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.

Ice Creams III and IV

In this first one, the girls and I were attending a meet and greet at the girls' art camp.  

I'm hoping building the association with ice cream makes drop off at camp that much easier.  We'll see.

Then, for Ice Cream Occasion Part IV, we were right in JP.  Frances had been trying to ride her bike.  Many tears.  Then we fed her ice cream and we were back in roses.

Chandler looks overly serious for a girl with ice cream.  No theories on that.

Think how much ice cream we'll eat when jackets are no longer necessary?!

One More Field Trip

Chandler and I joined Frances's class for one more field trip.  But first Chandler had to fill some glasses with water, in case we got "firsty."  (In all honesty, she's been entertaining herself with pouring water ever since this photo was taken.  As long as I overlook the occasional flood, it's wonderfully self-sufficient of her.)

And then we met up with Frances's class at the Arboretum.  It is so very beautiful there.  The Arboretum staff did a great job breaking up the class into small groups and leading them through observation activities.  Some of the kids were more observant than others, it's true, but I think they all got something out of it.  Then we ate lunch and the kids spent the last half hour running up and down this big hill.  Chandler is the white t-shirt in the middle of the picture.

I'd say it was a huge success and by far the easiest field trip of the year.  I wish they could go once a season.  I'm just a fount of ideas BPS will never have the money to implement.

We Live in the Best State

After buying our new (to us) car, we headed north for about an hour, and landed at the Crane Estate.  Really, I should have taken a picture of the house for context, but I was much more pleased with the back yard.

In this first picture, the house is behind me, three hills roll out in front of me and that's the ocean in the distance.  The small blue smudge in the middle is Frances, for a sense of scale.

Everyone was happy.  I think Mark has wanted to visit the estate for a while, but we usually just visit the beach down below the house.  The Olmstead Brothers designed the grounds.  They were Not At All Bad.

This is the casino, between hill one and hill two.  The hills and valleys are so high and deep that the casino isn't visible from the house (at least not from the back porch where we were; I'm guessing a hint of the casino is visible from the upper floors).  

Frances on the left; Chandler on the right.

Looking out at the ocean.

A little bi-plane was doing aerial stunts for us while we walked to the ocean.  That was...thrilling.  No one I know and/or love is allowed on a bi-plane ever, ok?

The estate has four miles of hiking trails, so we meandered.  Frances and Chandler are the teeny, tiny blue spots in the middle of the photo.

Then we found the beach and...

...the clothes started to come off.

I had to stop taking photos at this point.

When Chandler was good and soaked, we loaded the kids back in the car and headed for Russell Orchards.  Mark and I bought ourselves a little picnic dinner.  And the girls had apple cider donuts and ice cream for dinner.  We were shivering with cold by then, because it's May in Massachusetts, but still you could do so much worse.

Good-bye, Old Friend

We said farewell to our car this weekend.   It cost us more in maintenance last year than it was worth in resale, so clearly it was time.

Still, this was very hard for me for several reasons.  One, I hate spending money.  Two, we couldn't find a manual to buy, so we had to buy an automatic.  This is way more painful to me than it should be, but there it is.  And, three, Chandler was born in that car.  It is where I felt like the rockstar of birth.  Big sigh.

Since the car had to go, I had to be content with a photo with Chandler in the car.  She had no idea why I needed that photo, but she will understand someday.  And then Frances needed to participate.

Good-bye, Accord, you were a trooper.