And now he is Six

Re-posted and tidied up. One of these days I’ll figure out this whole scheduling thing. One of these days.

I know that I posted this same poem back when Sonar X7 first became Sonar X6, but it is just so lovely and so perfect for becoming six that I can’t help but repeat it now that Sonar X5 is turning into Sonar X6. Are you confused yet? Don’t be. Someone had a birthday, a scrumptious someone. 

Here’s what he looked like when we brought him home on Christmas eve, six years ago. I know you all wanted to see the one where we put him under the tree like a package, with a bow on his head, but it turns out you can’t see the bow in the picture and he’s screaming and unhappy. Trust me when I tell you that this one is much cuter. And it features the hand-knitting that my luscious friends made for us. And tea. Because I love tea.  

Sonar X4Days 

He has grown, just a little bit, that pudgy little monkey, and now he is six. Let’s all have a collective sigh of relief that he has made it this far. 

A freshly minted Sonar X6 dressed up as Peter Pan playing soccer and pretending to be a cowboy 

“The End” from Now We Are Six by A. A. Milne

When I was one, I had just begun.

When I was Two, I was nearly new. 

When I was Three, I was hardly me. 

When I was Four, I was not much more. 

When I was Five, I was just alive. 

But now I am Six, I am clever as clever, 

So I think I’ll be Six now for ever and ever. 

BELL NECKLACE

When Sonar X10 was in kindergarten, I was a first time Room Parent. As we organized the class party, I searched around for some little gift the Sonar could share with his classmates. Something that wasn’t cheap plastic. Something very inexpensive and/or easy to make. I found a jar of jingle bells at the craft store and decided to make each kid a necklace. I just threaded a bell on a length of yarn (something I have in abundance around here) and tied a knot. Took me ten or fifteen minutes to make them. 

The Sonar thought they were great. He happily wore his bell to school and jingled around all day.  All of the kids have had a similar reaction as they pulled the bells out of their goody bags. Smiles as they put them on and jingled around the classroom. (Side note: I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, all elementary school teachers who survive children’s Christmas parties deserve a fifth of bourbon.)

This is my sixth year making bell necklaces for school party favors. I’ve made them for each kid, each year. I’ve switched to a smaller, quieter bell for the sake of the teachers. But these little gifts still hold up to the cheap and easy requirements, and the kids really love them. Sonar X10 has several squirreled away in his treasure boxes.

The very best reaction, though, came from a kid in that first class, who was so excited, so thrilled with his BELL NECKLACE. “A BELL NECKLACE! I have ALWAYS wanted one of these!” he said to me and his mom and anyone else who would listen. 

His mom and I have laughed about that story more than once since then. I saw that awesomely enthusiastic guy this morning while I was volunteering at the library, and I’m happy to say that he is just as earnest and enthusiastic at eleven as he was at six. 

Jingle Jingle.

Of Junk Food and Profile Pictures

Talking to the kids about junk food the other day made me wonder what they would do if I let them buy any food they wanted from the store. We eat pretty healthy around here. Lots of fresh fruit, very little processed food and refined sugars. Sure, they have a candy jar, but they eat one piece of candy out of it a couple of times a week. I put a chocolate kiss in their lunches. One dark chocolate kiss. 

But then I told them about my eating habits in high school. There was mention of a candy bar every morning during homeroom. At least one and more frequently two Dr Peppers a day. Partner chimed in with stories of bags of potato chips and french onion dip consumed in a single afternoon. Plus lots of soda and ice cream. There was a story about whole chickens in there too, but that’s not junk food. Anyway, they were amazed that we would eat this way. 

So I started asking them, if I got out of the way and they wanted junk food, what would they buy? Chips? Soda? Candy? Ice cream? Maybe I should have stopped there. 

Today I may have taken leave of my senses. This was a short, chaotic week of school. Today was a fun, busy, unpredictable, tiring day. On the way home this evening, at ten to five, I took them into the grocery store and gave them each five bucks and told them to buy whatever junk food they wanted. Here’s what they got…

Sonar X5: Chocolate Rice Quakes ($1), Lock Jaw 7-piece Sour-Sweet Candy Pack ($1), Beef jerky ($1), Tiny Mango Sorbet ($1), Tiny Cookie Dough Ice Cream ($1). 

Sonar X7: French Onion Dip ($0.79), Potato chips ($1), Warheads Sour Spray ($1), Pint of Rocky Road Ice Cream ($1.72).

Sonar X10: Can of salt and vinegar Pringles ($1.50), Lock Jaw 7-piece Sour-Sweet Candy Pack ($1), Blue Raspberry Pop Rocks ($0.50), Pint of Butter Crunch Ice Cream ($1.72).

We don’t keep any of these foods in the house. Once every couple of months or so I’ll buy some chips and dip. Likewise with the ice cream. The rest, no way.

After dinner I let them rip into their new stashes. They were surprisingly thoughtful and generous, sharing tastes of their stuff with each other, talking together about this little party. Some they tasted, some they decided to save for holiday traveling. They tortured me with Pop Rocks. While they were doing this, I tried to take a new profile picture in my Mom shirt. It was a tricky shot. Mainly because monkeys kept popping into it. 

Contrived profile shot interrupted by Sonar X10

Contrived profile shot interrupted by Sonar X7

Contrived profile shot interrupted by Sonar X5

Hey look, the uninterrupted contrived profile shot

After they got all sugared up, and really, truly, and thoroughly tired, one meltdown ensued. Maybe they can wait to buy their own junk food in college.  

Sonar Sighted, Teeth Missing

The brown-eyed Sonar X7 has lost his two front teeth in as many days. Our gap-toothed wonder. Click to embiggen.

Sonar X7, missing his two front teethThis guy sleeps with piles of pillows all around him and usually jokes that he is the Pillow Master. Last night, in a fit of tooth-loss, adrenaline-fueled silliness, he decided he was the Pillo-tar (think Avatar: The Last Airbender). Master of the four Pillow-ments (elements).  I told him that sounded like Pillow Mints, those little candies.  Much giggling ensued.

Sonar X10 took it one step further, declaring himself the Sleep-atar, master of the four Bed-ements.  His Pillow-bending skills are excellent (unlike Ang, who bends Air, Water, Earth, and Fire), and he’s currently engaged in study of Sheet- and Pajama-bending.  One day he knows his most difficult challenge will be to face his arch-enemies and master Mattress-bending.  The giggling underwent a manifold increase.    

Yeah, we’re all pretty deliciously geeky around here.  

Writing Prompt: A Tree in Time

This prompt is brought to us by C. M. Mayo’s Daily 5, October 20th. And by the letter Q and the number 7.

A Tree in Time

Corkscrew willow, c. 2005, shortly after transplanting from bucket to ground

Outside my kitchen window grows a corkscrew willow tree.  The willow tree and I were the same height when we brought it home five years ago.  The sapling was growing in a black five-gallon bucket and fit inside our van.  On the ride home from the nursery, the three Sonars  in their car seats had to dodge the twisty green leaves that wagged around on bumps and turns, threatening to tickle ears and noses.  

We have a tree-climbing rule in our house: no putting your full weight on a branch narrower than your own wrist.  Call it a rule of wrist.  It protects the trees and the kids.

The first couple of years, no branch of the willow tree satisfied the rule.  Now, all of the lowest branches are fair game.  The supple, willowy branches all reach up over the top of the house.  The Sonars can shimmy up at least ten feet, crowing as they look over each other’s heads, spying the neighbor’s yard, shouting in imaginary conquest.  The green, waxy leaves of the willow twist around their faces in a whispering curtain.  

The corkscrew branches reach out and up and down, threatening to tickle noses, grasping for a final caress before the kids are out of reach.