First Strike

The Peanut and his daddy accompanied me on another work event a couple of weekends ago. One of the things they did to keep themselves occupied while I was away was bowling. It was the Peanut's first time. If you know the Peanut well, you'd know his size kind of gets in the way of him being very coordinated at the moment. Well I think we found something that has potential and is relatively safe until he gains better control over his long limbs.

My Picasso

The Peanut loves to paint. I love that he loves to paint. I love that he loves to paint at school. I know he's painted at school because he comes home with it all over his school clothes. All I have to do is throw those clothes in the laundry.

The Peanut loves to paint at home. I hate that he loves to paint at home. It's alot of preparation for the Peanut to paint at home, not for the Peanut, but for me. He grabs the paint and brushes. I grab the paper plates the paper towel the table size roll of paper the plastic garbage bags and the oversize t-shirt to protect the Peanut's clothes. I also have to supervise the entire creative experience so the paint only stays in the designated carefully protected area. I use extra paper towels cleaning up spills and the inevitable finger prints on the few things the Peanut touches while I'm cleaning up another mess. I think we could actually save a small forest if the Peanut would only care to paint at school.

School Days

Yesterday marked the Peanut's long anticipated First Day of School. You could feel the excitement in the air as the Peanut ate his blueberry pancakes for breakfast and didn't once ask to watch cartoons. Teeth were brushed, hair was combed and the backpack was on. He was ready for school.

When we arrived at the playground amid all the parent-papparazzi, the Peanut chose to stick close by instead of bolting for the slides as is the norm. He patiently waited for the signal to line up with his class and very sneakily skipped the smaller kid in front of him while she was preoccupied with balancing the huge backpack throwing off her center of gravity. With a quick wave goodbye and a frantic last "I love you! and Be a good listener! and Have fun! and I'll be right here when you're done!" (mostly said for my own benefit, not his) it was smiles, one last parent-papparazzi flash... and it was over.

My baby is officially in school. I quickly turn as soon as the Peanut's through the door and avoid lingering with the rest of the parents for fear my positive smiling exterior will fail me. I barely reach the Peanut's favorite 'loop-ty' slide when I feel the betrayal of my tightening throat and quivering chin. A perfectly timed text message of encouragement and support from the Peanut's daddy is all it takes for the tears to catch up to the lump in my throat.

After taking the long way home to collect myself, the 2 1/2 hours pass quicker than I anticipate and I walk faster than is necessary back to the school to wait for the Peanut to appear through the heavy school door to the playground where the parents anxiously await. Somehow even though I know he's just fine without me, I feel a huge sense that I've been holding my breath for the last couple of hours until I see his adorable little head bobbing up and down well above the rest and headed toward me.

He's fine.

He's had a great time.

He's excited to tell me about his day and all the fun he's had.

He can't wait to go back.

"Great! I'm so glad!" I tell him. He runs ahead of me eager to get home and show grandma what he's made in class today... With a sigh of relief and satisfaction I think, 'He made it.'

(And I made it too.)

Labor Day

The Peanut had a fun filled Labor Day weekend to mark not only the end of summer, but the end of the last summer before he heads off to school for the fist time!