The wedding party

The grandkids and their parents all were members of a wedding party a couple of weeks ago. Since Abby and Eric were going up the aisle before the children, I went along as a "kid wrangler."

They did their jobs beautifully, as I suspect they would have even if I weren't there to whisper "go." Their slightly older cousins did well, too. Only the two-year-old, who had her own wrangler, veered off course, giving everyone a chuckle. Vi had practiced her wedding walk both here and at home, tossing pretend rose petals as she went. I got a look at the aisle...there was one large red petal every two feet, dropped with precision for the bride's approach. 

The kids let off a little steam before the ceremony (probably to the annoyance of somebody or other) but they were angels during the ceremony and dinner, and then they danced up a storm. And while other youngsters I've known couldn't wait to get out of their tuxes, or kick off their shoes, these kids stayed "in character" for their wedding roles.
.
Vi reveled in looking pretty, complete with tiny tiara and sparkly red shoes. She and her cousin Tessa gave their parents a glimpse of the beautiful young women they'll be in another handful of years, when the boys begin to call. Their parents looked nervous.

Meanwhile, Augie was standing tall in his tuxedo. Even with animal cracker crumbs in his lap, I got the impression he knew this suit was somehow important, and he was living up to it. When the dancing started and the groom's men took off their ties, jackets, and vests to cool off, Augie stayed properly dressed.

Because I was busy shepherding the children, I was out of position to get photos of them processing in, Vi with her basket and Augie with a ring pillow (sans ring). And the family photos I got will remain offline until Abby and Eric use one as a Christmas card.

So there's not much more to say here except that on this day, when the kids dressed up like lovely little grownups, I think I got a glimpse of who they will be. And, in fact, who they already are. And I enjoyed it, but I'm in no hurry for them to grow up.

The New Normal

Augie, with three weeks of kindergarten under his belt, walks a little taller and behaves a little more responsibly. ViMae, initially bereft without him, is enjoying our undivided attention and learning who she wants to be when he’s not around. They were already spectacular, and now they are just a little more grownup.

We’ve settled into a daily routine. The kids still arrive at roughly 6:45, and I’ve started getting up at 7 instead of 8. There is time to play, eat a big breakfast (an hour earlier than we used to), and have lots of conversation. Then at exactly 8:07 Augie puts on shoes and jacket and heads out the door with his grandpa.

This routine works because Augie is much more able to do what he’s asked the first time. Come to breakfast. Wash hands. Time to go. These used to be a struggle, because he gets immersed in whatever he’s doing and it has been hard for him to let go. We all knew he needed to get better about it in order to get along in school, and he has risen to the occasion.

A couple of days ago he announced that he was ready for Pa to drop him off at school instead of parking the car and walking in with him. So yesterday Peter watched with a lump in his throat as Augie ran to the door, turned and gave a big grinning wave, and disappeared inside.

As Augie and Pa go out the door, ViMae is taking my hand and pulling me toward wherever she wants to play this day.

We do crafty things with markers, stickers, construction paper, play-dough, and the like. Using scarves, tiaras, and silk flowers we dress as dancers, as princesses, as a bride (her) and flower girl (me). We dance or drink pretend tea or practice walking slowly up an imaginary aisle. Often Pa reads to her, and sometimes we play a board game.

What is striking is that every activity lasts much longer than before. With Augie here, ViMae interrupted herself every few minutes to see what he was doing. Often she got sidetracked and didn’t return. Now we play for an hour or more at each activity, and as a result, her skills are developing: Our projects are more complete, our pretend stories more developed, our dances far more expressive. She often stops to say, "This is fun!" It will be fascinating to see where this leads.

Just as Augie decided he was ready to walk himself into school, ViMae has overcome her separation issues when we deliver her to preschool. Yesterday she hugged us and was gone in a flash. But earlier, when we mentioned that we planned to take turns driving her, as we did when just Augie went there, she let us know she likes both of us to come. As long as she feels that way, and since we both enjoy the experience, that’s exactly what we’ll do.

A whirlwind first hour, and a much calmer rest-of-the-day focused on one child instead of two. It’s all part of the new normal.

Adventures and adjustments

New adventures are good, but a little exhausting. We're all adjusting. :-)

That’s the closing line of Abby’s post summing up Augie’s first week of kindergarten and Vi’s first week without Augie as her constant companion. Each of them faced up to new challenges bravely, showing some emotion but pulling themselves together to get the job done. For the grownups who accompany them on these journeys, it tugs at the heart.

Augie faced serious butterflies before school Monday. He hadn’t slept much, couldn’t bring himself to eat, and was irritable and teary. Abby cuddled him, assuring him people do get nervous about big new things. He improved once he got dressed, but he wasn’t happy about posing for the obligatory first-day-of-school photo. When Abby said the pictures made him look dorky, she got a genuine laugh from both kids (and, I think, the world’s first non-dorky off-to-school photo).

At school, Augie held his mom’s hand for a long while and then said in a bright voice, “See you at the end of the day, Mom.” And when he bounded off the school bus eight hours later, he was grinning broadly and couldn’t wait to tell about his day.

At the end of the week, the teacher told Abby that Augie was doing great. “Today he read to me,” she said. He was reading book 8 of the Bone graphic novel series, so she got a good sense of both his ability and one of his great interests. His school, a St. Paul public school, is a Montessori-based magnet school, so we have high hopes for individualized experience.

At home after a full day of school, Augie is tired, and he indulges his need to be a kid without quite so many rules. But clearly he’s making the adjustment.

Meanwhile, ViMae is experiencing the biggest separation of her life. After delivering Augie to school Monday, she and her mom had a girls’ playdate. They made cookies and went to Vi’s favorite park, and while they had a nice time she said more than once that it would have been more fun with Augie there. (I love Abby's photo of Vi leaping at the park. This girl has spunk.)

Now that Augie is coming here before school, we make his needs the priority for that first hour. But after we get him off to school, every day is ViolaMae Day. We’ve taken her to breakfast and shopping at Michael’s, where she picked out a Disney Princess glitter-color kit (by the end of the day we both had glitter all over our faces). She and I went to the garden center and picked out mums for the yard and bulbs to be planted over the next few weeks. I just bought some sticker projects that I know she’ll love, and we have other Vi-centered activities planned. Once in a while she talks about Augie but like him, she’s trying to grow into her new role.

Still, we have witnessed their struggles. On Friday morning, Vi and I went along when Pa drove Augie to school, and we were all going in to see the layout. About 20 feet from the door, Augie suddenly froze. I thought maybe he was struggling with his heavy backpack, but when I looked closely at his face he seemed stunned. We kept asking questions, but as sometimes happens with his private thoughts, he ignored us. After 30 or 40 seconds, he simply moved on.  Peter and I think he was having a good time and then suddenly realized that while this was an outing for us, he wouldn’t be leaving when we did. He didn’t complain; he soldiered on. It fills my heart with pride, and pain. Change is hard.

For ViMae, the sadness hit at preschool. Her dad took her Wednesday afternoon, and when he tried to leave she burst into tears because Augie wasn’t there…even though they were never in the same classroom. When we took her Friday, she didn’t cry, but she returned again and again for prolonged hugs, until a teacher came over and sweetly asked Vi to come read a book together. It was just the invitation she needed, and she never looked back. Abby reports that later in the day Vi was running with some boys that have moved from Augie’s old room to Vi’s. They were playing Star Wars. She will know at least as much Star Wars trivia as they do, and she’ll be able to make up battle scenarios. It’s a match made in…Alderaan.

And it’s all part of the great new adventure.


(I borrowed all the photos from Abby's family blog.)

Can't we home-school him for a while?

It’s very quiet here today. We’re trying not to be sad. You see, it’s Augie’s first day of kindergarten; his mom took the day off work to escort him. It’s full-day kindergarten, not half-days like when we were kids. And that's the rub.

age 9 months, reading Moo Baa La-La-La

As grandparents who’ve had this child and his sister in our home five days a week, we always saw our role not as babysitting but as helping prepare these two terrific little people for life, and of course for school. We always knew today was coming, and we're happy for him. But the transition feels abrupt. No wonder moms cry with their little ones start school!

It could be worse. Augie’s going to be here for a little over an hour each morning before Grandpa drives him to school, and we’re thankful for that. But we’ll miss spending long, unstructured days with him.

The transition will be especially challenging for ViMae, who has one more year with us before she, too, starts school. Augie has been the center of her universe. Much of the time, the thing she most wants to be doing is whatever Augie is doing. We are looking forward to helping her discover her own interests and passions while she has our undivided attention. But just for the moment, we’re looking back.

age 2, pretend-baking

Last evening (Grandparent's Day at that) we went out to dinner and talked about how we’ve contributed to Augie’s development as the amazing little person he is. He has great parents—both teachers—who give the kids all kinds of attention and experiences. But it’s satisfying to know we’ve added a lot to the mix.

Our first priority was always to be sure the kids know they are loved—by their parents, by us, by their other grandparents and family members. When Augie was two, we were singing “Old MacDonald.” Augie sang, “And on the farm he had a Grandma.” I held my breath. What would Grandma say? “With an ‘I love you’ here, an ‘I love you’ there….”. I posted on Facebook, “My life is complete.”

age 3, with official umpire's cap

Peter introduced Augie to the alphabet early; before the child could talk he could point to any letter you asked for. And Augie always loved to be read to; you’d finish a book and he’d say “Again!” until you couldn’t do that one any more and he’d crawl over to get another. Today this boy walked into his first day at school able to read at a third- or fourth-grade level, if not higher. On Friday he fluidly read me this flyer: “Shockingly fast Internet…Connect any device anywhere in your home with wireless home networking options.” We all contributed, but we think basically Augie taught himself, using tools we provided.

When he was eight months old I handed him a baseball; by the end of the day he could roll it straight to me, every time. At two he batted buckets of balls off a tee every day and hit live pitching besides. At three he sat in the stands and called balls and strikes—accurately. At four he tried to learn to keep a scorebook. Last week at five he turned his back to the game and read a Star Wars book! You can provide opportunities; they decide what to love and when.

age 4, at drum set

Over the years we helped foster his passion for varied music—Peter and the Wolf, the Nutcracker, old-school drumming by Gene Krupa, rock classics by the Who and the Stones. He loves the dancing of Fred Astaire but emulates the dancing of Donald O’Connor in Singing in the Rain. He makes his own music on guitar, piano, harmonica, violin, and most of all drums. We showed him that music can be read but never pushed him. Last week he studied some sheet music and said aloud to himself, “This is going to be hard.” Then he placed both hands on the piano keys and played a lovely, gentle piece very different in style from anything he has tried before. The music is in him, and as he gets older I know he’ll find new ways to express it.

age 4, making salad with ViMae

If you’re still with me, pardon me for bragging. But I am astonished by the way a child’s mind can absorb and keep information. He knows the world’s major wild animals and keeps the carnivores away from the herbivores when setting up his Lego zoo. He can identify dozens of Minnesota birds, and knows the details of all 70 dragons in our Dragonvale game. He sets up fire scenarios with his massive Lego fire department, and plays them out with great attention to details that he has pulled together from many sources. He knows every character, battle, weapon, vehicle, planet, droid, and episode title in Star Wars, and in which order the episodes were made. He keeps several other fictional worlds spinning in his mind as well, including the Hobbit and the Bone graphic novels. With Star Wars and those other worlds, Augie is the one who teaches us, and he does it patiently, repeating information that Pa and I just can’t quite keep straight.

He’s a planner. He has talked for a year or more about having a smoothie shop, so I decided to help him develop a business plan. I thought it would be a cute thing to pull out some day after he’s forgotten all about it. Well, this kid dictated a plan that includes the layout, location, staffing, menu, target audience, and even the tools he’ll need to build the place. Pa sketched elevations and floor plans to Augie’s specifications, and I’ve made menus, both hand-written and typed. He’s frustrated that he hasn’t been able to get a contractor working on it yet. When a teacher assigns him a project, he’s likely to carry it out pretty thoroughly.

age 5, with new Lego fire plane

Friday was Augie’s last regular day here for daycare, and we celebrated with a new Lego fire plane and his favorite Chinese food for lunch. As he happily skipped out the back door at the end of the day, Abby said, “And so it begins.” As a teacher, she can envision for better or worse the process on which he is embarking. I didn’t tell her that I was thinking, “And so it ends.”

But it doesn’t end. We’ll still see him every morning, and other times as well, most likely. And we still have unfinished business.

On Friday, he told Peter, “You need to teach me all your life lessons before you die, so I can teach them to my grandson.”

Roosting under the tree

A couple of days ago, the kids were looking at our Christmas tree, spotting ornaments that have become familiar to them and ornaments that bear their own faces from years past.

That got Augie looking deep into the tree, admiring the way he could see lights far inside. And that led to the four of us plus Mali the cat lying under the tree for a view from underneath. Augie kept saying, "Color and light." It looked like this:

When their dad arrived to pick them up from our play date, we looked like this (and then he got under there, too):

We had talked about the fact that we usually stand the tree in a snowbank in the back yard and let birds roost in it while they wait to use the feeders. So Augie decided we were roosting under the tree.

Augie wondered why we had so many lights..."numberless," he called them. Yes, he knew that "numberless" means "too many to count." But then Pa said he knew exactly how many there were. Eight strings of 50 each makes 400. So they agreed that only the ornaments were numberless.

We'll have our tree for another week. Then, if we get more snow or figure out another way to stand the tree in the yard, it will serve as a roosting place for a few months. And then it will be spring!

Dancing our way through Christmas

Our grandkids love to dance. ViMae will tell you she wants to be a ballerina, and she can show you her best moves and her several tutus. She wanted to take classes, but around here you have to be four to enroll. So in the meantime, she twirls and spins and practices raising her leg to there. Augie joins in by grabbing her arm and swinging her around until one or both fall down. Then they laugh and do it again.

This fall Peter and I took them both to some free noontime presentations by the St. Paul City Ballet. The sessions graduated from barre exercises to snippets of a ballet-in-progress, and finally fully costumed excerpts from the company's holiday production. The Enchanted Toy Shop borrows some music from The Nutcracker; Augie recognized it as being from Disney's Fantasia. They love the Nutcracker Suite portion of Fantasia, and Augie can hear two notes of music and tell you exactly what it corresponds to--for example, the dancing mushrooms, the turnips, or his favorite, "the flowers that fall down over a waterfall."

We explained that the music was first written for a ballet, and the kids said they'd like to see it. Cue another great opportunity. A local dance school was presenting a 20-minute version of Act 2 of The Nutcracker at Rosedale Mall on Wednesday evenings before Christmas. We met the kids and their parents for dinner and then found the performance just as it began. The kids made a beeline for chairs up front and watched every step. This was no virtuoso performance, but it was up close and lively, and the kids thoroughly enjoyed it.

A few days later, we watched parts of two new DVDs--Act 2 of the Nutcracker followed by the corresponding segment of Fantasia. They loved both, and they danced around the den the whole time we were watching.

On Christmas morning at their house, The Nutcracker was playing as they opened gifts, and again they danced. Look at that picture of Augie, wearing his elf hat and red pajamas, dancing like the "action elf" he claims to be.

It will be some time before they are old enough to sit through a full-length performance, but a Christmas Nutcracker is definitely in their futures.

The importance of blueberries

Yesterday the children and I were reading, for the hundredth time, Little Cottontail. It's the story of a bunny who wants to be all grown up, but his mother says he must first learn many lessons. Among them:  how to wash himself, how to find food winter and summer, and how to avoid being caught by a fox.

We have often talked about that fox. Ask what he would do if he catches Little Cottontail, and ViMae says, "Chomp." We talk about children learning to watch for cars, to be careful when climbing, to listen when grownups warn them that something is dangerous.

We also talk about balance in nature. If the fox gets Little Cottontail, that's good for the fox, bad for the rabbit. If the rabbit eats the farmer's lettuce and carrots, good for the rabbit and bad for the farmer. ViMae once picked up a forkful of omelet and declared, "Good for me, bad for the egg."

Yesterday when we read that Little Cottontail's mother taught him to raid the farmer's vegetables and fruits, I made a comment, something like, "The farmer won't like it if the rabbits eat all his lettuce. We won't like it either, because we get our vegetables and fruit from the farmer."

Augie suddenly buried his head against me and wailed something about rabbits eating his blueberries. I thought he was joking, but then I realized he was crying real tears. I finally got it out of him: "I don't want the bunnies to eat all my blueberries." And then he was sobbing again.

I explained that the bunnies would never eat all the blueberries. I said bunnies don't even like blueberries. I said farmers have fences and other things to protect their crops. This boy who cheers for the bunny hero in a dozen different stories would pause for a moment and then cry again. "What if the bunnies eat all my blueberries!"

Here's the thing I didn't tell him. Blueberries are out of season, and they are getting very, very expensive. I still buy them because this boy loves them so, and because I have loved them ever since I was a child picking quarts of them alongside my family in the woods around our cabin. More recently I learned that blueberries are high in antioxidants, and they've even been called "brain food." That's an investment I'm willing to make.

In the summer when they are plentiful, we eat them by the handful with every meal. As they get more expensive we share a few with our oatmeal in the morning. But in the coldest months, when blueberries get to be $5 for a few ounces, I usually don't buy them.

Until now, that is. I may cut back on something else, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to be buying blueberries on a regular basis.

Meet Smaug the Dragon...and Bob the Builder

If you're a fan of The Hobbit, you know that Smaug is a dragon who spends a lot of time lying atop his enormous pile of stolen gold, until his chest is almost entirely encrusted with gold.

ViMae's Daddy has passed along his love of this story, and she decided to be Smaug for Halloween. "Maybe a nice Smaug," she says. Still, she wants to breathe fire and scare other children.

We started with a red hoodie and pants, and I built the whole costume on the hoodie.I posted some sneak peeks here.

She was very specific: There had to be gold, jewels, and long, "mean" wings. I bought stick-on jewels at the fabric shop and she applied them.

I glued some pointy wings to the sleeves of the hoodie and drew on them with a gold pen. (ViMae was planning to fly from door to door trick-or-treating; Pa and I were careful to tell her these wings are just pretend.)

She loves that the tail swings when she walks, and in this photo she is admiring the shadow of her spikes, wings, and claws. Pink claws.

Augie decided to be Bob the Builder. Not surprising for a kid who owns a full-size tool box, hammer, screwdriver, and metal measuring tape, and who spends lots of play time constructing roads, houses, zoos, castles, etc.

Peter and I scouted up the necessary garb including "work boots," and Peter fashioned a tool belt using his own father's WW II ammo belt.

Augie brought goggles and some toy tools. The minute he put on the goggles, he was the proudest builder in the universe. He kept them on for hours.

Our trial outing was to the library for story hour Thursday. We knew from last year that lots of children would be wearing costumes. (Pa was the only grownup wearing one: his red sweater and Santa hat.)

Friday evening, the kids and their mom and dad went to a preschool party. These two photos are from Mommy's blog: she reports that ViMae did a lot of fire-breathing, and Augie stayed in character all evening. No surprises there!

A comment on another blog said the real test of success for a costume is how the child feels wearing it.By that standard, these outfits seem to be a real success, and it's the most fun I've ever had celebrating Halloween.

October adventures

A stretch of Mississippi River that divides Minneapolis and St. Paul residential areas is breath-taking in its autumn colors this year. With Vi and Augie, we drove along St. Paul's East River Road and stopped at this overlook.

The kids enjoyed the color, but they were disappointed that we couldn't climb down the bluffs to the water.

But...we visited another part of the river, where it curves around downtown St. Paul (or vice versa). We took a picnic lunch to Harriet Island, played at the playground, and walked along the river to look at buildings, boats, ducks, and minnows.

The playground includes this impressionistic sternwheeler meant for kids to climb.   

Under the plastic slides and bridges of today's playground equipment are cozy spaces where Augie "opens a restaurant" and serves me lunch. Today's pretend menu was potstickers and lo mein.

A highlight of the day came during our picnic, when Augie pointed to the sky and shouted, "Look! An eagle!" Sure enough, he'd spotted a bald eagle soaring above the Mississippi. It circled slowly above us, and in the noonday sun its white head gleamed against the deep blue sky. Alas, it returned downstream before I managed to get my camera out.

Peter and I have scouted a few Twin Cities bird-watching spots, hoping to find a place that the kids can enjoy. At Harriet Island yesterday, we learned that it only takes one really good bird to make an outing a success. Extra points for playgrounds and colored leaves.

King(let) of the forest

Conversation a few days ago between hubby and our four-year-old grandson, Augie:

Click photo to read about this bird on BirdForum

Peter: Come look at the tiny bird on the suet feeder. It's a little like a finch, but it has a red streak on its head.

Augie: It's a ruby-crowned kinglet.

Peter: No, I think a kinglet is some kind of water bird.

Augie (emphatically): No, a ruby-crowned kinglet is a coniferous forest bird.

Peter (skeptically): Get your bird book; let's see what it says.

Augie: See, right here, it's a ruby-crowned kinglet.

And that's exactly what it was.

So now we've met a whole new variety of bird, a tad bigger than a hummingbird and less efficient at hovering. It is passing through on its migration northward. Males do have a reddish patch, but much of the time it is flat to their heads and cannot be seen.

I've been trying to get a shot of this active little guy, but so far he hasn't stayed around long enough. Photographing a ruby-crowned kinglet is now on my bucket list (I have simple wants). Meanwhile, I borrowed a photo from BirdForum.

You can't always get what you want...

Augie turned four last weekend.

Four is a great age, at least if you're a parent or caregiver. Kids are developing their personalities and their passions, they still have most of their innocence, and they are (mostly) getting past the tantrum stage so they can be reasoned with.

Augie had once told me, "Grandma, it's hard to be three." And it was. Suddenly he had to be thinking constantly about getting to the potty on time, no matter where he was or how much fun he was having. Also, his little sister, just 15 months younger, was graduating from baby toys to whatever he had at the moment. He had to learn to share, and to "Be nice to your sister."

This week, just after his birthday, I asked whether it was better being four, and he said, "Sure," which sometimes means, "I'm not wasting time thinking about that."

I'm no expert in psychology, but I know that at some point - and for me it was as a four-year-old - we realize that our parents cannot meet all our needs and wants, that the world is not perfect, that we are not guaranteed perfect love and success. How and when this hits us determines what our issues will be in later life. For example, some of us will crave unconditional love (love me for being who I am) while others will crave approval (love me for doing what I do). I don't know all the theory behind this, but I believe it. Peter says the trick is to help children come to grips with these realities without totally crushing their spirits.

Yesterday we were watching a few short videos on YouTube with Augie and Vi. As usual, Augie wanted more. We said no, it was time to go and play, and we started naming possibilities - play the drums, do some tap dancing, play with Legos, color, make sticker pictures, pound some nails, and on and on. He wasn't having any of it. He cried and carried on and buried his head in his hands. Then he looked up.

"Pa," he wailed, "Why can't we have whatever we want in life?"

There it was. The Question. Not just, "Why can't I do what I want to"? but "Why can't I have whatever I want in life?"

I gathered him into my lap and said that sometimes we want things that aren't good for us, and sometimes we want things that just aren't possible. I was on the verge of telling him the secret is finding happiness with what you  have. And yes, we and his parents will all tell (and show) him that.

But I stopped talking, and for the next half-hour we just sat and cuddled. Eventually he got interested in something his sister was doing and went off to play.

Later, during quiet time, I heard him singing softly to himself. "It's hard to be three. It's hard to be four...five, six, seven...." He counted up to twenty-something before he trailed off. He didn't sound especially upset, just interested and processing a new idea.

I don't want it to be hard to be four. But we can't always get everything we want.

So we'll have to set about being happy with what we have. And that's a lot.

Swimming with the clownfish

Nemo and his dad

Some weeks ago Peter and I watched Finding Nemo with the kids. I had forgotten how stressful the movie is, as a little ocean-dwelling clownfish takes on hostile species as well as natural and man-made barriers to find his tiny son.

But the successes of small fish against daunting obstacles have inspired imaginative play on the part of Augie and ViMae.

Today we were all sitting on the bed. At first the bed was a boat surrounded by water. We pretended to catch a series of fishy types.

Augie: "I'm reeling in a killer whale, better watch out."

Vi: "I'm reeling in a sting ray, don't let it sting you." (Throwing self on bed) "I'm crushing it."

Augie again: "I'm reeling in a clownfish. He's telling jokes." I burst out laughing. He continues: "Too many jokes. Throw him back." Clearly Nemo and his dad have no special privileges here.

After a while, the kids decided to "dive into the water." Augie gave instructions: "We'll swim through the jelly fish but stay on top so they can't sting us. Then swim through the wall of bubbles, then race to the...." By then he was talking faster than we could follow. And they were off, leaping off the bed and swim/crawling as fast as they could across the room, down the hall, and back. They'd clamber aboard the bed/boat and immediately scramble off again.

It's interesting to see how the struggles and successes of a couple of clownfish and their friends can empower children's imaginations. 

One last picnic lunch

"You know what, Pa?" said Augie last Monday, "It's a great day for a picnic!" It was in the 60s and sunny, and he was right. Tuesday was equally nice, and we did it again. The sun is low in the sky even at noon, and every few minutes another flock of geese flew over, announcing the end of summer. It turned colder Wednesday, and tonight it has begun to snow.

It was a fabulous October, and November opened without its usual bluster. I'm glad we celebrated the turning of the seasons. Any picnics will have to be indoors for the next six months or so.

Wednesday's Word: Blogiversary

Yesterday (August 17) was the one-year anniversary of my blog. My first post was photos of the grandkids at a Saints game. To celebrate, here are some new pix of the kids at the ballpark.

Augie has made friends with the umpires, and the crew chief recently invited him to join the umpire crew as they rubbed mud on the balls before the game. (Yes, the balls come shiny in the box and have to be rubbed with special mud to take the shine off.) He has no idea what an honor that is, or how unusual it is for umpires to emerge onto the field, turn to the stands, and call, "Hi, Augie!" Not only that, they gave him an official American Association umpire's cap.

On the same evening, ViMae was invited to carry balls out to the umpire. One of the Saints' traditions is that each year a new trained pig totes balls to the umpire. On occasion a fan gets to do the job; Augie's done it a few times. ViMae was wearing her new tutu (which I had just made) and the pig wore his tutu, and they were both very cute. (I'll post a better shot of the tutu another day.)

Wednesday's Word: Dapper

In the book Fancy Nancy's Favorite Fancy Words, from Accessories to Zany, D is for "Dapper."

Augie enjoys all word books, even one that includes "fiasco," "parasol," and "xenophile." His familiarity with "dapper" came in handy in persuading him to dress up for Auntie Becca's wedding this past week.

He has a decided preference for wearing only graphic t-shirts. No stripes, no polos, no button-shirts. I bought him some dress-up duds anyway--a shirt, vest, and pants outfit, which I figured would be more comfortable than a suit.

He told me he only wanted "regular clothes." We let it ride. A bit later Peter said, "Augie, I've got something to show you." Peter held the pants against Augie's waist and coaxed, "Put your hands in the pockets. Look, now you're cool like the big guys." A little grin appeared. I said, "These are your cool dapper clothes." The grin got a little bigger.

ViolaMae didn't have to be sold. She loves dresses, and dancing. She swirls and twirls and announces, "My dress is going around."

Mommy and Daddy got both children into dapper clothes for the rehearsal dinner and the wedding, and they looked--well, dapper, as you can see!

P.S. Yup, black eye. She fell down a flight of stairs a week before the wedding, but made a quick recovery from her nasty bumps and bruises. 

Wednesday's Word: Adorable

Bonus word: Determined.

For her birthday, ViMae got this pretty dress from Nana Ellyn and Papa Kenny. The next day she was already wearing a cute outfit when she spotted the new dress and said, "Mommy, wear beautiful dress. Take off ViMae's pants. Take off ViMae's shirt. Take off ViMae's socks. Put on beautiful dress." She repeated her request in exactly those words several times, until, her Mommy says, "I finally caved." (The hat was strictly an afterthought.)