Zanna's Five!

Zanna turns FIVE (how are the girls turning five???) on the 27th, so we celebrated her today with a fun outdoor bike parade at her church's playground.

Zanna in blue on pink

Josephine in pink on blue

Josephine had lots of fun celebrating her lifelong friend!

Meanwhile, Clement had his own little party.  

Did a little swinging.

Did a little climbing in and out of cars.

Did a little escaping from Mom, crawling across the playground, climbing into the sand pit...

...only to find out he actually doesn't like sand very much.

At one point, I joined him and tried to show him how to shovel the sand, which he found disgusting.  

Later I saw him trying to get to a bench to pull up on, so as to extricate himself from the grainy substance, but he couldn't get to it because he was averse to putting his hands into the sand.  The most he would do was lean forward on the very heel of his hand, keeping his fingers raised above it.  He couldn't actually reach the bench by doing this, though, and he kept recoiling back into the upright position every time his fingers tipped down onto the sand.  I watched him do this repeatedly; he looked utterly perplexed.  Which was pitiful, but also completely ridiculous.

I mean, please.

What kind of kid doesn't like SAND?  

I figured he just needed encouragement.

So I went over to where he was and tried demonstrating how much fun it was to hold it!  Let it slip through your fingers!  Burrow your hand down into it!  Smooth it out!  Pile it up!  Seeeeee??  Sand is so fun!

He just scowled, shook his head in a vigorous NO, and looked at me disparagingly, like, "Really, Mother, I thought you were better than that."

(This is also precisely how he reacted to grass when we got him home from New York, though.  And mulch didn't go over much better.  But now he'll play in and with both.  So I think he just needs a little more time.  He's merely a skeptical, cautious little fellow...)

Case in point: it took a LOT of persuasion to get him to enter this green tube.  (And by that I mean, I finally just picked him up and put him in it.  Twice.)  And then it took a lot of cheering to get him to actually keep crawling and go through it, even when I ran around to the other end.   But after he did it a few times, he seemed to really like it-- loved the windows, loved following Josephine through it.  So see, it is technically possible for him to have fun!  He simply has to warm up to the idea!

I just don't know that I can trust all this playground business...

misc.

Just a couple cute pictures of Clement from last week, and below, Josephine teaming up with her friend Lucy to haul her little brother, Cas, around the yard.  Pretty adorable play date!

you give a kid a flashlight...

... so she can "solve the mystery of the missing puzzle piece."
Innocent enough, right?

However.

Upon doing so, you have ensured the demise of your entire living room.

You do not realize it at the time, but only because you were caught off guard.

"In a post-coffee state, I'd have known better!" you will tell yourself later.

"There is always a disproportionate price for bestowing a privilege!"

Flashlight in hand, Investigator Josephine and Conscripted Cohort Clement embark on a scrupulous hunt under the couch.  Many minutes are spent with their bottoms up in the air, rigorously testing the on-off functionality of the flashlight, and peering at what must be a fascinating display of dust bunnies and lost toys dancing in the resulting strobe light.

While meticulously avoiding anything helpful like rescuing those lost toys, they eventually determine the missing puzzle piece is not amongst them.  

... and become greatly distraught.

(Well, Investigator does.  Cohort retains his standard expression of enthralled confusion... an effect Josephine has on most of us.)

"Perhaps," I foolishly and still-uncaffeinatedly say in an effort to help, "you should look in the cushions."

And so really, all of this was my own fault.

Turns out the missing puzzle piece was across the room under the futon...

... and that they didn't care about the puzzle any more anyway.

In a vague attempt to save face with myself, I have formed a threefold justification for what on the surface might resemble loss of control (which may or may not be reality):
1) It is cold outside.
2) Good exercise for Clement!
3) Their grandparents basically made the whole couch, so this is what they would want, right?  To enable the joy and pleasure of their grandkids at any cost??  (sorry, Mom and Dad.  But hey, major props on the sturdiness of your handiwork!)

don't worry, mommy.  we still respect you.  really.

After watching the antics for a good while and downing a couple cups of coffee, I realized the only way to salvage the situation (and retain my status as their authority figure) was to pretend like it was my idea.  So I emphasized strongly to the Investigator that this was a "special occasion".  (Parent-speak for any event your kids are relishing but you're mildly regretting.)  Of course Cohort ignored the lecture, so if you ever see him trying to pull cushions off of furniture, now you know what he's up to.  You can blame me for that.

But if you hand them a flashlight, whatever happens next is on your own head. 

You've been warned.

embrace your bipedality!

Sir Stubborn has been getting stronger and braver, but we're still not there.  To encourage his efforts towards walking, this afternoon's project was a PVC railing from the porch to the play house, and from there to the slide.  (Because our backyard isn't overflowing with enough plastic, clearly.)

He did cruise along it a little after I put it in, so we'll see if it helps.

My mom gets credit for the idea.
God gets credit for the gorgeous sunny weather which made the whole project seem fun.
Our Honda gets credit for me having acquired a new tool!  I didn't bring my hacksaw, thinking Lowe's could cut the pieces for me so they would fit in my car.  But they were absolutely slammed today.  Then I saw this ratcheting scissor device just for PVC pipes!  Who knew??  Proud owner, right here. (up to 1.25" diameter, if you need to borrow it)