Just add food coloring

Today Jackson pulled out some food coloring from the cabinet and was ready for a project. Inspired by that TLC show "18 and counting" (you know the family with 18 kids or something), I took on that challenge. I'm not sure of the specifics, but I think these people and their kids built their own steel-framed house. This is at least what I gathered since the volume was low (it was early -- I didn't want to wake anyone up) and the treadmill is loud (so why not go ahead and pump the volume?!). 

Anyways, if they can build a house with their kids; we can think up something to do with this food coloring, right? Let's see, we've recently made colored crystals, dyed pasta shapes . . . what's left . . . how about a family favorite . . . icing?! One box of Honey Maids, one two-pound box of powdered sugar, some fall cupcake stencils (amazed we had these on hand . . . thanks Gma S.), two very engaged kids . . . and ta da . . . a halloween masterpiece resulted. 

Jackson and Maeve worked hard for a good hour making their treats (which Drew and I better stop eating since neither kid got one before bed, but they are really good). To be accurate, Jackson worked diligently while Maeve ate as much of the ingredients as she was allowed. "Mama, I needa dwrink," she said once we were finished. Of course you do! Jackson continued to be all business, using the dust buster to get every last fallen sprinkle. 

Some days it's just better not to have a plan. 

Swim 24/7

For the past four weeks Jackson, Maeve and I have been committed to swimming 24/7. Actually, it has been 30/4 -- thirty minutes, for days a week. But since the facility was 20 minutes away, it took a good two hours of our day roundtrip each day (lots of phone time in the car for me!). 

"Is today my day to swim?" Jackson would ask each day as Maeve went down for her nap; he knew what followed. On Monday & Wednesdays he had class; on Tuesdays & Thursdays it was Maeve's turn. We had to do it this way because they were both in mommy & me classes since Jackson is not yet four. Luckily, the facility had a 'kidzone' where they took turns playing. Until Jackson decided it would be a better idea for him to watch Maeve's class by the "side" of the pool. So how did he end up soaked each time? He did love playing big brother -- "Now Maeve needs a life jacket. I will put it on." "Now Maeve needs to go get this fish. I will throw it in." He even gave her a hug and kiss when her little teeth would start chattering. 

Our effort was matched with reward. Jackson advanced to the next level despite not being quite four; he is now a Goldfish.  He loved his time in the water and loved his sweet teacher. Jackson was jumping off the side, grabbing rings under water, bobbing up and down, and splashing lots. Huge progress since our days refusing to get in the water in Brisbane. We are so proud of him for trying new things and so excited he loves the water. We can be pool rats next summer!

Maeve's class was a little more relaxed; her teacher A LOT more laissez faire. A few songs at the beginning of class and then 25 minutes of 'exploration.' The teacher's comment on Maeve's certificate says it all: "Maeve clearly loves the water, and I think will be swimming by herself in no time!" Maeve did do great -- going under water, giggling through the group songs, floating on her back -- but if she is swimming by herself in no time, she had better be the next Darrah Torres. 

Even I made progress -- I came dressed in a swimsuit to every class all four weeks. I couldn't slip up because the "oh, she's from America" excuse would never work here. (By the way, the fact I am calling this progress is a little suspect.)

We have a one-week break before the next session starts. But I have a feeling I am going to be hearing "when is it my turn to swim?" long before then. Music to my ears.

Talk, talk, talk

Maeve is really chatting away these days . . . 

"I have bubbles." (repeating Jackson in the bath)

"Mama, I want up-you-go." (trying to get on a chair I was standing on)

"Why, no DDD?" (after I turned down Jackson's request for a DVD in the car)

"No, Jacks, no TV." (again, after I turned down Jackson's request for TV, this time before bed)

"Knee-ick." (calling for Nick our neighbor)

"Rou, rou, rou." (asking for Wheels on the Bus)

Jackson's also verbalizing most of his day at school . . . 

"Good morning, Mrs. Moris!"

"Tick-tock goes the clock, everybody stop!"

"Humpty dumpty sat on the wall. Humpty dumpty had a great fall!"

And also some of his favorite song lyrics . . .

"I going fast man. I the kind of the world, on a boat like Leo, if you're on the shore you're sure not me-o." (I'm on a Boat, Lonely Planet)

"I put my hand up, they're playing my song you know I'm going be okay. Yeah. Party in the USA." (Party in the USA, Miley Cyrus) 

Being a four-year old boy really helps him hit the high notes on that last song. Bless you both for keeping mommy entertained all day long! 

Zville Fall Festival

This weekend we experienced our first Zionsville Fall Festival -- a huge hit with Jackson and Maeve. It was very similar to what we will experience next weekend in Morton -- minus the pumpkins. (And the pumpkin ice cream and the pumpkin pancakes and the pumpkin fudge, etc.)

The parade was highly anticipated at our house. Lots of "Mama, when are we going to the fall festival? Now?!" And then finally, "Wake up! It's fall festival morning!" Jackson and Maeve were both really into the parade and all the waving that was required. They both adopted a Miss America-type wave. Very slow, fingers together. Jackson's was especially pronounced. My grandparents loved a parade; they would have been so proud of their great grandchildren. 

And then the real reason one attends a parade -- the candy. As reported in the Zionsville Times Sentinel, the parade chair was cracking down on the candy throwing during the parade this year, "encouraging participants to walk alongside the crowd and had the favors out." Perfect for us -- we never left the curb! Now that is service. This did result in us receiving an extraordinary amount of dum dum suckers, however. It must have been an automatic decision on part of those passing out the candy -- "family of four, two children under the age of four, release two dum dum suckers." Or maybe this was part of the parade chair's handbook. Either way, Maeve was in heaven with those suckers. We ended up with quite a loot bag -- the envy of the neighborhood gang later that evening at a cookout.  

(A funny parade side note.  A man over the age of let's say sixty, was sitting across the street from us in his lawn chair. Baseball cap on, he was quietly enjoying the parade (or so we thought) until the near end when he spoke up. "Don't forget about us old people. We like candy too." He went on the explain. "I never understand why the realators and politicians target the kids. They're not the ones buying the houses. It never fails to amaze me." And then he went back to minding his business.)

After the parade, Jackson had a blast driving the fire engine carnival rides before discovering the bouncy house/slide/etc. zone, where he and Maeve spent a great two hours. Maeve really held her own in the bouncy house. "I get knocked down, but I get up again." These song lyrics had to be running a loop in her little head. Jackson was a little more advanced sliding down a super fast and fun slide. Maeve would have liked to try it too. Next year, babe. 

No part of the festival was wasted on us -- we were even patrons of the craft sale. Jackson somehow spotted from a distance a small Christmas tree at a booth about the time we were selecting a "treat." He negotiated that tree in lieu of a lemon shakeup, smoothie, or snow cone. We couldn't argue. It is a white ceramic tree with gold glitter, and tiny little lights in the shape of birds every brilliant color. It is simply gawdy, but I absolutely love it. Tonight its glow was bright as I walked by his room. 

Everyone was exhausted when we got home. Drew turned on college football. Jackson sweetly fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, and Maeve was so excited from her adventures she chatted away to herself for a good half hour in her crib. I would have loved to know what she was trying to say. Precious. 

Personally, I never tire of a good ol' hometown fall festival. We've had our practice, and now we're ready for the big dance next weekend in Morton.  

How do dinosaurs go to school?

Dismissed

Ready to go!

Maeve enjoying our last 'summer' night

From the 'backpack fairy'

Blowing out the 'first day of school' candle

We have been reading the classic children's book "How Do Dinosaurs Go to School?" the past week. Grandma S. gave it to Jackson along with the Dr. Seuss book "Oh, the Thinks You Can Think" to mark his entry into the world of formal education (I think preschool counts). Jackson has been requesting these every night at bedtime, his curiosity increasing about his first day of school. Last week, anticipation peaked as we attended the orientations (one for parents, one for kids) at his new school. And last night we had a proper celebration . . . the 'backpack fairy' came to visit Jackson, leaving treats and more classic reads about going to school -- "The Kindness Quilt" and "Illama, Illama Misses Mama." (Yes, this one was more for this mama.) 

So how did our little dinosaur go to school this morning? With a HUGE smile on his face. No worries about waking him up (the 8:30 a.m. start is a little early for our sleepy-in-the-morning household); Jackson woke himself up. "I heard the alarms going off, Papa," he said. Oatmeal gone in a hurry and clothes off too (usually we would prefer to stay in our 'fire truck jammies' all day). No protests to getting dressed, or to the mandatory first-day picture in front of the house. "I'm going to school today!" Jackson shouted across the street at our nine-year old neighbor as we took the photo. 

Drew drove with us to drop Jackson off at school. It really was one of those perfect fall days (even though it is August) so it made going to school feel perfect. Jackson's pace quickened as he saw all the other little kids walking into the building. We hung up his backpack on his hook and put on his name tag. And then there she was, his kind and cheery teacher standing at the door of the classroom. It was time; she was ready, were we? I got a kiss and a huge hug (the best hug ever), and Drew got a high five. And then the teacher said, "That's it. We're going to have a great class and a great year." The door shut. Drew couldn't help himself from peeking inside. I, of course, had tears. Those proud, happy tears parents get when they see their children growing up, knowing the experiences they will have will open up their minds and hearts even more. 

So we made it. Our first's first day of school. We love you, Jackson. As the book says, "Good work. Good work, little dinosaur." We've got an exciting journey ahead!