I never put pictures from yesterday up. The Boy was exploring (what's new?) and fussing (actually rare) and helping. The Girl was picking blossoms, antagonizing the Boy, and occasionally fussing.
Playing in the Backyard
the girl
Change
It was bound to happen, because it happens to all children these days. L came home crying that her friends -- her best friends in her class -- were bullying her. I don't think she used that word: it was a label added afterward. The first moment K and I had alone when I came home that day, she said, "Well, some kids are bullying L at school." And while at first blush, it sounded like it might not necessarily be bullying (we're so quick to call everything "bullying" these days): some of the Girl's friends were chasing here around the playground, grabbing her, not letting her go. But with each new detail, it became more likely "bullying" was not a misapplied label in this case. The girls, it seems, had recently decided that, because L had wanted to play alone during recess for a couple of days, that they didn't want anything to do with her. They were ganging up on her, chasing her, and then holding her by force, squeezing her arm so that it caused pain, and doing it all despite L's requests not to, despite L saying that it hurt. What was worst was that she took her entire free time one day in class to write cards of apology to her three friends, the instigators, basically saying, "For whatever I've done to make you angry at me, I'm sorry." One girl ripped the card up in front of L while another took some makers and scribbled all over it. L was literally in tears as she told me, and she had been in tears earlier in the day when she told K.
So many questions running through K's and my conversations about this. Do we know that the Girl, normally a sweet girl but capable of mean streaks like everyone, didn't in fact antagonize a bit? Does she know, for that matter? At what point do we get the teacher involved? What do we tell the teacher? She didn't want to tattle on them, for she still hoped to salvage the friendship, but she realized she needed help.
The most pressing question, though, was, "What do we tell the Girl?" In the end, we suggested that she hang near the teachers when they go out to recess, and when the gang begins to approach, move as close to the teacher as possible, then when they try to chase her, don't move. "They can't chase you if you aren't moving, right?" And then when they begin the squeezing, the plan was to say loudly, "Stop -- that's hurting me." The plan was that the teacher would hopefully hear and intervene, and technically, the Girl still wouldn't have to tattle.
The next day, the debriefing: "We're friends again."
K and I smiled. It's still coming, but it just hasn't quite made it.
Sunday Afternoon with the Kids
Sunday afternoon. K needed some time to herself, not to relax, unfortunately, but to catch up on some work. So I took the kids for ice cream and to the park afterward.
We tried a new ice cream place -- new to us at least -- in a little town just beside us. The Boy wanted chocolate. Somehow he ended up with soft serve. Still, he was happy.
I wanted a small cone for L, but the flavor she wanted was only available, strangely enough, in a waffle cone, which was huge even in its smallest incarnation. Somehow, she was okay with that.
Before heading to the park, we wandered around the little downtown area for a while. L found her own little piece of paradise.
E found his shortly after.
Afterward, the park, and a bit of riding. The Girl was happy making circles on her bike; the Boy was thrilled making circles on his four-wheeler.
Until the Boy saw the train. And then began the begging, from both the Boy and the Girl. Sadly, the train only accepts payment in the form of cash or checks, and I had neither. In days past, that might have been more than problematic.
Today, nothing much: a little fussing, perhaps some whining, but generally, a simple explanation and it was back to the playground.
And more signs of growing: the Boy took a solid tumble but soon was showing off his wounds.
The afternoon slide into early evening. The Girl made new friends; the Boy played alone. The Girl joined the Boy, then rejoined her new friends.
The Boy did a little exploring.
Then we headed back home.
A fairly typical day in the park.
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.
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.
E, as we're rounding up watering pails for Mama, looks at me and says in all earnestness, "Daddy, I love being outside."
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:
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.
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.
"But I want to play!" Now, at least, nature helps.
Quotes
Four quotes, three from the Boy, one from the Girl. Which one’s which?
- “I made two gasses and I didn’t say, ‘Excuse me.'”
- Adult: “Don’t even think about making a mess before dinner.”
Child: “Well, I’m thinkin’ about it.” - “Don’t poop this party!”
- “That’s a good plan, Mama!”
Field Trip
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.
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.
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?
Afterward, we did the yearly egg painting, though with a few changes. Fewer people, fewer materials, but all the same in every other sense.
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.
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.
“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.
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:
A former coworker gave E a motorized tractor, providing him with his own little slice of heaven.
No Joke
A sunny day, with flowers blooming and a mother sitting on her nest -- and what do we do? The same things we always do.
Just Before Bedtime
With the days growing longer, we tend to stay out until the last minute, until it's absolutely bath time. The kids stay out, that is -- the adults take turns. Some days we play; today we work, which means E plays, which means he works. Which means, potentially, he makes an enormous mess for me. Which is why I watch him, guide him, and probably say "No" more times than I should. We get ready a small bonfire for when our guests arrive. We're planning an ognisko as part of our Easter celebrations -- with Polish Mass at 3:00, things tend to stretch into the evening -- but we might light it up a day or two earlier. No matter: E will gladly rebuild it.
