matching tracksuits

fun in threes, sometimes fours

Backyard

The leaves are all out in the small forest we are lucky enough to call our backyard. They're still curled and small, but it's a sign that spring is finally here to stay. In theory. "We could still get some really cold weather, maybe even a freeze," says our neighbor. "It's happened." It might have happened, but it can't happen this year -- not this year. We're all too sick of the cold, the gray, the blah of winter in South Carolina, where it's never cold enough to make a real winter but just cold enough for a while to make it miserable.

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But spring comes, and the leaves of the trees return our virtually complete privacy, and we spend all our time outside. Or as much as possible.

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E, as we're rounding up watering pails for Mama, looks at me and says in all earnestness, "Daddy, I love being outside."

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With our backyard, which includes a stream at the bottom of the property, and the fact that our neighbors don't mind if we use their backyard as well, it's no wonder:

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we go exploring, throw rocks, sticks, and seed pods into the water, and hide in forts -- it's a true blessing that we have such a place for our children to play.

First, of course, there's always swinging. It's virtually non-negotiable.

E takes a few cars with him down to the swing -- everywhere, actually -- and he's able to entertain himself as L takes her turn in the too-small-swing.

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We stay out until bath time, which is also when the sun now sets. As the days grow still longer, it will be more and more challenging to get the Boy into the house.

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"But I want to play!" Now, at least, nature helps.

Playing Cars with the Boy

Quotes

Four quotes, three from the Boy, one from the Girl. Which one’s which?

  1. “I made two gasses and I didn’t say, ‘Excuse me.'”
  2. Adult: “Don’t even think about making a mess before dinner.”
    Child: “Well, I’m thinkin’ about it.”
  3. “Don’t poop this party!”
  4. “That’s a good plan, Mama!”

Helping

The Boy likes to help. He loves to help. Any time we do anything — sweeping, digging in the garden, pulling weeds — he wants to help. The question is whether this is a function of his personality, and thus something that will linger, or something that is a function of his age, something he might outgrow.

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Perhaps a little of both, if we nurture it?

Field Trip

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Easter 2015

A good party means no time for pictures -- except for Easter breakfast and the egg hunt.

Baskets 2015

It's been steadily growing each year, and not just because more and more Poles attach themselves to our ever-growing church community. This year, for instance, there was a story in the parish bulletin about the Polish tradition of the Holy Saturday blessing of the baskets, and as a result, attendance was at an all-time high.

Good Friday 2015

Today, the Boy could hardly wait to get back out to his tractor, and just as we were heading out to spend some time working on the driveway, N, E’s dearest friend in the neighborhood, came over with his mother and brother. Like a true gentleman, E let N have a turn on the tractor first as he sped around on his four-wheeled bike that he’s virtually worn out now. They chased each other, bumped each other, and had a generally grand time.

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But when it was time to switch, the Boy was all smiles.

Later, after N left, the Boy did his best police car imitation, squealing for the siren and blinking his eyes to simulate flashing lights, as he chased down speeder after speeder. Well, it was just T, his more-or-less-biggest-sister-though-not-technically-related.

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Again and again he caught her, gave her a ticket, then was thrilled to find that she was speeding again. In fact, in instructed her to speed again. Entrapment?

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Afterward, we did the yearly egg painting, though with a few changes. Fewer people, fewer materials, but all the same in every other sense.

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But it being Good Friday, everything was geared toward going to the church for Liturgy of the Lord’s Passion. It’s unlike anything else done in the Catholic Church. It’s not a Mass, but it somehow has much more solemnity than a normal Mass.

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This year, as last year, the Polish community shared, with the pastor’s blessing, the tradition of creating a tomb for Jesus. In Poland, individuals — firefighters, policemen, and others — stand guard in full regalia until the vigil service on Holy Saturday. Here, it being an ironically new tradition, there’s just the tomb.

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“Perhaps next year,” a Polish friend suggested, punching me in the shoulder. Perhaps.

Thursday

The day started with the Boy playing a game of catch with M, his godmother, after breakfast. He of course chose the best and worst seat in the room: almost every time he tossed the ball or caught it, the swivel chair began turning, both thrilling and startling him.

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After lunch, it was the girls' turn. K had promised L that if she met her computer-generated goal on the MAP score, she would pay for a visit to the local trampoline park. The goal, it turned out, was almost impossibly high: even the teacher felt it was too high. L had gotten to ambitious with Compass Learning, which affected the goal, the teacher explained. No matter: her results were stunning nonetheless (and more importantly, she took her time, having to return later to spend an additional thirty minutes to finish the test), and so K of course suggested bending the rules of the wager.

So off we went to Gravitopia, where the girls grew bolder and bolder with each moment until at last, and predictably, when they had reached the point that they were willing to try things they balked at only minutes earlier, it was time to go.

Then, a final surprise:

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A former coworker gave E a motorized tractor, providing him with his own little slice of heaven.

Happy Birthday, Ciotka!

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