Field Day

Frances's "new" school closed out the school year with a Field Day.  At her old school, Field Day was all about bouncy houses and face paint.  At her new school, Field Day is about races.  Frances was nervous.  She begged me to attend.  I did, of course.

Frances's first event was a relay with one of her best buddies.

She did well.

Her second event was hurdles.

She was convinced she deserved a higher ranking ribbon, but by that point in the day the parent volunteers were fading fast.  I said something like, "Yay!  A ribbon!" to cheer Frances up.

Then there was dancing - some dances I recognized and others I did not.  Frances knew them all.  That's Chandler in the peach dress, left of center, dancing between Nayary and Frances.  And Frances's beloved Ms. Coughlan is the adult in the foreground in green khaki pants and a yellow top.

I think Frances will be much more excited about Field Day next year.

Dept. of Battles Not Worth Fighting

I'm not sure what I'm going to do with myself when this kiddo is in school.  Well, I'll get out of the car faster, but besides that, I don't know what I'll do with myself.

My Chefs

I made pancakes.  The girls decided to dye them.  I was so proud.  Way to get involved, kiddos.

They thought better of eating the pancakes once they were cooked.  The pancakes did look disgusting.  I was so proud.  Way to not eat strangely colored food, kiddos.  I salute you, my little weirdos.

Ninety-One Months of Frances, the Rising Second Grader

Ninety-One Months Fun Fact:

• Perfection:  Frances's teacher got all ambitious during the very last days of school:  She tried to read the kids Matilda.  Possibly not a screaming success because they didn't make it much farther than the second chapter.  They did make it through the list of books Matilda had read by the age of four, including The Secret Garden.  So Frances needed to visit the library and check it out.  Here's the best part:  As we were walking to the playground after the library, a mom stopped me to say that Frances reminded her of Matilda.  She wasn't even carrying around a book at the time.  Perfection.

Fifty-Two Months of Preschooler Chandler

Yes, three (junky) Dunkin Donuts doughnuts. I have a defense (sort of).  Chandler and I had taken the new car to have a bike hitch installed.  It was a two or three hour process - the shop guys couldn't be more specific.  So Chandler and I were left to entertain ourselves in a somewhat-rundown stripmall area.  Marching around a somewhat-rundown stripmall area with a hungry four year old didn't sound like much fun.  I decided to kill time with doughnuts.  (For what it's worth, she didn't get far at all with that last doughnut.)

Fifty-Two Month Fun Fact:

• Consumption:  She likes doughnuts, but never finishes her ice cream.  One scoop is too much for her.  I've eaten many scoop halves this summer.
• Academics:  Have I written about this?  I tried to teach Chandler her letters and failed miserably.  Miserably.  And she seems so young to me.  There are many self-care activities that she still won't do independently.  A couple of  the teachers at Frances's school have commented on Chandler's verbal skills and her comfort in the school, so I am doing my damnedest not to worry about how she'll do at school and just enjoy these last few months with her.  Sometimes I succeed, but sometimes not.  Chandler loves Ms. Coughlan, Frances's first grade teacher.  I told Ms. Coughlan to please call me if one day next year Chandler appeared in her room and refused to cooperate with anyone but Ms. Coughlan.  Ms. Coughlan just laughed, as though I was being so very silly.  I'm trying to be reassured by that laugh.