little m update

Little M is starting to not be quite so little anymore. His shoulders are broad and make shirts that fit in every other way look like they don't fit. He wears the shirt you see above most every day because it fits him in the shoulders yet isn't too long in the sleeves. He likes his hiking boots because that is what a naturalist would wear. He has conducted educational classes for the 3 year old neighbor/fairy/princess/ballerina on his "Catch and Release Program for Woolie-banded Caterpillars." She could've cared less except for the fact that Little M is magical in her eyes. He has snapped his fingers for two years now and likes to skip to remember his friend Lucy O in Scotland who taught him how to do just that. He hopes she is practicing her snapping as he taught her. He misses Scotland, but wants to stay in our new house forever. He told me about how he got into a wee bit of trouble at school yesterday, but he's working on it. Lovely family and friends, no tidy and chuckle-worthy stories today.  Just taking stock before I forget...

of pets and girls

One of the best things about G is that she is not afraid of bugs. Every creepy crawlie she squawks over, "Mama! Look it's one of my pets!" The woolie caterpillars on our porch, the rollie pollies in Scotland, the stinkbugs clinging to our screened windows in search of warmth from the settling autumn...these are all beloved creatures in her heart. I must be honest. Bugs creep me out. I've learned to take a deep breath. But really they creep me out. G, on the other hand, has no squirms searching for the hatch on fishing trips and only screams when I accidentally step on some snail or spider or banded slug she was saving for her menagerie. Her love affair with bugs collided with her abandoned adoration with her older brother during a recent visit from Nana. Picture a four year old, just losing her toddler tummy and sprouting long wirey limbs and her furtive carrying of a jar of pets delivered to her most favorite person on earth, her older brother, at bedtime. Nana asked, "Are you carrying bugs upstairs?" No, no she wasn't she said. The next morning, after swatting 17 off her brother's ceiling and walls at 11:32 at night, we asked, "Did you carry some pets upstairs last night?" Yes, yes. The house now is full of her pets she said. I am still smashing stinkbugs off the walls of her brother's room. It's night number 5 since the denied jar of pets was delivered. I must smash at night so as not to endure her very deep sadness at each broken exoskeleton. Crunch, crunch, crunch. A mama's got to have limits.

wake up

Nope. No pictures. You want pictures? You come and get woken up by a rounding rendition of atonal strumming by the "Meerkat Ukelele Band" at 6:32 am.