clint,,; loves mom,,,

Kindergarten is exciting for Clint. He is learning so many things. Punctuation is one of his new obsessions. I just like to hear his names for the different punctuation marks. There is the stop sign (period), the exciting mark (exclamation point), the asking one (question mark), and of course the pause thingy (comma).

Recently, he asked me how to spell "loves", and then brought me this wonderful note. Why is it wrought with commas, you ask? I don't know, except that maybe that's what they talked about in school that day. Or maybe he needed to pause to think about it. Hmmm....




The picture he drew - that's me hugging him. Can you see my arms wrapped around his head? And his feet hanging down about knee-high to me? He certainly can draw to scale (maybe he will be an architect some day?). AND I have on a skirt! That's impressive (maybe a fashion designer?). This just makes me want to squeeze him right now. Just squeeze the meanness right out of him, 'til there's nothing left but crayons and love and commas.

Mom,,; loves clint,,, !!!!!

Boys Live Here.....

It's a fact that's hard to miss. Outside there are footballs and soccer balls everywhere, along with little cars and trucks, pirate swords and piles of dirt. Inside isn't much better.

I try to keep one step ahead of the boy-clutter. Lord knows I try. I even attempt to make my own presence known - and not be leaving my underwear in the floor, either.

The other day while in Hobby Lobby shopping for art supplies, I picked up these cute little pumpkins for my dining room table. Clint helped me trade out the green apples that usually rest in the pewter tray.

What did I find 48 hours later?

Golf balls.....in my pumpkins?!?!

Oh, Lord.

I threw my head back in disgust. I took a deep breath and slowly opened my eyes.

What the...?!?!?!

What IS that on top of the column-thingy in my dining room?

A sock. A little, tiny sock. Way up high. And all this time I thought the dryer ate them.

(Please excuse the blurriness of this picture. I decided to laugh...you know, in lieu of crying.)

Yep, there's no doubt about it. Boys live here.

And I surrender.

Sharp Dressed, Part Deux

Ahem. Junior Cotillion has officially begun. Let's let that soak in for a minute.
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We are talking about Hunter, the middle Rowdy. In Junior Cotillion. Do you need another minute?
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Okay. Last Sunday, with some apprehension, we set off for the Austin Hotel for the first dance (there are actually only two dances - each referred to as a "ball" - but all the monthly classes are called dances). His apprehension stemmed from the fact that he was a lot more dressed up than is usual for him, he would be in close proximity to girls, and of course the general "unknown" factor.

My apprehension....well, he was a lot more dressed up than is usual for him and that made him look more grown up. And he would be in close proximity to girls. And of course the general "unknown" factor. But more than anything was that tiny twinge of panic-mixed-with-dread that arises the first time your spawn runs head first into the social graces. And this was no small brush - this was a full-on collision.

But he looked the part:

The question was, would he ACT the part? Would he burp out loud...would he run from the girls as if they had cooties...would he flop like a fish when it came time to learn the proper way to sit?

(As a side note, there actually is a proper way to sit. Both for gentlemen and ladies. And guess what? I haven't been doing it. What a big surprise.)

Anyway, we were both apprehensive. But as it turned out, it was all unnecessary! He had a blast. He saw a few friends the moment we arrived, and quickly gave me the high sign to leave. And when I picked him up? All smiles. ALL SMILES!

He was so excited about shaking hands properly, sitting strong, learning the box step...and all the stuff that is yet to come over the next 6 months. And I'm excited for him.

Maybe they will teach him to tie his own tie. But for now, well...it takes a village.

Sharp Dressed Man

It's school-picture time for the Rowdy Boys. Being a photographer myself, I always have a difficult time spending my hard-earned money on school pictures. I take so many photos of my boys, being....well, themselves, that it's hard to buy those cheesy-grinned, fake background kind of photos that school pictures always seem to be. But, in the whole scheme of things those cheesy-grinned, fake background kind of photos are part of who they become, so I keep buying 'em.

Yesterday, Hunter had to shop for dress clothes for junior cotillion. Naturally, where one goes, we all go. I tried to bribe Clint into being good while we were in Dillard's by giving him a dollar to ride one of the kiddy rides out in the middle of the mall when we were done....if he was good. He was. As a matter of fact, he really got into shopping for dress clothes.

He carried this little number around the store the entire time we were in there, insisting he was going to wear it for picture day.

He said he looks like the President.....

Who am I to argue? He is so stinkin' cute!

Please note Clint's thoughts on his wardrobe: the shirt is tucked in, but will probably not stay that way after pictures because he might need to untuck it to play; the vest is unbuttoned so the tie will show (and believe me, we stood in front of the mirror with it both ways before deciding), the shoes are really hiking boots but double as a dress shoe (it made sense to a five-year-old); the vest and tie will probably be in his backpack after pictures are over. Oh, and he looks like the President. Of the United States. Salute.

On a side note, yesterday was my Daddy's birthday. Seventy never looked so sassy. Here's to many more, Daddy!