Hi!  Wanted to let you know that Delton’s art teacher told me at the end of the day that Delton was telling some girls in our class that getting your head chopped off with the paper cutter is a real good way to get to heaven. Mrs. Gainer said that he wasn’t saying it in a threatening way, more as informative.
Kim

“An imaginary pickle?” I said, thinking this is an interesting choice for her first imaginary friend.

“No, daddy, I said (insert eye roll here) ‘imaginary pit bull,’” she replied.

OK, still an interesting choice, even if we are the proud owners of a flesh-and-blood pit bull. Turns out she suddenly has a whole litter of puppies that she “clutched” in her arms all the way to the car. They are all girls, except for the pug. One of them is named Princess. I think there’s a chocolate lab in the mix too. She said they could stay in the car while she accompanied me inside the barber shop on the way home.

I just realized that pickle is another word that Julia can fold under the umbrella of Actual Words Which I Will Pronounce Pipple (or At Least That’s How Daddy Always Hears Them). The others include the aforementioned pit bull, pimple and nipple. This is just her attempt to streamline the English language.

This week we met with a team to discuss Delton and what to expect with some of his behaviors they might see.  During that meeting we signed paper work to make him an official gifted student (GIEP) and discussed situtuations that might cause anxiety.     I’m a very proud mommy!

During this meeting we met his teacher, Mrs. Garner.  She seems like a great match for Delton.  I feel we have been blessed.  We also met the gifted teacher that will be working with him, Mrs. Wheeler.  I think this is going to be a great match too. 

We then asked the principal if Delton would be able to come before orientation, to help ease his anxiety.  So, I took him in the next day.  We got into the office area and there was no secretary, so I rang the buzzer.  The principal came out and Delton got the biggest grin on his face, he was practically giggling.  He was so excited to meet the principal.  He went right up to her and shook her hand and said hi.  I had a hard time not laughing.  So we went on our tour of the school and the first place he wanted to visit was the library (who would have guessed?). So, we went upstairs to the library and the librarian was there, Mrs. Moyer.  She introduced herself and took Delton on a tour of the library.  We then went to his classroom and looked around and then the specialist rooms.  When we got to the music room, his response was, “I so, don’t want to take music.  When I get the list to pick my classes, I’m putting a big X on music because I so don’t want to take music.  I ‘ll pick a science class instead.”  I then had to explain that in elementary school you don’t pick classes (he is currently reading Harry Potter, where they pick classes).

We will meet his teacher on Wednesday night, when we head to orientation.

Delton had his kindergarten graduation on Thursday night. For a preschool like College Hill—where kindergarten is the highest grade level—I think this ceremony has a little more meaning. In the more than five years that he’s been there, this school moved out of the basement of a college dorm and significantly expanded its space and program. Delton and Julia have both been there longer than most of the teachers…and many of the students too. Given that he is moving from an urban, non-traditional classroom of nine kids to a rural public elementary school with traditional classes of more than 20, this graduation means saying goodbye to much that Delton knows about it means to go to school.

Of course, none of that was on his mind during this big event. His only concern was finding a way to not have to wear his cap and gown. After many tears, he consented just in time to join his friends for the processional in Adams Auditorium at F&M. The cap came off as soon as he reached his seat. The rest of the night was a lot of fun: his grandparents and we witnessed Delton singing (and almost dancing!) in public for the first time, watched a slideshow, teared up as he handed his mom—the parent who’s truly earned his respect—a flower, enjoyed some vibrant artwork that he made and watched the kids play in the rain on the patio.

Hats off to Miss Janelle, Miss Linzi and all the other teachers at College Hill who’ve enriched our son’s formative years in ways beyond measure. I’m sure the transition that lies ahead will be bumpy, but Delton is well-prepared for continuing his education.

Of course, the alpha to this omega is the arrival of our niece, Cadence Reilly Herring (20 in., 7.8 lbs), after a few days of anxious waiting by Erin and Jeremy. We went to bed Thursday night knowing that Erin had been given an epidural and had her water ruptured—apparently the formula for a restful night followed by a very busy morning. We got the call around 6:30 that she had arrived and were out the door by 7:15 (kids and all!) so that we could squeeze in a quick visit before Aleisha needed to be at work (she made it by the skin of her teeth) and a weekend at the beach with her friends.

Delton’s reaction on hearing it was a girl: “That’s not cool.” His reaction upon seeing his new cousin: “She’s so cute.”

Before I had a chance to post this, however, Julia has since moved on to actual reading. I just introduced her to a box of beginning readers that Aleisha picked up for Delton last year. She just finished Book 2 tonight, about Mat and Sam and Cat!

So, I proceeded to tell him about Afghanistan and Iraq. “A rock?” he asked. “Why are we fighting a rock?”

“No, I-RAQ. It’s a country in the Middle East, near Egypt and Saudi Arabia,” I replied.

His next question—”Why are we fighting there?”—led me to try and explain how we weren’t really fighting there any more and what a terrorist is. “It’s someone who fights for something they believe in, but in a way that is sneaky and without caring for who gets hurt.”

“Oh, you mean like George Washington?”

Fortunately, at this point, something on the radio or outside the window led him to change the subject.

As we were driving to gymnastics today, she told me that on her birthday she was going to pretend all of the Star Wars characters were inside her body. I kept asking her to repeat what she was saying, thinking I was mis-hearing. Finally, I said, “Oh, so you’re like the Death Star with all the characters inside?”

“Yeah, even Princess Leia. Not just the Death Star—a bunch of planets too.”

• Park on Queen Street. Maybe hit the ATM. Feed two quarters and one dime into the meter.
• Walk to market.
• Buy doughnuts for kids.
• Pick up turkey sausage and snack sticks.
• Hand complimentary American cheese slices to kids. Purchase lunch meat and cheese.
• Get a boneless, skinless chicken breast, split.
• Buy three pears, four bananas, bunch of grapes, one red pepper and, occasionally, a small box of snap peas, green beans or Brussels sprouts.
• Pick up some CocoPops.
• Tell kids we do not have time to smell candles. Smell candles anyway.
• Hand each kid a dollar for dog treats.
• Buy either a pineapple coconut, mocha chocolate chip or cherry muffin for my breakfast.
• Exchange two or three empty half-gallon glass milk containers for two or three filled with skim milk.
• Count remaining change and buy two or three apples if possible.

This set of events is so ingrained in my brain, that I feel a wee bit off kilter if there are any wrinkles (say one of the stands is closed, or money is short for a particular item). This must be true of the kids too, as they rarely attempt to change the order in which we do things or seek out other stands along the route.

Today, however, we encountered the strangest departure from our drill to date. Only seconds after walking through the doors and ordering the doughnuts, an old woman wearing a babushka walks up to me, motions to Delton and Julia and asks in a heavy accent (Italian? Eastern European?), “Are these your kids?” Before I can answer, she thrusts a yellow plastic grocery bag into my hands, saying, “You take. Food. For the children.” Seeing I am flummoxed, she sets the bag down and carefully unties the double-knotted handles. She points out each item in the bag: a box of processed cheese food, canned beef and vegetables, a bag of powdered milk. I have a hard time understanding her, but I see sadness in her eyes as she says something about her own children. All I can think to say is “Thank you” and “Are you sure?” Mission accomplished, she backs away into the aisle, nodding and smiling.

I keep trying to make sense of this transaction. Was it some kind of omen? Is there some lesson to be learned? Here was a gift I did not seek—one that added to my burdens (those cans were heavy!) and is unlikely to benefit my family (I don’t think I could stomach canned beef or powdered milk). Yet, I was touched by the woman’s generosity. I regret not introducing myself or asking her name, but I hope my receptiveness to her gesture brought her some measure of happiness.

Dear God,

Thank you for sending mommy to the hospital to have her babies.

Amen

Happy Birthday, Delton!

What is a good book that you read lately?

I forgot.

What is one of your friends’ names?

I can’t find one in my head.

What is a TV show or movie you like?

Garfield

What is a toy you like to play with?

Computer

What is a food or drink that you like?

Soda

What’s your favorite thing to do with your family?

Play state bingo.