Tired Little Boys

And just so you don't think we've forgotten about the other two lately, here are a few random shots of them today - falling asleep at the dinner table - at 5:30 PM!



Love how Sawyer can fall asleep anywhere, in any position at all.



Xander is more traditional, going for the head on the table approach.

We've apparently had a hard day's play since early this morning. We watched some PBS, took a long stroller walk while Connor was at school, went to pick up Connor from school (slightly less traumatic today, since I took the double-stroller), grabbed a quick bite for lunch, played with Lisa (our speech therapist), played outside, watched our daily viewing of Chicken Little, and then fell asleep after eating about half of our dinner.

That will teach them to wake Mommy up at 6:45 a.m. kicking their bedroom door, right? Or perhaps it will only make it worse, since they've been in their beds since 6 p.m. and will probably be wide awake sometime around 4 a.m. Good times . . .

Mommy Who?

After watching Connor cling a bit on his first day of school, I wondered if we might see a bit of the same thing this morning when it was time to drop him off for day two, since it was still a new experience and it had been several days since last Thursday. No, apparently not.

Other than the minor meltdown at home, over wanting to take his new Thomas backpack instead of the school one, he was excited and ready to go. This, of course, is Mommy's fault. She probably should have checked with the preschool before getting the new backpack. Although, in all honesty, it was on clearance at Wal-Mart the day before school started, and I just thought it was cute. I thought he could use it either for school or even just as one of his travel bags - he's on the go quite a bit, you know. So, my mistake (and a lesson for all you other first-time preschool moms out there - wait on the bag until you see what the school does). So we compromised, and the bag will ride to and from school in Mommy's truck so he can hold onto it on the way. Perhaps this will end in time, when the newness wears off. Here's hoping . . .

So we get to school just a few minutes before the door opens. He sits patiently in the hallway, looking at the picture board just outside the door and waiting for Miss Julie and Miss Crystal to open it up. We talk about the toys he got to play with last week, and which ones he wants to play with again. And when the door opens, he basically runs in without a backward glance.

I follow, trying to learn the process since I'm also new to the whole preschool thing. We hang up his bag on the hook with his name above it. We (or actually I) pull out his yellow folder (used for correspondence back and forth from home) and place it in the stacking tray with his name on it. Next, we find his name on a laminated card with velcro on the back, and then we attach it to a stop light on the wall. And then, finally, he is allowed to begin free play - the way they begin each day before moving into more structured activities.

As I managed to scan the weekly lesson plan, also posted outside the classroom while we were waiting, I saw a bit more about how they kids spend their day, like beginning with free play. There is also craft / color time, reading circle time, music time, snack time, circle share time (involves a small toy that each child brings every day - Connor's today was, of course, his boat), playground time, bible time (he's in a church preschool), and all that other fun stuff for little people.

My son, after completing our entry duties (the bag, the folder and the name), immediately jumped right down into the floor where a wooden train set was assembled (imagine that). He immediately began hoarding the trains (another shock, I know), but there was only one other student there so far, so I wasn't too alarmed. Miss Julie bent down to say hello and asked him about the trains, which she remembered were his favorite. "I like these!" he told her.

And that's where I left him, happily immersed in his trains and without the least bit of thought or concern for his mother. If I expected a "Bye-bye, see you later!" moment, I was mistaken. I might as well have not been there any more. He appears to be settling in well, and quite over his momentary fear that first day of being left at school.

So I quietly left my big boy to his new adventures.

Monsters, Robots & Other Scary Things

In the last few weeks, we've noticed that Connor has been asking a rather odd question at bedtime. We haven't really thought much about it, but the longer it goes on the more unusual it becomes.

"No robots coming tonight?" he asks quietly, sitting up in bed with the covers pulled up high. It usually occurs at the very end of our bed time routine, as I'm backing out of his room and closing the door.

Every night we have the same ritual. Once he's had his bath, usually from Daddy, he wants me to come get him ready for bed and lay with him for a few minutes. We brush his teeth with the fire engine electric brush (flashing lights and all), put lots of lotion on (he likes to help), and then his Thomas or his Lightning pajamas ("Pee-Jays," as he calls them). We lay down, him under the covers and me on top of them, and then we talk about what we've done that day, how we got the "dirty off" in his bath, and what we're looking forward to doing tomorrow. He's been happy, all smiles and even laughing and being silly. He's always sad when it's time for Mommy to go, but he can usually be convinced to "Give Mommy kiss!" and then tell Mommy "Night-Night." And then, as I'm pulling the door closed, out of no where will come the question.

"No robots coming tonight?"

"No robots," I say reassuringly.

"That's good. No robots," he says, laying back down. "Night-Night, Mommy."

"Night-Night, baby."

We assume that he's talking about our little robot vacuum cleaner, Roomba, but we're not sure. We bought it a few years ago on a whim, thinking it might help us cut down on the considerable amount of dog hair and crumbs that three toddlers leave behind during a typical day of play. It has, as we usually run it downstairs as we're going to bed a couple of times each week. It's a bit loud, and the only thing we can think of is that perhaps he's woken up late at night and heard it, thinking it's out of place in the usual quiet of the night and that's it's just a little bit scary.

It's just funny because he's never really seemed the least bit scared of anything before. Scary monsters in the Pixar movies? Nope. Big dog with a deadly wagging tail? Nope. Strangers? Nope. Robot vacuum. Yes, apparently.

Quoted & Noted

"It's broken," my three-year old says, rather dejectedly. He's holding up one of his favorite toys, which has been broken since the day he first got his hands on it. It's an old tractor wagon (HotWheels size) that once belonged to my older brother (who's 34 and probably received it some time in the late 1970s). The blue tractor that came with it, also from my brother's collection, has long since been lost by my son.

"Yes, baby," I agree, without the least bit of surprise. "It's broken." You see, just about any trailer that enters our house is broken within minutes or hours of it's arrival. Our three rough-and-tumble boys cannot seem to keep from pulling and pushing too hard and breaking either the pin that holds things together or the hitch where you attach it. We have two large John Deere tractors and a big Ford truck that all had a hitches to pull trailers at one time. Two smaller (HotWheels size) trucks also share this fate.

"Connor needs a new one!" he adds thoughtfully, looking up at me expectantly. "Go to the store?" he asks. Clearly I am expected to take him out to the store and pick one up, you know, RIGHT NOW.

"Not now, baby," I say. "We'll look and see next time we go." And if I had entertained thoughts of him forgetting about this careless little phrase (I was in the middle of cooking dinner last night), I was sadly mistaken. I've been asked about it no less than five times today.

"Go to store today?" he asks, holding the little broken wagon up in his hand for me to see yet again. When it gets a quiet negative, he offers "Maybe tomorrow?"

Perhaps going back to school tomorrow will help him forget about his little wagon!

Snapshot Sunday

Xander was so cute, walking around with this toy fishing pole around his neck. Even when he went on to play with other things that day, the pole still stayed around his neck.



Our little beach bum, ready to go swimming again with his "goggles" that he begged Mommy to get for days ("Go store, Mommy, get goggles?" he would ask, over and over and over again. I think it's a holdover from the snorkeling he did at the beach).



Our little OCD man, cramming as many HotWheels cars as possible into the little windowsill in his favorite corner of the house. And what's really fun is that the fifth row barely fits, so they have trouble staying on (and guess who doesn't like that, not one little bit).