Rudolph's First Flight

This marks the end of your first semester at school and my, have you grown. My timid little boy has blossomed into an assertive child who makes friends with the neighborhood kids even if they might think you're a little young for their crowd (most are 8 or 9 and one, who is particularly awesome to you, is a SIXTH GRADER). You don't know it, but I saw you follow those boys the other day and demand that they acknowledge you. I observe a lot more than you realize, it's a parents job, and when you ask if I really have eyes in the back of my head, the answer is no, but I might as well have them.

Academically, I don't know what to say except WOW! You can actually write clearly now, and you are sounding out things to write in the cutest way. Your teacher asked what you did on Thanksgiving and your response was "we eetid"; so I know you are grasping the sounds of words (if not the grammar). I don't envy you, I can now see why the English language is one of the hardest to learn. Just look at the word "learn"; it's amazing that any of us every learn to read and write at all. The only words in that last sentence that made any sense, sound wise, is "at" and "and".

No longer am I "mommy" or even "mom". I am now, simply: M-O-M. "M-O-M, can you help me? M-O-M, can I have some lunch?" etc...

You definitely get math and numbers and it may be a little early to say this, but I think you are already fitting into the stereotypical ideal that boys do better in math. Not only do you grasp it easily, but you like it. You are constantly performing addition and subtraction in your head, telling time and counting. You love to quote prices for me. For instance: "MOMMY! That's two dollars and thirty-nine cents!", or, when looking at a can of beans "OH MY GOSH MOMMY, that can of beans is NINETY-NINE dollars!" (99 cents)

You know by now that I tend to beat myself up over the fact that I taught you very little before kindergarten started, but I do want to point out that I at least taught you silly bulls (syllables) before you learned it in school! I was really pleased with myself the day you came home and told me that your teacher taught you syllables and you were all "yeah, I know this already, my MOMMY taught me". I don't think that's what you actually said, but that's what you said in my head.

You are adjusting well to your new school. You even have a "job" that you perform with your new best friend. The two of you are tasked with carrying the lunch bucket - which I assume means the bucket that contains your classmates lunch boxes, sacks, etc... It's a little bit of responsibility and you love it. It means you break away from the class to walk to and from your classroom unsupervised and freedom like that is bliss to a six year old.

So when you came home on Wednesday and announced that you had "quit your job", I was taken aback. Apparently, you and your fellow bucket carrier were laughing on your way back from the lunch room and the other Kindergarten teacher came out and told you to be quiet. You get really b-u-t hurt (that's how you spell it) over stuff like that, so you quit your job.

I seized the opportunity to teach you a life lesson right then and there and I told you that everybody has bad days at work and if I "quit" every time I had a bad day, well, we wouldn't be living as pretty as we live now.

The next day you told me you decided to keep your job.

It's nice to know you sometimes wear your listening ears outside of school too ;)

Gingerbread House

You came home with a milk carton graham cracker gingerbread house concoction today and I sat it proudly on the table for you. I learned something new too: apparently I'm supposed to actually let you eat it. I've made a ton of gingerbread houses, but I like to display them and by the time the day after Christmas comes around, that crud is pretty stale. So please forgive me for throwing it out instead.

Love,

Your awful Mommy

Father Christmas - Do not let small children read!

I'm not sure how it happened, but you believe in Santa Clause, pretty much wholeheartedly. I've never encouraged the legend with total enthusiasm like a lot of parents, but apparently I've done enough. It's not like I have a problem with it and feel like I'm lying to you, really, and I don't have a problem with the actual encouragement of by other parents; it's just, I dunno, maybe I'm projecting onto you. See, I was NEVER a believer. I can remember being a small tyke and going along with the myth, but secretly feeling like I was doing it for my parents benefit. And that wasn't a bad thing, it was fun and it meant even more! presents! But when I finally asked my mom if Santa was real and she asked if I "really wanted to know", it was a relief. Sometimes I think you are a lot like me, sometimes I realize you are a lot like your dad and sometimes I realize you are your own little wonderful person; and your own little wonderful person wants to believe Santa is real. I think that means you are much more "cup half full" than I am.

My favorite Santa picture is the one from last year; we were at Disneyland and they had real reindeer and an awesome looking Santa dude. You were too busy, you wanted to go on rides and visiting Santa was not on your agenda. I made you go anyway and when you sat on the bench you turned away, crossed your arms and totally snubbed the old fella. But the funniest part of the picture is the fact that Santa followed suit and what resulted was a picture of Santa on one side of the bench, you on the other, and total looks of snubbery on both of your faces.

Needless to say, I didn't make you take a picture with Santa this year, because when it comes right down to it you like Santa, but you don't want to actually have to share space him.

Frosty

This is the closest you'll get to a snowman in this part of Arizona; in the twelve years I've lived here, I've seen it snow exactly twice: The first time was in 98 where it actually stuck for all of ten minutes, and the second time was a few years ago where the fat flakes were water by the time they hit the ground. So, there you go, an Arizona snowman, and just like unicorns and dragons, they are mythical creatures.

Nutcracker Sweet

One of the funniest things you do is to give words or phrases your own twist. For instance, you have a book, Big Chickens, and in that book the chickens are afraid to go into a cave because they think they might fall into a bottomless pit. When we were on a walk yesterday, you asked me if there was such a thing as a non-stop hole.

Then there's the time we were perusing the Christmas section at Macy's and you asked where the Peanut Chucker's were. You meant to say Nutcracker.

I think you are pretty creative.

Oh Christmas Tree

I planned on having you enrolled at your new school this week, but the school was in no hurry to enroll a new student on a three day week and a friend brought up a very good point: Since it is a holiday week, it is likely that both school's will be doing something fun on Wednesday and being the new kid would be no fun at all. So, your paperwork is turned in, but you won't start until Monday. I actually tossed around the idea of keeping you at your old school for the year, but ultimately, I know this is the better choice. I can come up with a multitude of reasons, but it really boils down to my work shift and keeping you out of afterschool care. Part of it is financial(why pay for afterschool care when it's not necessary?), but the other part of it is that I WANT to be able to pick you up from school. I want to be there when you come trudging out of the classroom in line formation. I want to know your teacher. I want to have this time with you while I can.

I drew you a Christmas Tree because it is relevant. Normally, I wait until after Thanksgiving to put up the Christmas decorations, but I needed the whimsy NOW, so the tree went up on Saturday. Yes, we are officially those people; the one's who have the Christmas station tuned in way before it's appropriate and the bah-humbug types can kiss my shiny red nose. Or Rudolph's, since I don't really have a shiny red nose.

I love the lights, the ribbons, the silver and gold and red. I love opening up the ornaments and reattaching memories to them. Each one is special, right down to the ugly purple-maned-unicorn-in-a-plastic-gazebo that I acquired during the oh-so-tasteful eighties. I buy you an ornament of your choice every year, usually something I consider less than beautiful (like a plastic superhero); in the hope that you smile as you unwrap those each year.

Just don't be surprised if they magically end up on the back of the tree with the unicorn.