Lesson one

This is my favorite room in our house. Not because it has a brick floor that shows no dirt and is super easy to clean when I get around to it. And not because it has the comfiest chair, either. This particular room is my favorite because it features the marshmallow oven. (I believe some families refer to it as a fireplace.)

So we put my favorite room to its intended use, and educated the kids on the fine art of toasting the perfect marshmallow. (Because without the perfect marshmallow, it is impossible to make the perfect s'more. And that lesson is coming up soon.) 

Caleb exhibited the most patience, eager to learn how to master this necessary life skill without catching his marshmallow on fire. (He also wins the award for most eager to get as close to the flames as possible.)

Abby mostly stood around being cute, supervising as I toasted her marshmallows for her and panicking if they didn't turn out just right.

And Jacob wisely sat on the couch, away from the siblings waving coat hangers with flaming balls of sugar on the end of them, and waited for us to hand over perfectly browned marshmallows for his consumption.

A fun time was had by all.

Why we homeschool

Because sometimes, she loves math so much that she just wants to do a whole week's worth of math lessons in one day. And since I'm the teacher, that's just fine with me.

And sometimes, we've worked on a concept for weeks without it really making sense to my young pupil. And then suddenly, putting numbers in the tens or the ones place just clicks, and the purpose of the number line is no longer so mysterious, and double-digit addition is no harder than single-digit addition.

And I get to watch the excitement of mastering a new skill unfold right before my very eyes.

Safety first

Putting Levi in the exersaucer thing had less to do with developmental readiness and more to do with safety. (For the record, I'm pretty sure it's called a Baby Entertainer. But I promise you the plastic animals on this thing are not nearly as entertaining as the real life circus he lives in.)

When you're too little to roll out of the way quickly, it can be dangerous to be lying on the floor around here. Our much-loved jungle play mat is proving less and less useful with each kid.

In other news, Levi and Jacob were both captivated by this new addition to our living room decor for at least ten minutes, which is exactly how long it took for Jacob to notice that I was using his blankie to prop up his brother.

Officially adorable

You can go ahead and take a moment while the cuteness sinks in. I'll wait.

.......................

At four months, Levi actually is getting cuter by the day. It's true. His doctor even made a note of it in his chart when we went for his check up.

"Additional notes: Adorable baby. Happy. Active. Big blue eyes."  I watched her write it down. Adorable baby is the official diagnosis. I never doubted for a second.

We have another tall, thin baby on our hands. Levi measured in the 75th percentile for height and the fifth percentile for weight. Seems that "active" part is helping him burn off every calorie I'm putting in him. We'll be beefing up his feedings with some bottles and oatmeal soon.

He took his four month shots like a man, only whimpering once. I was so proud of him, I took myself out for coffee afterward.

We had a minor setback in the Get Levi Out of My Closet campaign (more on that later), but we're actively working toward a solution that is agreeable to all parties. Until then, he's welcome to share space with my sweaters so long as he continues to be a fabulous sleeper. So far, so good.

Sweating the small stuff

Caleb was promoted to the rank of Sea Horse at swim school about a month ago, and I haven't had the heart to tell him until now.

Oh we're proud of him, all right. And thrilled for his progress. But his graduation from Barnacle to Sea Horse is bittersweet, and I blame it all on a silly little rubber bracelet. A red one, to be exact. With "barnacle" embossed in all caps. The one his swim school ran out of. And the one they're no longer going to be giving away.

So even though he did everything his coach said he had to--even though he can swim with his eyes in, with no back float, half the distance of the pool--even after all that, he only has one bracelet to bring home.

Abby has two. One for the level she started in, and one for the level she moved up to. And ever since the day that I first realized the bracelets existed, I've been digging through the little basket of bracelets, trying to find a red one for Caleb, and promising him that I would get him one. A red one, to be exact. With "barnacle" embossed in all caps. The details matter, because there were lots of bracelets in that basket, but the one he wanted, the one he'd earned, wasn't there.

"Did you find my bracelet?" he asks every week after his lesson. Not yet, I tell him, but I'll keep looking.

They told me more were coming, and I in turn told Caleb.

And I learned my lesson in always checking my sources.

Because it turns out, there are no more bracelets coming. And my three-year-old will have his yellow Sea Horse bracelet, just like his sister. But there will be no red one. At least not from the swim school.

But I promised this kid a red bracelet. And he'll have one. With "barnacle" embossed in all caps. Even if it costs me $14 to order just one custom bracelet. Because when you're three, stuff like this matters. And a promise is a promise.

Barbershop quartet

It's haircut week for the men of the family of fish, and Levi got initiated into the boys' club this time. I decided to try to remedy his pompadour with a little buzz cut action, but my efforts were for naught. The fluffy sideswept mohawk is gone, and in its place is a feathery blond flattop.

And yet, his cuteness remains unaffected. Good thing I still have a few years before he starts critiquing my hair cutting skills.

Joyfully Two

He was born to party. He was born to boogie. And he was most definitely born to be wild. And I love every bit of it.

But the fact that he was born two years ago? I'm having trouble wrapping my mind around that one.

At two, Jacob never holds still. When he's not chasing his older sister or tackling his older brother, he's roaming around the house looking for things and lining them up or stealing baby wipes and cleaning the furniture or hunting down his baby brother, "Wuhvi."

He's still long and lean, although his slender frame is more likely due now to his state of perpetual motion than to the feeding woes we've dealt with in the past. His eating seems to have turned a corner, and while we still deal with our fair share of suppertime pickiness now and then, Jacob is, for the most part, a very good eater now. And for this, we are very, very thankful. His favorite foods are still Mediterranean cuisine, Willie's pork burritos and Mellow Mushroom's pepperoni and olive pizza. But we've learned through trial and error that however much he may love these foods at the restaurant, bringing them to a new location (take out or leftovers, for instance) renders them somehow unpalatable in the mind of our favorite two-year-old. (No complaints here. I'll take eating out over cleaning up dinner any day.)

He's a ray of sunshine. Seriously. His smile lights up his whole face, and the whole room. He has an infectious laugh and his hugs make you feel like you must be the most loved person in the whole world. He wants to be held, he wants to be close and he wants to snuggle. When Jacob is around, no song is a solo and no lap stays empty for long. He's a people person, and it only takes a few minutes with him for everyone to notice.

He's thoughtful and helpful. He's quick to share a blanket or a beloved puppy with a crying baby, or to bring a truck to a big brother (as long as he's not busy with it himself), or to retrieve misplaced frogs for an absentminded sister when she can't recall where she left them. He brings me my phone if I lay it down, my shoes if he wants to go outside, and he's occasionally attempted to bring me the baby when he thinks Levi needs a little bit of attention. Perhaps because it's the response he gets from adults who bump into him, Jacob's in the habit of reaching out and rubbing the top of someone's head when he offends them or is asked to say he's sorry. The other kids have picked up on this, and are quick to stoop over and offer the top of their heads for rubbing when we ask Jacob to apologize to them for something.

He's still a man of few words. His pediatrician described him as a very effective non-verbal communicator, and that pretty much sums it up. He has a few words that are pretty understandable, and he gets very excited when the people around him comprehend what he's trying to say. "Eh-pain! Ty!" translates to "Airplane! Sky!" and comes in handy when our house gets buzzed by one of the Air Force's C-5s. "Uh voo" might be one of my new favorite Jacobisms, running a close second only to "uh voo, Mommy" ("I love you, Mommy"). He can say the names of most of his close family members, except for Caleb, whom he also calls Jacob, and Granddaddy, whom he acknowledges with a noise that sounds something like "bear shadow." He has names for a few of his toys and some items around the house, although it takes some context clues to figure out if he's asking for a bouncy ball, his pajamas, or a Christmas tree, since most of his other words all sound the same. More often than not, when we ask him to say something new, he just flashes us an impish grin and replies with a very clear "No!" followed by hysterical laughter that tells us he thinks he's totally got the upper hand in this whole talking thing. And since we usually can't help but laugh with him, he might be right.

He is determined. We joke sometimes that he has Abby's personality in a little boy's body (which could be very dangerous), and the truth is that we see in both of them some very strong Type A tendencies. Jacob is ambitious in his efforts and driven to succeed at even the most mundane tasks, and very frustrated when his hands cannot do what his brain wants them to. I made the mistake recently of building him a little house out of some homemade blocks, but failed to realize that when he could not recreate my structure on his own, the joy of block building would be totally lost. He loves organization and can be counted on to sort and arrange messes left unattended. He's my go-to guy for straightening our pile of shoes, dividing crayons into piles based on how broken they are, lining up stuffed animals or stacking books. He does not like to be helped, interrupted or coerced. This, I imagine, could mean we have some pretty terrible twos in our near future. Only time will tell.

It has not been an easy two years with Jacob. From his ongoing eating issues, countless trips to doctors, that incident with the fingertip having to be sewn back on, and every little bump and bruise in between, I often feel like this kid's kind of getting off to a rough start. And yet through (most of) it all, he's just as joyful and fun to be around as I could hope for. I can't help but think that God really is answering our prayer that He would fulfill in our Jacob's life the promise He gave to the Jacob of the Old Testament when He said, "Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land. For I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you" (Genesis 28:15). As much as I hate to see the years passing by so quickly, I'm eager to see what God has in store for this little guy, and to find out how he will use Jacob's exuberance, his joy and his sweet spirit in his own life and to touch others.

Happy birthday little buddy! 

Quiet time

A while back, in a desperate attempt to regain control of my household, I created some quiet time activity boxes. The goal was to have one activity per box that was fairly self-explanatory, could be enjoyed by one kid at a time, alone in his or her room, for an unsupervised 20 minutes or so. It had to be cheap, easy to unpack and put away, and fit in a plastic shoe box. My activities have been a huge hit, and the kids actually get excited when tell them to chose an activity and banish them to their rooms for a bit while I clean up breakfast or prepare dinner or (heaven forbid!) go to the bathroom by myself. They also work great for when a particular child is getting a little out of hand and needs to spend a few minutes in isolation to regain composure.

Even Jacob gets in on the action, which is a lovely perk of the activity boxes that I had not predicted. Although his method of playing with them is not what I envisioned, it still accomplishes the goal of getting him out from underfoot for a few moments when needed. There's only one box that he likes, and it's the one full of foam blocks that I made by cutting up a bunch of kitchen sponges. I'm certain its his favorite because he can build huge towers with them and knock them over with as much force as he wants without getting into any trouble. (The foam block--unlike its ugly counterpart, the wooden block--makes no noise, leaves no marks, and has zero potential to break windows or leave bruises.)

The excitement lasts anywhere from 5 to 6 minutes, at which point he laughs hysterically, shoves them into a pile, and moves on to his favorite alone-in-his-room activity: removing all of the baby wipes from their container. Thankfully, he's a very orderly child, so after he removes the wipes, he lines them up on his floor, folds them in quarters, stacks them neatly and brings them downstairs to me. What he wants me to do with them at that point, I have yet to figure out.

But hey, at least he stayed quiet.

Trail blazing

It happened so gradually, I barely noticed. (This probably has a lot to do with the fact that I was not the one stooped over chasing her bike up and down our street pretending to hold on while she gained enough confidence to fly solo.) But shortly after her fifth birthday, it did happen. And just like everything else she puts her mind to, Abby's successfully up on two wheels, just the way she said she would be when she turned five.

Now she breezes past our house and into the cul de sac with the big girls who are kind enough to ride at a pace she can keep up with. And then before we know it, she's pedaling past us the other way, careful to go no farther than the next mailbox that is her present boundary marker.

And following not too far behind is the little brother who wants to do everything his big sister does. He's long grown bored of propelling his balance bike with his own two feet and has mastered the art of pointing his little bicycle downhill and coasting for as far as it will take him. The thought of receiving a big boy bike when he turns four--"just like Abby did!"--is a driving force as he practices racing around and keeping steady.

And so, on a mild night in November, we found ourselves chasing kids on wheels around the trails at a local park, checking one of the last remaining items off our Summer Fun List.

For the record, the kids could care less that we're still working on our list of summer activities well into Autumn. They got a new little brother in July. That totally beats out tie-dying t-shirts and splashing in a fountain.

Cute things he does

Optional subtitle:
The ever-expanding list of adorable things I love about this baby

He smiles like this all the time now. Especially when he's being tickled. Or when Abby talks to him. Or when we look at him. Or if he's awake. 

And when he's not awake, he looks like this. (See? Still totally adorable.) In this, his favorite of sleeping positions, he reminds me of Atlas, only a little more carefree. Instead of the world, I imagine him holding up one of those little blow up beach ball globes.

Makes me smile every time.