don’t scream when I do this.”
Watching Porter’s front teeth twist and turn over the last weeks has been an infinite source of family entertainment. He has been guaranteed that at least one of us throughout the course of the day will walk up to him and ask, “hasn’t one of those teeth fallen out YET?” Myself included – which you think I’d be a little more sensitive about considering I was asked “haven’t had that baby YET?!” about 600 bazillion times with both of my insanely overdue pregnancies. But I digress.
So ANYWAYS, teeth. Loose. Insanely loose and crooked. There were days when I would look in the rear-view mirror of the car and see my son’s face with a single tooth resting atop his lower lip. Kinda like this (but in place of the bird is his nasty smelling blanket):
I tried to do some documenting the evolution of this process on my own:
Flash forward to yesterday.
Stella had finally reached her limit. Action needed to be taken. And big sisters can be very persuasive. Her plan involved one packet of purple embroidery thread from her friendship bracelet kit, one remote control all-terrain vehicle, and a whole lot of trial and error. Once she had successfully a.) gotten Porter’s buy-in, b.) figured out how to successfully attach the string to the tooth and the remote control car, and c.) gunned the car with just the right amount of slack in the line, she achieved her goal:
I still laugh each and every time I look at this photo. The blood. The look of victory on Stella’s face. The look of I-Don’t-Know-How-She-Convinced-Me-This-Was-A-Good-Idea on Porter’s face. It pretty much tells the entire story all by itself.
Leaving the Nest
So it started with Kindergarten orientation – no, wait – make that soccer – no, no, no back that train up. Make that day camp. Day Camp is when we started seeing the writing on the wall. The writing that said “Oh Here Go Hell Come”.
The last couple weeks with Little P have broken down like this:
Day Camp:
1st week number of days signed up = 4
1st week number of days actually attended = 2
Through some miracle of I-don’t-know-what, we seemed to figure out just the right combination of clicks, whistles and twirls that got us through the remaining weeks without incident.
Soccer:
Number of practices attended = 2
Number of practices participated in = 0
Number of games = 1
Number of games participated in = 0
Number of times the uniform has been on his person = 0
Current Theory: He may have more of a future as the team photographer.
Kindergarten Orientation:
Number of minutes it took to put on the nametag = 20
Number of pictures the teacher’s aid was allowed to take of him for the bulletin board = 0
Number of pictures I had to take of him for the bulletin board = 1
Number of times he was more than 6 inches from my body = 1
Here is the singular photo I was able to take of him while attending orientation (it was the only time he was far enough away from me that I could actually focus the camera to get a shot):
First Day of Kindergarten:
Number of times we barely averted chaos before leaving the house = 2
Number of hours I anticipated being late to work = 2
Number of times I expected to receive a phone call once at work = 5
BUT…..
Number of minutes it took to put on the nametag = .0025!!!
Number of whines and/or leg clings = 0!!!
Number of photos taken = 11!!!
Number of hugs/kisses/waves goodbye = 1, 1 & 3!!! (respectively)
Number of phone calls to work = 0!!!
Number of tears shed (by either of us) = 0!!! [I felt so much relief and joy that I was, literally, unable to feel sad or sentimental.]
And as for that other girl of ours, well 3rd graders tolerate their mothers for about 5-7 minutes before giving them the side-eye and telling them to move along already. At least that is my first-hand experience.
And so there I was – watching the one who I had to gently scoot from the nest and the other who bolted at a dead run. I can’t help but wonder if this is how it will always be.
(click the photo to see the entire set)
Stella starts the 2nd grade.
We are now the proud owner of a 2nd grader. Our model happens to come complete with the Virtual Teenager Upgrade, as witnessed by the conversation held after her first day:
Me: “Soooooo, how was your first day?”
Her: “OMYGOD, Ruby had this TOTALLY cute shirt on.”
Me: “Wow. So how did you like your teacher?”
Her: “It had a heart on it like right here on the shoulder and then this happy face and it was all plaid and-”
Me: “Um, so who is in your class with you?”
Her: “What’s for snack?”
Me: “Good talk, Stel. Good talk.”
Got it. Read it. Elapsed time: 3 hrs 26 mins.
Also: has since read it 2 more times.
