I know I've said it before, but stop the clocks. You are going to be 5 - FIVE, in just a few weeks. FIVE. That seems impossible, because five seems like such a big kid number, especially since you could be heading off to public school come September. But because I just can't imagine you crossing that threshold, you'll be in Kindergarten at your beloved Waldorf school, and I know already it will be a fantastic year. You'll have the same wonderful teacher you had last year, and almost all of your crew is returning, which is a good thing. I hope you will treasure the time you'll have with this group as much as I treasure the thought of you having it.
You have spent the last few weeks showing how utterly reasonable you can be. Except for on the car ride home from Chincoteague, but you were exhausted, and sad that our fun vacation was ending, so I forgive you that one. Helen and you fight like cats and dogs sometimes, but other times, you two are the best of friends. Take, for example, a few nights ago when there was a whale of a thunderstorm. You and Helen remain convinced that your room has less thunder, so she piled into your bed with you, and she hugged cat all night, and you hugged her. It might rank as my most precious moment relating to parenting the two of you to date. I almost photographed it, but I was afraid I'd wake one of you up, and I don't like the idea of waking two perfectly happy, sleeping children.
Your swimming continues to improve. Now, you almost have a legitimate stroke. And really, it's not even scary at all to watch you jump off the diving board over, and over, and over again. Tonight though, we were at a friend's pool party and I did have to end your time on the slide. You must have gone off that thing 50 times, and I was starting to get worried you were just too exhausted to swim safely to the side. You protested, of course, but then had a fun time swimming around with other kids.
Rules.Rules.Rules. You love making them, love slanting them in your favor, and get super annoyed when I overrule you or Helen ignores you. Chill out, dude. Life is short. You also tend to think the world is out to get you sometimes, and probably it is some days. But most days, you live on easy street.
You play with your stuffed animals a lot, and often have a very elaborate animal hospital with animals with all matter of injuries or illnesses. Lucky for them, you seem to be pretty adept at fixing them.
You're a thoughful little guy. Tonight, you insisted we bring a pitcher of lemonade and a cucumber to share at the brithday party we were attending. Both went over quite well. It's always nice to bring a little something to the host.
I love our afternoons together. You've started napping a bit lately, but I think that's just because the heat is so draining. Most of the time, Helen naps while you enjoy a book or craft project. It's nice to spend time alone with you. One day, we even went to our first Broadway style show and that was really quite fun. I'm curious what you'll think of the show at the children's theatre we frequent next time we're there. It will certainly be quite scaled back. But, it will also be with friends and something that will be much more easily digested.
Oh, and how could I forget this? We went to see THOMAS THE TRAIN. It seems like ages ago now, but when we spent the week in Kansas, Thomas the Train was there, and against my better judgment, we went. You can thank my friends with older children for that, since every one of them told me it was fantastic. What was not fantastic was that it had poured the day before, and the Thomas event was in a huge mudpit by the time we got there. In fact, we borrowed Aunt Linda's car to get there, and it got stuck in the parking lot. And since all of the volunteers in the parking were at least 80 years old, your dad ended up pushing the car out by himself. The car (and your dad) were covered in mud. That might have been the last time Aunt Linda allowed us to borrow her car, in fact. Lucky for us, we were all pretty clean because Grandma had brought a towel, so we stopped at a water pump to clean up while Dad was fetching the car.
We also went to our first opera! Nancy Faber wrote an opera for children based on the story of the Snow Queen. She played flute, her husband, Randall Faber played piano, and a real opera singer sang. It was really cool, and might have been your dad's first opera as well. You sat through the whole thing watching intently. Aunt Linda is a fancy dan in the community of Kansas and Missouri piano teachers, so she invited us to attend this performance. The Fabers are well known for their innovative approach to teaching piano.
Time is really starting to race, Connor. I'm glad I have you to run through it with.
Love,
Mommy
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