Disneyland: Finally Made It

Disney Day One. I don't know if I could have asked for a more perfect picture to sum up our family. (A huge thank you to Brett for taking all of the pictures on the trip. You're the best.) Traci, Paige, and I are all pretty happy to be at the Happiest Place on Earth. Tate is trying to escape his stroller. And Curtis is refusing to be in the picture. 

Despite how it looked, we were pleasantly surprised by how good our kids were. 

Curtis refused to go on any ride that was either in the dark (Star Tours) or required you to walk through a dark room to get to the ride (just about every other ride). But he was pretty excited about the tea cups and the Astro Orbiter. I had to drag him onto the Buzz Lightyear ride, but once he saw that we got to shoot guns, he was hooked. The line was always short, so we went on it about 10 times. 

Paige was happy with pretty much everything that we did. Of course she loved meeting Minnie Mouse and Merida from Brave. But I was surprised that she liked Star Tours so much and that she was willing to go on Space Mountain with Traci. She even sat through all of Jedi Training. (I wish I could have coerced my kids to go on stage.)

Tate was my real worry. For months I'd had visions of him screaming through every line or thrusting himself out of the dumbo car. But he did really well. He'd get a little inpatient with all of the time in the stroller, but he loved being on the rides. While I was busy trying not to throw up on the teacups, Tate was saying, "Wee, wee, weeeee!" He'd get mad every time a ride ended and we unstrapped his seat belt. 

And the best part was that he'd just crash in his stroller at nap time. 

We even made it to Captain EO, where Paige gave my favorite quote of the day. Right after Michael Jackson made his debut, she leaned over to Traci and asked, "Mom, is that a boy or a girl?"

One day down. No disasters, meltdowns, or freakouts. Whew. 

Disneyland: Almost There

After the eight hour drive to Primm, the three-and-a-half hours to Anaheim was no problem at all. Likewise, after the crap-tastic stay at Whiskey Pete's, we couldn't have been more pleased with the Park Vue Inn. It was right across the street from the entrance to Disneyland, the people were nice, and the room was clean.

The girls are happy to be in the hotel and out of the car

The kids were really excited to see that, just like at home, the room had a bunk bed. We were excited, too, because it meant they wouldn't be fighting with each other in the bed, and no one would be sneaking into our bed. (Now if we only had a place with a separate room for Tate, to keep him from poking his little head out of the pack-n-play at 3:00 a.m. and smiling at us...)

The magic of the bunk bed wore off quickly, however. We'd been in the room about two seconds when Curtis and Paige were both trying to clamor up the ladder and Curtis fell off.

From the way he was screaming and holding his arm (and not letting anyone touch it), we were worried that he had broken it--before the trip even started. Fabulous.

Curtis, safely on the lower bunk, pre-fall

Though Curtis' injury prevented him from making it to the pool, he was back in action in time to go to Downtown Disney. And it's a good thing, too. He got to see his favorite Avenger, the Hulk (or Hul-luck as Curtis pronounces it) in Lego form.

How could Disneyland get any better?

Disneyland: The Drive

At the top of my list of concerns about the trip to Disneyland was the car ride. I had prepared myself for hours and hours of Tate's screaming, but I wasn't ready for the elements. We woke up to several inches of snow in Salt Lake, with more coming down. But we soldiered on.

Fortunately, the snow slowed down once we hit Utah County. The roads were clear and the kids were being good (even Tate). How could be so lucky?

And then the snow came back.

In between Fillmore and Beaver, things got really bad. We crawled along the unplowed roads, just trying to stay in the tracks of the semi in front of us. Though it was slow going, we made it through. Unlike some of the trucks on the other side of the freeway.

We made a pitstop in Beaver before heading to Mesquite and then on to Primm, Nevada where we had a room reserved at the luxurious Whiskey Pete's Hotel and Casino.

The casino was smokey and dirty, the service was bad, and the room was gross, but we had no reason to complain. The kids did better in the car than we ever could have hoped.

We celebrated by taking the monorail from Whiskey Pete's to the McDonald's at the Buffalo Bill's across the street. They of, course, thought that was awesome.

Disneyland, here we come.

Going to Disneyland...Again?

It was nine months in the making. Back in February, we were having a casual dinner with our friends the Bawdens. The ladies were reminiscing about our respective trips to Disneyland and then next thing I knew, schedules were being checked, dates verified, and plans made. By the time we paid the check, we were going to Disneyland with the Bawdens. What just happened here?

While Traci was basking in the warm glow of Disney memories, I was remembering the realities of our trip 15 months earlier: Curtis, throwing a fit on the flight to Anaheim. Curtis, up all night in the hotel, throwing bottles of chocolate milk at us. Curtis, throwing fits in the park. Curtis, crying the entire flight home, chucking canisters of Pringles at me as he bawled.

The thought of repeating that experience--with the addition of an 18-month-old who also likes to cry and throw stuff and plans to drive instead of fly, made me wary to say to the least.

What were we getting ourselves into?

The First Loose Tooth

The way I see it, the transition from little kid to big kid happens when baby teeth start falling out. Gone are the cute little smiles, and in come the awkward, braces-are-inevitable, too-big teeth. I've silently wanted Paige to keep her little kid status as long as she can.

Paige, however, was sooo excited when one of her teeth started wiggling.

When I saw Paige's dainty tooth-twisting, I had a feeling I'd eventually have to get in there and give it a yank. Given my aversion to, and queasiness from, all things body-related, I wasn't quite sure I'd be able to do it.

Luckily, I didn't have to.

I was spending a rainy and cold morning working at the Downtown Farmers Market when Traci sent me this picture. Paige was at her soccer game when her 18-year-old aunt asked her if she wanted her to pull her tooth out. Paige nodded in the affirmative.

With one swift tug, Paige had become a big kid.

Smiling with a broad, bloody smile, she walked over to get her team picture taken.

She was still smiling when I got home from work. "Dad, I read in Junie B. Jones that when you lose a front tooth, you become a big kid."

"Yeah, I think Junie's probably right," I replied.

Paige couldn't stop smiling. Later than day, I caught her smiling at herself in our bedroom mirror. "Dad," she said, stretching her neck out as high as she could, "do you think I look taller?"

"Yes. Way taller."

She smiled some more.

I love my big kid.

Hello, Peyton Manning

By half time, the Broncos were down 24-0. It looked like this trip to San Diego was just going to be a series of defeats.

The first loss had happened just a few hours earlier.

Upon the recommendation of the girl at the car rental place, Bert and I headed to Nicky Rottens for lunch.

 

This menu item immediately caught Bert's attention. Clean your plate in an hour an the meal was on the house (plus a free t-shirt and your name on the Hall of Fame board).

Bert couldn't resist.

"Two-and-a-half pounds of meat? That doesn't sound like that much."
And with that, he accepted the Ultimate Challenge.

(It wasn't until I explained that was like eating six quarter pounders in one sitting that he seemed at all doubtful of his skills, but by then it was too late.)



While it's possible to imagine six quarter pounders, it's more difficult to picture two-and-a-half pounds of meat in between what was basically two decent-sized loaves of sourdough bread. Oh, and apparently Bert didn't read enough of the fine print to know that the fries were also included in the challenge.

The waitress set the one-hour clock, rang the opening bell, and wished Bert well.

He needed more than luck.

Bert gave it the old college try, but after a half hour of work, he'd barely even put a dent in the burger. This was as far as he got.

No t-shirt. No name on the big board. And no free meal (just a $25 bellyache). Talk about a disappointment.

But the game was going to make up for the burger mishap. Bert had scored us sweet tickets on the 11th row. Even better, we were surrounded by tons of orange-shirted Bronco fans who were hyped and ready.

The Denver fans, however, quickly grew silent. Fumbles on two straight kicks. Payton Manning and the boys consistently going three and out. 24 straight first half Charger points.

There was nothing to do but stand, cross-armed, and take it as the drunken home crowd jeered and taunted. We came all all this way for this?

Luckily, games have two halves.

Fumble recoveries. Interceptions. Manning running the hurry-up offense, changing calls at the line, threading the needle. Touchdown, touchdown, touchdown. Broncos fans come back to life. Touchdown, touchdown.  35 unanswered second half points! Bronco fans go crazy. Charger fans slink away in disgust.

With about two minutes left, the home crowd started heading for the exits. The Denver fans stuck around, leaving a sea of orange beyond. With all of the singing and cheering, it was like the Broncos were the home team.

It looked at sounded a bit like this.




And it felt awesome.

By this point it was about 10:00 p.m. Bert looked at me and told me he was a little hungry.

Hello, John Elway

I've loved the Denver Broncos as long as I can remember.

I was John Elway for Halloween for like three straight years.

When I was seven, I sat in my room and cried after the Broncos lost the (first of three) Super Bowl(s).

In the fourth grade, I tried to change my named to John Elway. My teacher thwarted this plan when she said, "It looks like John Elway got 100% on his spelling test. It's too bad there isn't a John Elway in this class," and then ripped the paper in half.

I have never been to a Broncos game.

Tomorrow that will change.

Peyton Manning is no John Elway, but I'll take it.

San Diego here I come.

Ice Cream

I'm a mean dad. But it's no match for a smart daughter.

I never buy my kids anything from the ice cream truck. My standby excuse is, "I didn't bring my wallet" or simply, "We don't have enough money."

Last night, I told the kids I would take them to the park to play soccer. As usual, after we got all of the kids loaded into the van (always an extraordinary task), Paige suddenly "remembered" that she had forgotten something in the house. When she came back, she had her purse with her.

"I'm bringing my purse in case we see the ice cream man because we always forget to bring our money."

"Good idea," I said, though I doubted that the ice cream man would still be wandering around at 8 o'clock at night at the end of September.

I was wrong.

We'd only been at the park for a few minutes when a stirring instrumental version of Rockabye Baby came blaring out of the little ice cream truck. Paige bolted. And when the ice cream man didn't slow down, she ran. And ran. About 300 hundred yards later, she caught up to him.

"Daaaaaaaaaaaad! Come on!!!"

I  finally caught up. We shelled out $3 for two little ice cream sandwiches.

Paige couldn't have been more pleased.

She'd outsmarted me. Once again.

The face of victory

Sharing in the spoils

Just happy to be part of the team

Busted, Mr. Camera Shy

At some point in his life, Curtis is going to ask us why there are no photos of his third and fourth year of life. We will then explain to him that he did everything in his power to avoid having his picture taken. And then he'll see that the pictures that do exist show an ornery little boy who would never give his parents the satisfaction of even a little smile.

That's why this picture is such a gem.

Curtis took it himself, with the phone that he stole from me. And though you can't see his mouth, his eyes give him away. He's smiling

A Visit to Utah's Hat

I have always wanted to leave Utah and have some grand adventure in New York or Boston or Amsterdam or wherever. But with no master's degree or job transfer or anything else pulling us away, it seems crazy to leave all of the good stuff that we've got here--the cousins and grandmas and Chuck a Ramas.

I have never had big dreams of moving to Idaho (or Utah's hat, as I like to call it), but my work just opened an office in Boise. I haven't been asked to transfer there or anything, but I can't help but wonder if it might be an excuse to pack up and strike out on our own.

Laste week, I spent 48 glorious hours in the state, driving back and forth between Boise and Twin Falls. I was hoping to fall in love. To find a city that had just been waiting for me.

Nope.

Boise was kind of just a smaller Salt Lake, with fewer mountains and trees (and if you take away those two things, what do you have left? They did, however, have a Chuck a Rama.). 

So I guess we'll just stick around here.

--

This wonderful tune by Built to Spill has been stuck in my head since last week.

Farewell, Summer

Curtis' favorite part of the Wheeler Farm

Paige enjoying nature

Never trust Tate with a stick of any kind

Summer. As it quickly as it came, it ended. I think Traci was more than a little overwhelmed by the thought of finding something to entertain three kids every day for three straight months. But she did it.

Paigey heads off to first grade tomorrow; Curtis will start his second year of preschool after Labor Day. And Tate will get lots of one-on-one time with Mom, once he gets rid of the other two. (Paige and Curtis have become super-good buddies over the summer. I think he's going to be pretty sad to be on his own for the next week. Tate, though good for a laugh or two, has not yet proven to be a good hang out buddy. Mostly because he spends all of his time smashing everything and pulling Curtis' hair.)

For how fast it flew by, we certainly managed to shove a lot of fun into the last three months: a couple of trips to the ranch (where Paige learned how to kayak by herself), a trip to St. George, two weeks of swimming lessons, a couple of Blaze games, a couple of Bees games, (no RSL games because they were sold out on Tuesday; I had to settle for a rain check), a handful of visits to Tracy Aviary, a sleepover at Grandma's (while Traci and I celebrated our 10-year anniversary), a day at Jungle Jim's, an afternoon bowling at Fat Cats, and on and on.

As I look back at the list, I'm starting to think my kids are a little spoiled. Or maybe we've gotten the most out of our Pass of All Passes. Or we just get a little stir crazy when we're trapped in our house all day.

But now it's time to go back to school.

What a drag.

Proud of Both My Girls

Paige continues to progress in piano land. (Her latest round of practicing has been motivated by her desire to earn a Rapunzel wig, an accomplishment that she finally achieved.) All of the credit goes to Traci, who does all of the fighting practicing with her. And at here last recital, she got to do the performing with her, too.

On the way to performance Paige said, "Uh, I feel a little nervous."

"Sometimes I get a little nervous, too," Traci said. "But when I feel nervous, I just take a deep breath before I start to play."

"I don't have to take a deep breath," Paige replied.

"Well, you don't have to," Traci said. "But you can if you want. It just helps you to feel calm."

When it came time to play, Paige marched right up there and did her thing. She did a great job on the first song. She struggled a little bit during her duet with Traci, however, because she got distracted by the two little boys goofing off on the front row. (I wanted to smack them in the back of the head, but a recital is, you know, a classy thing, so I couldn't.) But she still did a great job.

Here's the video:

(Traci also did a duet with her little sister Makell. I have a video of that, too, but I think shy-performer Traci would be embarrassed about me posting it.)

On the way home, Paige said triumphantly, "I didn't even have to take a deep breath before I started playing!"

I guess we don't need to give Paige any tips about dealing with anxiety.

A Weekend in Dixie

It was sunny and 93 in Salt Lake today. And it felt like a refreshing oasis. 

We just got back from our annual fun-with-Traci's-family trip to St. George where it was a cool 110 degrees each day.

Despite the heat, it was a nice little getaway. When I told Paige that, despite her repeated requests, we probably wouldn't be going to Fiesta Fun to play miniature golf in the midday sun, she complained, "All we do is go to the pool, go to splash pad, go to the pool, go to the splash pad." Yep, that's we do in St. George in August.

And the kids had a great time doing it. (Literally) right before we headed to St. George, Paige finished up her swimming lessons (level I for the third time; she refuses to put her head in the water) and was ready to show off her new skillz in St. George. I don't know what finally clicked, but by the end of the trip, she was swimming around, unassisted, like a little fish. She was even jumping in and putting her head under the water!

Curtis continued to be shy every time he was out of the kiddie pool (he was also signed up for swimming lessons but refused--for two full weeks--to get in the water). But not Tate. To our dismay, he'd dive right in and randomly decide to stick his whole head in the water to blow bubbles. It's a miracle that he survived the entire trip.

Paige's observations about our daily schedule were not entirely correct. In addition to the swimming and splash pad-ding, we also made it to the dollar movies twice. My date with Paige to Madagascar III was actually my favorite part of the whole trip. Paige was hooked from the first scene--laughing, dancing. shouting at the bad guy (er, bad lady). And when Katy Perry's Firework (Paige's jam) kicked in right at the movie's climax, I could see she was in heaven.

I slacked in the photo department, but here are a few pics:

Curtis feeling victorious at the splash pad (probably because he just discovered the joy of sitting directly on the fountain)

Tate's true baby vampire identity is revealed

Two minutes later Tate, completely unprovoked, stole his cousin's binki right out of her mouth and shoved it in his own (and he doesn't even like binkis)

Curtis and his cousin get a little tech time--Curt watching Power Rangers on the iPad, and Maika playing Angry Birds on the Kindle

Paige is also rocking some vampire teeth

Tate discovering that it's nice to be back in Salt Lake

 

Poor Barbie

Curtis and his cousin Maika were having a grand old time at Grandma's house, launching Ken dolls across the room.

The next thing I knew, Curtis was standing there with a leg-less Ken (and a guilty look on his face) and Maika's doll was missing its head.

I couldn't let them get away with destroying the toys, but it was tough to keep a straight face as I said, "Boys, if you break the toys again, I'm going to take them away and you want get to play with the Barbies any more!"

I know. Tough but fair.

Days Go By

Curtis is smart, but not that smart. Tonight we had this conversation:

Curtis: Dad, is today Monday?

Me: No, it's Wednesday. What day comes after Monday?

Curtis: Tuesday.

Me: What day comes after Tuesday?

Curtis: Wednesday.

Me: What day comes after Wednesday?

Curtis: June.

Me: June? No, Thursday.

We've still got some work to do.

Fashion Twins

There are a lot of parents that like to dress their kids up just like them. Turns out, I just want to dress like my kids.

After wearing the same pair of brown shoes for, I dunno, seven years or so, I decided it was time to buy some new ones.

I chose what I thought was a pretty sharp pair, tried them on, and then showed them off to Traci.

"Nice. They're the exact same shoes that Curtis wears to church."

Indeed, they were.

Either Curtis dresses like a fashion-less 30-year-old or I am very hip four-year-old.

A Pretty Good Day for a Four-Year-Old Boy

It would have been impossible to predict how things could have gotten better than they already were. Curtis was pretty excited to get up close and personal with Grave Digger in the parking lot of a Cricket store in West Valley. (That's even better than going to an actual monster truck show, when your four-year-old ears don't like loud noises.)


















Things only got better when we came back home and this cement mixer was at our neighbor's house. Curtis spent the next hour in the front yard, taking in all the action.

How could you ask for a better day?

Tate Taken by Carney, Parents Don't Seem to Mind

We were just standing there, minding our own parent-ly business, when the ride operator reached over the metal gates and said, "I'll take him, too." The next thing we knew, we had just handed our 14-month-old child to a complete stranger, who then put him in a moving vehicle.

And Tate loved every second of it.

This was our second visit to Taylorsville Dayzz (extra z's means extra awesome), the Fourth of July celebration in our lovely city. Paige and Curtis were very excited to go on the little carnival rides. We hadn't planned on Tate riding along as well, but when a carney takes your kid, what are you going to do, right?

Curtis was in heaven, with all of the car and motorcycle-themed merry-go-rounds. Paige bravely (and without prompting) ventured into big-kid land, going on the Tidal Wave-esque ride all by herself. She looked a little unsettled when she first got strapped in--and a little queasy when the ride took off--but she hung in there like a champ. Tate would have liked to go on more rides, but we made him spend the rest of the evening in the stroller. (Next year, buddy.)

Video Link

In West Philadelphia, Born and Raised

I'll admit it. I'm an anxious traveler. I don't get airsick or worry that the plane is going to crash into the Pacific or anything like that. Mostly, I worry about being late for my flight and I ALWAYS worry about getting lost in a new city. The latter concern seems valid, given that I have absolutely no sense of direction.

I went to Philadelphia a couple of weeks ago for a work conference. I was excited about the chance to visit a new city, especially on the company's dime. However, I was a little concerned when I found out I was going by myself.

But I figured I'd be okay. I'd arrive at the airport, take a taxi the hotel, go to the conference at the hotel, and possibly venture out to the nearby touristy attractions. Easy.

Well, the hotel was sold out, so I was assigned a rental car. Great. Armed with my printed Google maps, my car GPS, and the MapQuest app on my phone, I reasoned I could competently navigate from the airport to the hotel.

Sitting in the terminal in Salt Lake, waiting on my 6:00 a.m. flight to Philadelphia (which meant I left my house around 4 a.m. Seriously.), I saw another dude from my work. It turns out he was speaking at the same conference. He booked early, so he had a room at the hotel where the conference was being held. I told him that since I had a car, I could easily drop him off at his hotel before heading to mine, which was about a mile away.

Once we got the rental car, I glanced at the printed Google map. The route seemed easy enough. A couple of rights before getting on the freeway, then a few more turns and we'd be at the hotel. I turned on the phone navigator and we got on our way.

The phone app didn't have me get on the freeway at all. It took me straight through the city. As in, right through the city. As in, when I stopped at red lights every 30 feet, I noticed the women's skirts were more zebra-printed and more sparkly and generally more prostitute-y than in Salt Lake.

I was happy to have a traveling partner. If I hadn't I may still be waiting to turn left right now.

"In 2-40 yards, turn left," said the navigator.

I obediently moved into the left lane behind a line of cars.

The light turned green, and then yellow, and then red. I was still in the same spot.

"Uh," said my copilot. "Are there people in the cars a head of us?"

Who would have thought that people in Philadelphia use the middle lane of the road for parking and not for turning left?

Yes, I am not good at finding my way. But we made it safely to the hotel. Eventually. 

---


It was a good trip. Traci not-so-secretly hates when I go out of town for work, not just because she's forced to be a single parent (something I feel quite bad about), but mostly because she thinks I'm getting to have a family-free vacation. I, of course, ensure that it's a work trip.



That said, I had a great work time getting my American history on, visiting the Liberty Bell (yep, it's a bell with a crack in it) and the Betsy Ross house (well, the gift shop. I didn't want to pay $12 to go in). I ate some Cuban food and a Philly cheese steak  (not in the same meal). I sat in the hotel hot tub and watched some NBA playoff games. Oh, and I made it to a Phillies game, which was the highlight of the trip.

My dear friend RB now lives in Pennsylvania. He drove two-and-a-half hours to Philadelphia, and then another hour in traffic from the freeway exit to my hotel, just to hang out and watch the game with me. (I bought him a sandwich at the stadium, so that's probably a fair trade.)



I met RB in my MTC dorm room. It's reassuring to know that 13 years and seven kids later, RB and I both just as unsure about what we want to be when grow up as we were in the MTC. (Shhh, don't tell our wives.) It was great to see him.
--
The drive back to the airport (at 5 a.m. on a Saturday morning), was beautifully uneventful (we decided to take the freeway). With the two hour time difference, I was back in time for the kids' soccer games. It was like I had never left.

Sick Day

Paige has the stomach bug. No fun for a little girl and no fun for the parents who are trying to avoid having a house full of sick kids. Hence, Paige is quarantined in our bedroom.

Paige is very concerned that despite her condition, Curtis will still want to play with her. She's devising plans to prevent this from happening.

"I know," she says at the start of a brilliant idea. "Let's tell Curtis that there's a fire in mom's room."

"He'll say, 'Oh, no! A fire!'" she says excitedly, imitating his voice. "'I don't want to get burned up and die!'"

Seems like a failproof plan. 

It Was Bound to Happy Sooner or Later

The dynamic duo

When you give a six-year-old her own camera, you have to know that this is going to happen eventually:

Traci walked into the family room to find Paige holding the camera and Curtis standing in front of her, bare bum cheeks in the air.

A new house rule was then introduced. No taking pictures of naked bums.

Tough, but fair.

Who Gets My Vote? Mitt Romney or Aziz Ansari?

Today, Facebook recommended that I like two pages (apparently because of the things I write about on Facebook): Mitt Romney and Aziz Ansari. I like to imagine only being able to choose one.

What should I do? What should I do?

Choose the guy with the great hair?

Or the guy who's on my favorite show (Parks & Rec) and who did this incredibly funny (and completely swear-filled) stand up routine about his cousin Harris.

Sorry, Mitt.

P.S. The drinking fountain episode of Parks & Rec is my absolute favorite.

A Kindergartner No More

Paige needed to wear her fanciest dress for the last day of school

 We were scared to death to watch Paige get on the bus and head off to all-day kindergarten. But it didn't seem to faze her at all.

I'm pretty sure that Paige has loved every minute of kindergarten, from having THREE RECESSES! to getting to read her favorite book, Junie B. Jones, in front of the class, to playing Mario and Luigi at recess with the boys (she was always Princess Peach--she loves getting rescued).

We were happy when we found out that she had tested into the Advanced Reader program for first grade. The only drawback is that it's at another school in the district. (I'm sure Traci will be ecstatic to drive her to and from school every day next year.) So as far as friends and lunch lines and surroundings go, she'll be starting over.

We were worried that she would be upset when we told her the news, but she didn't seem to mind.

"Will I still get to go on the bus?" was her first question.

"No, sweetie. But we've met your new teacher and she's really excited to meet you and you'll get to make a lot of new friends!"

"Okay. I won't miss Oquirrh Hills," she added frankly.

So that was that.

And summer begins.

Congraduation

Curtis is not gonna do nuthin for no one. You want him to sing along at his last-day-of-preschool program? Nope. You want him to do the little dance about the countries of the world? Uh-uh. Smile for a picture? Forget about it.

Despite his generally contrarian demeanor, he secretly loved his first year of preschool. He loves playing at the "block center" (where you play with blocks, clever title), eating snacks, and being around Mischa, the girl I think he has a crush on.

I can't believe how quickly the school year has flown by. Seems like it was just his first day of school.

After his program ended, I had to head straight back to work. On my way back, I sent a little text message to Traci to read to him (yes, I send my kids texts) telling him I was proud of him and that I loved him.

Traci's response--"That made Curtis roll his eyes and smack himself in the face."

That's my boy.

Little Buddies

 

A miracle happened this year. Paige and Curtis became friends.

At some point, Curtis stopped being a constant annoyance to Paige and became someone who would indulge her in all of her grand schemes--whether it was turning their bedroom into a retail store (where every single thing in the room needed to be pulled out its drawer and labeled with a price tag) or staging plays where Paige is always the princess. 

Though almost every interaction still ends in Curtis "not following the rules" or him hitting her with something, there are long stints where they get along just fine (and give mom and a dad a much needed break).

Paige loves to dote on Tate, but for the most part, he's just a bother to Curtis. He steals his trucks and turns off the Wii and crawls up on my lap anytime Curtis is trying to use that real estate. But when they're in the wagon, they are friends.

As I pull them through the neighborhood, I love to hear Tate giggle as Curtis entertains him with fake burps and other bodily functions. I can't wait for the boys to be buddies.

Parrots

 

I don't know if Paige's class is ready for the awesomeness of her report on her favorite animal, the parrot (because it starts with P, just like her name.)

The Boy Hears What He Wants To

Me: (Shouting from the kitchen to the family room) Curtis, it's time to put on your jammies!

Curtis: What?

Me: It's time to put on your jammies!

Curtis: WHAT?

Me: PUT ON YOUR JAMMIES!!!

Curtis: (Running excitedly up the stairs) Where's my candy?

Me: What?

Curtis: You said it was time to eat some candies.

Me: Yes, I'm standing here, holding these pajamas, and shouting at you because I REALLY want you to have some candy. Go to bed.