Redshirting

Tomorrow is kindergarten registration in Richmond. 

But we aren’t going.

Yes.  Henry will be 5 on April 25^th and the cutoff is September 30^th.  

And no.  It’s not because he isn’t smart or is socially backward.  (Though his teacher did mention he struggled with staying on task during clean up time.  Yeah, that’s not really a developmental issue.  I’ve met his parents, and they struggle with that as well.  And just focusing in gen…hey! Is that something shiny?)

Nor is it because I want him to be some ginormo child who makes the Varsity soccer team in 9^th grade.  

Truth be told, the fact that our decision to hold him back is raising eyebrows is a bit of a shock to me.  I grew up in North Carolina and went to a small private school.  There were 52 kids in my graduating class.  Out of those kids, I can count at least 14 that were older spring birthdays.  Having boys 6 months older was my norm.  

So yes, part of our decision is that I don’t want Henry to be the last boy to go through puberty or get his driver’s license.  That stuff matters.  If you think a child’s physical development has nothing to do with their social or spiritual or educational development, than, well…I’d place a large bet on the fact that you’ve always been the average size or body type.  

And to be clear, the idea of my son being 19 when he heads off to college is a lot more settling to me than him being barely 18.  

Also, there is a gentleness to Henry that I want to keep intact.  He tends to seek out the kids who are lonely or shy and befriend them.  He will be a good oldest kid in the class.  And there’s a roughness with some of the boys his age that, well, quite frankly, I want to separate him from.  

A few months back we were at a playdate with the child Henry considers to be his best friend.  Henry hugged his friend and said, “Hey, I love you!  You’re my best friend.”  His friend pushed him away, told him that boys weren’t supposed to hug or say I love you.  Henry cried and we still sometimes have to talk about the situation.  I reassured Henry that his friend was wrong.  That if you love someone, you tell them.  But that if someone asks you not to hug them, you have to respect that.

At the end of the day, we are holding Henry back because it is what is right for our family.  Next year is going to be a big year for us.  Gracie will go to preschool for the first time.  She will be in school on Tuesday and Thursday mornings.  Henry will go to a long day PreK (9:20-1:50) Monday-Thursday.  I will have 6 hours of uninterrupted time with no children!!!!!  (Sloan asked me what I was going to do with my time.  I promised him that at least once I would be purchasing some bon-bons and watching stories on TV.)  

And sometime, Lord willing, Sloan and I will be travelling to China to bring back our youngest child, Charlie.  Henry and Gracie will be staying with my sister and this way she doesn’t have to worry about getting Henry to school everyday.  And once we return with Charlie, it will be nice to have some time where Henry is home with us during the day.   He is going to have a new little brother that needs his sweet gentle spirit to teach him what being in a family is all about.

4 Years of Funtastic!

My sweet boy turned four today.  He is tender hearted, eager to learn, bright, generous, a tad bit tied to routine, and in love with trains, monsters, Spiderman, and simply being silly.  Just this morning he told me how to spell Stop, Go, Mommy and Daddy.  No idea how he figured that out.  I think he gets his engineer's temperment from his Grandpa Phillips, who was a chemical and mechanical engineer.  Pretty sure he gets the silly from his Dad and me.  Oh well.

 Henry, in his birthday crown, waits to be celebrated at school.

 Mrs. K dons the birthday boy with the birthday cape.

 Henry is in the center of "the cake".  The inner circle is the "candles", so of course, he "blew" them out at the end of the song.  So cute.

 Eating his munchkins and  Juice Bags that we brought in for his birthday snack with his classmates.

 After a birthday lunch at Chick-Fil-A with his bestie, A, who then came over for some cake, present opening, and a playdate. 

 My sweet son even let his best girl open a present for him. Sure hope she knows how lucky she is to be loved by him!

Lightning McQueen cars from Uncle Bill, Aunt Pam, and the Johnson cousins.

Daddy helps Henry put together his new Chuggington chug wash so Henry and A could play with his trains.

My darling, Henry, you've been a miracle since we first saw six cells through Dr. T's microscope.  The sound of your laughter is infectious.  I pray there is never a day when you doubt you are loved--by your family and by God. 

Proud Momma

Henry is the little boy above the P in Preschool.  And he is wearing a purple polo shirt and puts a box of pasta in a bag.  Then he picks his nose.  Classic.  I'm also proud of his school.  He now prays for his "friends" that are hungry in addition to saving his happy meal toys (his choice!) for Operation Shoe Box.

First Day of School

Don't let the picture fool you.  He was very excited about going to school.  Even excited about wearing his school shoes.  He just doesn't like to have his picture taken.

He's a green frog this year.

He was a little sad this his BFF Aimee wasn't in his class, but he "found her in da sandbox." 

Apparently, he also "dwank womenade, ate pwetzels and goldfish, peed in da wittle potty, and cooked a meal in his kitchen."

When I asked him if he had fun, he replied, "Yes, I had fun.  I go home and pway twains and den you take me back."  I promised to take him back tomorrow.  And then every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for the rest of the year...

Pithy comment: The Trouble with titles

Senior year of high school, my English teacher was Dr. Gutsell.  Although she had some serious oddities, she is easily one of the best teachers I've ever had.  At Christmastime, we decorated a Yule tree.  She was adamant it was not a Christmas tree, despite the fact that  it was a giant Frasier fir and we spent a class time armed with glue sticks and glitter creating ornaments about our favorite scenes from Beowulf, Dickens, or Graham Greene.  In the corner of her room, she'd fashioned a sitting room complete with vinyl orange sofa and other furniture the 1970's left behind. This was so, on occasion, we could all relax and wax philosophical about the literature we'd read. Very bohemian.  It could have only been more hip if we'd traded that Yule tree in for an Espresso machine all the girls donned berets and the boys, goatees. 

My two favorite oddities were in regards to writing--all papers had to be HANDWRITTEN on UNLINED paper with a FOUNTAIN PEN complete with a title page that did NOT have our name on it.  The anonymity of the title page was so that we could, on the days papers were due, sit in the hipster corner and listen to her read each title aloud.  She would read the title aloud and then as though she was Johnny Carson doing his Amazing Kreskin sketch, she would predict whether or not the paper was any good, would be enjoyable to read, or perhaps (egads?!) a total snoozefest.  (Okay, she probably didn't use that term.  She probably said something like "That sounds rather insipid..." or sigh and say, "How banal".)

Many parents complained--particularly about their children having to write in their papers longhand when we all had mighty fine Apple IIGS's at home.  But I loved the writing everything out.  It required being deliberate.  And I found the constant smear of ink on my hand made me feel like a very serious writer. And the titles?  Dude, I was all over it!!!  I would usually select some obscure yet pithy quote from the book followed by a colon followed by yet another profound statement that better explains the thesis of the paper.  I only remember one title.  I'd written about Graham Greene's crime novel, Brighton Rock.  My paper's title--"This were a fine reign: How to get away with murder".  It was deemed a title that peaked the interest of the reader.  She was looking forward to reading the paper. 

Since then, I have loved the challenge of coming up with witty titles.  You may have noticed that about this blog.  The trouble with this is, out of context, I have no idea what these titles mean.  I have complained about this before.  And I'm putting another draft of my book together and looking to see if there are any chapters of things I've left out and am searching old computer files. And apparently, when writing thesis papers, I tend to title the documents with whatever I am feeling at the time.

Imagine my delight when I stumble upon the following titles and paper subjects that I wrote for graduate school.  Funnier still when you remember that my degree is from a SEMINARY.  HA!!! You will be happy to see that my "quote:explanation" form is still in tact.

• This damn paper is worth 50% of my grade.doc-- For a Christian Education class, actually titled  Hope Deferred: The Effects of Rape on Emotional and Spiritual Development. 
• Draft 2 of mother-effing paper.doc--For my Old Testament class, actually called For in this hope we were saved: Romans 16:20 as the Fulfillment of Genesis 3:15
• Prof. W can suck it.doc--For a New Testament class, actually called You Foolish Galatians: A Writer looks at Paul's use of Sarcasm.

When I say Pumpkin, You say Patch!

I've been trying to teach Henry to say Trick or Treat. I've even told him that anytime, and I mean anytime, he wants candy all he has to do is say "Trick or Treat." What I get, instead, is this..."Say Trick or Treat." "Candy!" "Alright, say Trick." "Treat!" "No, say trick or treat." "Candy!" Lather, rinse, repeat.

So trying to explain to him that we are going with his preschool to the Pumpkin Patch has elicited the following..."Henry, say pumpkin." "Patch!" "Can you say Pumpkin Patch?" "Yeah." "Prove it. Say pumpkin patch." "Hay ride!" Yes, Henry. There will be a hay ride.

"Patch! Mommy, Punkin!"

"Uh oh. Punkin geen. Geen. Yuck, punkin geen."

"Trac-a-tor WHEEL!"

"Hay RIDE!"

Lovin' on my lady friend.

(But please notice, Mommy, that Aimee and I have agreed to not look at the camera or smile at the same time. Even if you take this picture 12 times.)

He is literally screaming into the petting zoo feeding tube "Hey! You are hop hops! Hey! You are hop hops!" Thanks, big guy. There's nothing worse than a bunny identity crisis.

First Day of School, First Cast

The Lortab made Henry high. I kept hearing him chatting over the monitor and then he'd bust out laughing. Eventually he went to sleep and only woke up once around 4am. I let him eat breakfast in front of the TV because his arm kept getting stuck in his high chair. I am very afraid I'm setting myself up for some BAD BAD mojo once things get settled down. I had to explain that school had lots of toys just when I turned off Superwhy to avoid a meltdown.

All ready for school in his new Sperry Topsider shoes and the tote bag Mommy sewed.

Henry discovers he can stow away trains in his sling.

Or as he calls it, "Hiding choo choo!" "Henry, stand up and look at Mommy.

Smile because you are exited to go to school!"

"Whatevs, Mom."

When we get to school, I inform Henry that he cannot take in his choo choo, James. We compromise. I let him put James in his school bag. And please don't try to correct him--he calls it his backpack and gets pretty pissed if you say it is just a bag.

"Henry, come back. That's not the way to your class!"

We made it to preschool orientation and were happily surprised to see many familiar faces from our gym's childcare. He did very well. When his teacher asked him if he liked school and would like to come back, he said "Yeah!" and then went up to her and hugged her.
Notice that the sling is pretty much useless and in no way constricts his movements.

Getting his cast was a breeze. Should you have little ones, I highly recommend Dr. Kim at West End Orthopedics. I regret having given him more Lortab at lunch (thinking getting the cast would be painful). Henry was a monster, or rather, was just really fussy--one second wanting his Hop Hop and the next wanting nothing to do with his stuffed rabbit. I have no idea how Moms of fussy babies do it. I imagine there is lots of drinking involved?

He was very still and is now the proud wearer of a Carolina Blue cast. (GO HEELS!!!!) At first the doctor brought in dark blue and I said, "Umm. We can't wear Duke Blue. It's against our religion. If you don't have Carolina Blue, then we'll have to go with Gamecock Red or Tennessee Orange." The doctor laughed and obliged us. He also advised another day or so of rest (aka TV time) to let all the swelling go down and then he'll have no restrictions. We go back for a check up and hopefully to get the cast off in 5 weeks.

We went to Toys R Us after the Doctor's to get a train and he was so mad that I wouldn't let him out of the cart, the manager brought him a balloon and some woman offered him candy from her purse. (No thank you, crazy lady.) I did, however, open up a bag of Twix for him, which just made him the kid screaming "Up Up Up!" and then "Choo Choo Choo" with chocolate all over his face. I literally had to keep reminding myself, "He's two. Yelling at him won't calm him down. Pretend to be calm. Be thankful you are not having to go through this while pregnant and that it is just a broken arm." Oh, and did I mention that while he was screaming I noticed that his last 4 molars are coming in? Awesome. The end of a LONG day turns out well. Chillin' on the couch. Rockin' my Carolina Blue cast. Watchin' Bolt--a movie where a dog gets on a train. Could it get any better?

Sloan is expected home around 4:30. I expect to crack open a beer at 4:31. I hope Sloan has been thinking about what he is going to cook for dinner.

He's In

In case you were worried, Henry will not be uneducated. Today I secured him a spot at Central Baptist Day School for the 2009-2010 year. Depending upon the ages of the rest of the class, he may not be able to start until the end of October (when he actually turns 2 1/2), but he is in. Mondays and Wednesdays, from 9:30-12:30, he'll be in a class with 9 other students and 3 teachers. They do centers, have a great playground, chapel twice a month, and appear to make some pretty cool things with glitter and paint. I am very happy about the program.
Even if they do sing kum-ba-yah.