This. That. The Other.

We've had two weekends in a row of school extravaganzas...the school year must be (at long last) coming to an end!

First, Cheverly Weekday Nursery's Truck Touch, in which the children touch the trucks and honk the horns and eat the hot dogs and hamburgers and cookies and...and...and... Liz and I whrrled the event, which was pretty cool. You can follow the story here.

This past Saturday, Paul's school hosted its Annual Fun Day, which was -- for many a dad -- more fun than usual, due to the presence of the Redskins cheerleaders (Redskinettes? I dunno.) They were giving mini cheerleading camps, and Maggie was right in the mix. There were a lot of very attentive dads once they figured out what was going on...and some of them didn't even have kids doing the mini camp.

Paul was at both of these events, but he, in what seems to be 2nd grader mode (judging by his friends) was extraordinarily free range, visiting us only for infusions of tickets. He came home with a lot of crap from both events. Have you ever noticed that attending school fairs is much like taking a day trip to NYC? You come with money, but 30 minutes later it's all gone and you have no recollection of where it went. Maybe I need to get to New York more often and school fairs less often...

I think Paul has taken stories of hell to heart during religious studies at school. He really gets the detail. Not sure what this has to do with anything, but there it is.

The best-laid plans have run amok.

Okay, maybe not the best-laid plans, but this week is not turning out quite the way I thought it would. Tonight, Paul is having an MRI -- we're trying to find out why this kid has so many bad, bad headaches. In fact, he's had some level of headache for the past four days. Miserable for everyone. Everyone.

Anyhow, since I'm not sure what the rest of the week holds, I thought I'd post this hint for something fun to do this Saturday now. Mayorga is a cool place and they have really good local coffee. And the band is not too shabby, either.

Also, in case you're curious, I'm posting graphic design/web-related stuff I'm doing on the old pricklygirl site. You can also reminisce about the old days, if you're so-inclined.

Woo Boy!

Maggie begins her foray into organized sports this morning with Tot Soccer. If she is anything like the rest of us, organized sports will be a short-lived outlet for her. We are not an athletically gifted family. In fact, challenged is a charitable term.

In other news, the boy is wandering around the house with red goo attached to his head with masking tape. He is planning to clone himself, and then take over...something? His plans aren't real clear, but he has some. I should probably be more alarmed.

Also, Paul discovered belly dancers this weekend. Now that is a world of wonders.

Holding off on starting the New Year

I admit it. I'm one of those people who's ready to take the Christmas decorations down and the tree out to the curb on January 1. However, I live with people (males) who are awfully sentimental about such, so the tree and decorations stay up until the tree dies or something breaks, whichever comes first. Which means we're in a holding pattern. A standoff, if you will.

Add to that the heaving sighs and tears this morning as two people (males) made their way back from two weeks' vacation. And Maggie has croup, so the one person who really wanted to get back to life outside of this house didn't even get to go.

So if the tree is up and at least one person is at home sick, I'm calling personal extended holidays. Which means I'm not going to get on to those big (and much-needed) organizing projects. Or any self-improvement, really. The laundry is going to wait one more day, too. And the grocery shopping. I'm just going to turn on the Christmas lights, make a pot of tea, listen to all the cool music I downloaded from iTunes this weekend, and knit for an hour. Or two. Happy Holding Pattern to you and yours!

Incidentally, Paul is planning to wear his "jamas" inside-out for the foreseeable future. So if the snow (or ice) starts to fall, you know who to thank.
(I'm sure he'll have something to say about all of this later today on his blog.)

Why Paul Wins

I get the impression that it's kind of tough being a seven-year old boy. Especially a seven-year old boy who's... let's say athletically-challenged. A seven-year old boy who has a weird sense of humor and who guffaws when a giggle would suffice. A seven year-old boy who already loves girls and cannot not let them know. A seven-year old boy who, try as he might (or might not), is unable to stay out of the little world in his brain during school -- couldn't do it if his life depended on it. That's my boy.

Well. Said boy's class is doing a long-term reading project -- Read Across America. The class earns mileage for each time increment they read, and the point is to make it all the way across the country (hence the name). For each major stop, there's a worksheet, and the first one was about Maryland. We worked on it last week, and got to the part about well-known people from the state, so we looked that information up... Edgar Allan Poe, Harriet Tubman, Babe Ruth... Paul could have picked any of those. Who does he pick instead? Last name on the list: Frank Zappa.

And that's why Paul wins. He will always choose the answer in the far left field. And I hope he always does. Now, if he could just focus...

(He made a fantastic little Zappa drawing, too. I'll post it soon.)