tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-250995922024-03-07T04:12:44.779-05:00Life Is GroovyThe adventures of a Dad, his beautiful wife, and his amazing kids.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.comBlogger682125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-7312738921369498642012-03-04T21:50:00.000-05:002012-03-04T21:50:29.018-05:00The Great Name Debate - Jr. VersionFollowing up on the previous post a bit...<br />
<br />
Lately, we have been getting asked at least once a day what the baby's name is. We then have to go through the whole spiel that not only is the baby nameless, but we can't even come close to agreeing on anything. And I think what makes it even worse is that Kate and I are not used to disagreeing on something so vehemently. When we do disagree on most life matters we tend to compromise rather quickly. Naming this baby, though? Not so much.<br />
<br />
So. We decided to run some names (that we have been arguing about) by the kids after dinner tonight and get their reaction hoping it might help us. It didn't.<br />
Like the previous post, I will be giving their reactions only. (Though, some of you may be able to figure out a name or two.) <br />
<br />
<br />
J: Ha ha ha ha! That's a real name?<br />
A: I wike it!<br />
<br />
Jack: No, we can't name her that! The neighbors down the street have a Boxer named that!<br />
Amelie: I wike it!<br />
(FYI, our next door neighbors have a Golden named Lily, so this <i>would </i>make for some amusement.) <br />
<br />
J: No way! That name has the word "tear" in it! You would say her name it would be, like, *makes ripping noise* thump!<br />
A: I wike it!<br />
<br />
J: (Vehement head shaking in the negative with pursed lips and an incredulous look)<br />
A: I wike it!<br />
Kate: Thank you Jack. Amelie, don't encourage your Father. <br />
<br />
J: No, Elle has a baby doll with that name. That would be confusing.<br />
A: Yes! I wike it!<br />
<br />
J: Really? I love that name. Yes, let's name her that!<br />
A: No. Dat's not a good name.<br />
<br />
J: No, I liked the other name better.<br />
A: Can we name her "Pocky?"<br />
<br />
J: No, I...Hey! That's just like the other name, but it is missing the "M!" Hmmm, how about you put a "D" where the "M" was? That would make a cool name.<br />
A: I wike it! <br />
<br />
J: No, that's a weird name. Maybe you can make that her middle name?<br />
A: I wike it!<br />
Me: Yes! Thank you Jack. Amelie, don't encourage your Mother. <br />
<br />
J: No, that name is too long.<br />
A: I wike it! How about "Pocket?" Dat's a good name, too!<br />
<br />
J: No. I still like that other name better. I guess we are naming her that, right?<br />
A: No! We are naming her Pocket! Or Cheeky!<br />
J: Or Arm? Or Leg? Hahahaha <br />
Kate: Uh, I don't think either of you get to name the baby.<br />
J: (Cries)<br />
Me: Jack, sorry, but you also think "Earthrumble" is a good name.<br />
J: (Laughs)<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-25032068263056193992012-02-02T22:22:00.001-05:002012-02-02T22:22:32.294-05:00The Great Name DebateKate and I are knee deep in trying to figure out a name for Jellybean. (Confession, I originally typed balls instead of knee *cough*.) Jack has given up on his aspirations of having a sibling named "Earth Rumble," and has mostly decided to not play the name game. Amelie, though, is all about trying to come up with names for the baby. Surprisingly, none of her choices ever derive from a Disney Princess. She rotates between wanting us to name her Lucy, Peppermint Patty, or "Cheeky."<br />
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For Kate and me, this has been a lot harder this time around. We both arrived at Jack rather quickly and we both were rather pro-Lily from the start. (I think I kind of had to convince her of the coolness of Amelie, though.) This time, though...well, it could go down to the last second the way we are currently going. I thought I would share a snippet of how our conversations go by providing only Kate's responses to some of my ideas from the past few months.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Hmm, put it on the list and we will see.</li>
<li>Sure, put it on the list. It will give me something to cross off when we narrow down.</li>
<li>No. No names from Wagner operas.</li>
<li>No. No names from Tolkien.</li>
<li>Oh, it's not from Tolkien? Still no.</li>
<li>How did you not know the names of Obama's daughters?</li>
<li>That's how you would pronounce that? This is southern Ohio, you know.</li>
<li>... [cold stare] </li>
<li>Uh, we're not Indian.</li>
<li>I don't care how you try to spell it, we're not naming our daughter that.</li>
<li>You do realize there is a character on <i>Glee </i>named that, right? Oh, you don't like it anymore? </li>
<li>She'll be a baby, not a little old lady.</li>
<li>Well, that name will ensure that she grows up to be wild.</li>
<li>HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-oh, you were serious, weren't you? I'm sorry...HAHAHAHA</li>
</ul>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-44240113266382455652012-01-30T21:22:00.000-05:002012-01-30T21:22:56.910-05:00Cupcake Practice<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1q1qltB0cKqJ9fIwLHCLbrLnXocHx75cx21n5EW0IUlJwjIsNArii4yvXoh-cboHxlVN4cuO_viZunCyrXY4l44aDULCTz9qgEMRY3Tlt9uL3HNuETOdxWLldqflmSsdFzjl5/s1600/2012_0129_Jan_21-300001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1q1qltB0cKqJ9fIwLHCLbrLnXocHx75cx21n5EW0IUlJwjIsNArii4yvXoh-cboHxlVN4cuO_viZunCyrXY4l44aDULCTz9qgEMRY3Tlt9uL3HNuETOdxWLldqflmSsdFzjl5/s400/2012_0129_Jan_21-300001.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>
Amelie has been having a hard time deciding what type of birthday party she would like to have. Actually, that's not true. She knows what she wants: A Princess Butterfly-and-Ladybug My Little Pony, and um, Michael Jackson party. We just have wanted her to pick one of those and she has had trouble narrowing it down. We finally compromised and it will be a Princess (Rapunzel) Butterfly-and-Ladybug party. (And maybe we pressured her a bit to throw out the Michael Jackson part.)<br />
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Kate decided that if she is going to make the cupcakes for it, she should practice. I think her practice ones turned out awesome, and Amelie is very pleased and excited to have the "real" ones at her party. (She kept telling us that we were having a practice party.)<br />
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Kate made purple butter cream frosting for them. She plans on making the icing look a little nicer for the party than they look in the pictures, but her icing bag kept breaking the other night.<br />
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Here are the princess crowns. <br />
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And her first attempts at ladybugs. She got a little carried away with the antennae, but the kids thought it was great. As soon as she finished they both gleefully shouted, "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Toebiter" target="_blank">Toebiters</a>!" <br />
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Kate tried a couple of different butterfly styles. We were all in agreement that the one on the right was the way to go. <br />
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Finally, she made one I named the "Drunken Frog Takes a Bubble Bath with His Magic Wand."<br />
I don't think it will make the cut.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-20260101136934116362012-01-20T21:46:00.001-05:002012-01-21T07:47:39.829-05:00Amelie's New LookKate has been threatening for several months to chop off Amelie's hair. Actually following through with it has been another matter. To put it bluntly, her hair was beautiful. Everybody we told that we were going to cut it gave us grief. Of course, they did not have to deal with taking care of it. Washing it has been an ordeal, usually involving screaming in the shower. And she has not been crazy about letting me fix it in the morning. (That is an understatement.) Well, Kate finally found a place not called Cookie Cutters that specialized in kids and...<br />
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Before...<br />
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After...<br />
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We were worried that she would be upset, so we kept talking it up telling her she was getting it cut like a couple of the older girls she likes that live down the street. But we didn't need to worry because she was so proud. (Look at that grin!) She kept admiring herself in the mirror and talking about how pretty she looked. And it did indeed turn out super cute!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-30927669567665808952012-01-10T12:51:00.001-05:002012-01-10T12:51:24.275-05:00Jack's New Look<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Well, it was inevitable. Given Kate's and my atrocious vision, our children apparently are genetically predisposed to have bad eyesight. We had hoped it would be awhile yet before Jack needed them but we have noticed him squinting quite a bit while watching TV the past couple of months. I took him to the eye doctor and, sure enough, he is just like me--astigmatism and near-sighted, with the right eye worse than the left. For now, he does not need to wear them all the time, just at school and while watching TV. (Thankfully, not when he is playing or I don't think they would last long.)<br />
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Luckily, he was super excited to find out he needed glasses. He was counting down the days until they arrived and (literally) bouncing off the walls today before we went and picked them up. Hopefully, this enthusiasm continues.<br />
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Amelie was a bit jealous, so she has been wearing sunglasses non-stop since Jack got his glasses. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-72735834430642956602012-01-09T20:19:00.001-05:002012-01-09T20:19:29.325-05:00We Made Jack CryWe knew Jack really wanted a little brother. What we did not realize was just how much he was counting on the baby being a boy. I'm not sure what plans he had, but they must have been good.<br />
We gathered Amelie and Jack on the couch to break the news to them. Kate asked them one last time if they thought it was a boy or girl. Both Jack and Amelie shouted, "Boy!" Kate then told them, "No, you are having a little sister!"<br />
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And then Jack fell apart. I was videotaping it, but I can't bring myself to post the video. I've never seen Jack's face just <i>crumple</i> like it did. And then he just started sobbing. (Amelie shouted, "Yay!" by the way.) He was heartbroken. After he stopped crying he marched into the other room to play by himself. But, as five year olds do, he got over it rather quickly and fifteen minutes later was talking excitedly about what he is going to do when his new little sister arrives. (It also helped that I pointed out to him that he now gets most of my old Transformers from when I was little.)<br />
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Before tucking in Amelie, I asked her if she was excited that she is going to have a sister. She told me, "Yes! She will pway with me and say 'I'm a baby! I wuv you!" (Imagine that last bit said in a super squeaky voice.)<br />
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Now to figure out a name...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-54407922502594154782011-12-25T20:46:00.000-05:002011-12-26T20:47:04.003-05:00Happy Holidays!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-66910400078999124532011-12-24T15:12:00.002-05:002011-12-24T23:51:05.053-05:00Christmas Eve Train SurpriseWe had no family commitments today, so we thought we would take advantage of the free time and take Jack and Amelie to the Museum Center to see the holiday train exhibit. We tried to tell them that we were just running to the store but had to change it it to a "surprise" after ten minutes in the car when Jack noticed we were headed toward downtown. The boy is too clever for his own good.<br />
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We made it a pretty short trip since both kids were already worn out, and we did not want to exhaust them too much before Christmas. Jack was disappointed that we did not stay longer (and go to the Children's Museum while we were there), but he still had a great time--though it is hard to tell from this big fake smile.<br />
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This one actually has genuine enthusiasm behind it.<br />
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Of course, it was next to impossible to get pictures of them, since both Jack and Amelie were enthralled with the trains. Most of the ones I took were back of the head shots.f<br />
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Or they were "fine here is smile, now leave us alone" pictures.<br />
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In the caboose.<br />
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Amelie was excited that we found Thomas, coming out of a tunnel.<br />
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Look at how serious little boy is about his trains! <br />
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Amelie was having fun looking at her reflection in some giant ornaments.<br />
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Union Terminal is such a beautiful building. I forgot to get pictures, but we broke away from the crowds and went up to the tower to check out the freight train yards. <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-35267497548973115682011-12-20T21:31:00.000-05:002011-12-20T21:31:43.312-05:00An ArgumentJack wore a Santa Hat to school this morning. While we were walking down, I commented that he looked like a Jolly Little Elf. Then things got...ugly. It was the most bizarre fight I've seen in a while.<br />
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Jack: Yeah! I'm one of Santa's elves. And you are Santa!<br />
Amelie: Me too! I'm an elf too!<br />
J: No Lil', you can't be an elf.<br />
A: Yes, I am an elf!<br />
J: You can't be, you aren't wearing a Santa hat.<br />
A: (screaming) I'm an elf, too!<br />
J: No!<br />
A:...Den you are an elf, and I am...Michael Dackson!<br />
J:Well, then I am a Michael Jackson elf!<br />
A: No! You just an elf! I AM MICHAEL DACKSON!<br />
J: But...<br />
Me: Stop! Jack you get to be the elf. Amelie, you, um, get to be Michael Jackson. Now let's stop fight--<br />
J: (whining) But I wanna be Michael Jackson too-oo.<br />
Me: Look, the neighbors are giving us weird looks. Just be an elf, or give me the hat.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-60027241586791821742011-11-22T13:18:00.001-05:002011-11-22T13:39:22.855-05:00Kindergarten Thanksgiving FeastJack had his "Thanksgiving Feast" at school this morning. Kate volunteered us to make some of the Turkey sandwiches for it, and I went in to help. Actually, Jack made the sandwiches. He was pretty disappointed, though, because we were under strict orders about what went on them because of nut allergies in the class.<br />
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Jack: Mommy, uhhh, what about cheese?<br />
Kate: No, no cheese.<br />
J: Well, where is the mayonnaise?<br />
K: Just turkey, no mayo.<br />
J: So, we can't put cheese or mayonnaise on them? And it isn't nut and seed bread?<br />
K: No.<br />
J: Ew.<br />
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He still had a grand time and enjoyed it. All of the kids were dressed up like either "Pilgrims" or "Native Americans." Jack chose to be a Pilgrim, which kind of surprised me. Amelie went with me and she was mad because she did not get to dress up. She kept asking where the "Tanksgiving Mermaids" were, and that was what kind of costume she would pick. (I don't remember Mermaids in the Thanksgiving story. Disney version, maybe?) She was really good, though, because the other Moms kept sneaking her treats, like Oreos.<br />
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Jack is still young enough that he thought it was cool that his Dad and little sister were visiting him at school. He kept showing us off to his friends, with his chest all puffed out.<br />
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At the end, they sung a little song. (I'm breaking my rule of putting other people's children without their consent on here, but it's too darn cute.)<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-4994706625767046322011-11-09T08:56:00.001-05:002011-11-09T08:56:50.581-05:00Surprise!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-65505249103550965892011-11-02T23:10:00.002-04:002011-11-02T23:14:42.085-04:00The Little "Mommy"Much to the chagrin of grandparents, etc., Amelie refuses to play with dolls. She will not touch them. Anytime she has hold of one, she gets a very distrustful look on her face -- almost like someone just handed her a snake. Well, a snake may be a bad example since she actually loves to pet them when we go to the zoo. How about...a cheeseburger. She despises those. So, for the sake of this story doll = cheeseburger. But I digress. Badly. Anyway, she does not like dolls. (Or cheeseburgers.)<br />
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Even with a dislike off dolls, almost everything she plays revolves around there being babies and mommies. We have a Mommy Thomas and a Baby Thomas (The Tank Engine), a Mommy Mikapeen (Lightening McQueen) and a baby Mikapeen. Whether she is playing Ponies (as in My Little Pony) or even Transformers with Jack, there are babies to be taken care. Jack gets so frustrated when his Transformers are preparing for battle and Amelie's start discussing plans for a birthday party for Megatron. (Of course, Jack usually gets his revenge later when Transformers start attacking the My Little Ponies. Never a dull moment)<br />
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For once, Amelie let me take a video of her playing. It is pretty darn cut to see her acting like a little Mommy and tucking in Pup-Pup and New Puppy.<br />
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Oh, and for the record, she picked her own outfit.<br />
Also, when we tuck her in we usually leave her face uncovered.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-79414773332528795242011-10-31T21:34:00.000-04:002011-10-31T21:34:53.385-04:00This Is Halloween<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We survived the insanity that is Trick-or-Treating in our new neighborhood. And then we were informed this was a "quiet" year. The kids had a blast. Amelie did not last very long, as she was getting cold. Jack lasted a little longer, but he loves handing out candy more than getting it, I think, so we had to hurry back so he could distribute. I learned that next year I need to get Amelie to walk faster so we can keep up with the big kids on our street (Jack's age through 10)--their Dad's apparently pack a mobile beer cooler to take along.<br />
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This is the view from the bottom of our street as things were just getting started.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-6798698574806485212011-10-31T14:43:00.001-04:002011-10-31T14:43:56.972-04:00Jealousy (Warning! Contains Pets and Me, No Kids)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I think Frankie enjoyed being the only dog for a year...<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-91752599692517689572011-10-27T21:38:00.002-04:002011-10-27T21:38:32.700-04:00Books<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I can't say enough how much I love that our children are developing such a love of books. As evidenced in many places on this blog, Jack has for a long time loved to make himself a snugly place and curl up with a big pile of books.<br />
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And Amelie happily does the same thing. Though she does tend to one up him on the snugly end...<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-64541275520981370222011-09-23T08:31:00.000-04:002011-09-23T08:31:26.469-04:00The Boy...um...The Bird Wonder, or, Confused Sidekicks*Last night's dinner conversation*<br />
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Kate: Jack, what did you do in recess today?<br />
Jack: Oh, we played Batman again.<br />
K: Were you Batman?<br />
J: No, I'm never Batman. I'm always Robin.<br />
K: Why are you always Robin?<br />
J: Because, he is cool! He has a beak and goes around pecking people.<br />
Me: Huh? Wait a minute. Robin does not have a beak.<br />
J: [The "you're pretty dumb for a Dad" eye roll] Of course he does, Daddy!<br />
K: Jack...Robin is not a bird.<br />
J: Yes he is. Robins are birds.<br />
K: But...Batman's friend Robin is just a person.<br />
J: So, he dresses up as a bird.<br />
Me: No, he just wears tights, a mask, and a cape. Sometimes.<br />
J: [Big sigh] Robins. Are. Birds. Why would he be called Robin and not dress up like a bird?<br />
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Me: I think we have some Batman to watch...Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-89493822336566626732011-09-01T15:11:00.026-04:002011-09-04T20:54:52.592-04:00Big Girl Bed<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
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</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I think the transition from a crib to a "real" bed is one of those areas that non-parents see us parents blathering about and just shake their heads and roll their eyes at our excitement/trepidation.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But it is a pretty big deal. Along with diapers, it is kind of the last visible sign that your child is still a baby. More than anything, I think the crib is the most obvious representation of babyhood. And though we want to see our children grow and evolve into little people, it is hard to let go of the fact that they are no longer babies. </div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Of course, the other downside of not having a crib is that they are now free to roam around and a handy "jail" is no longer there to contain them. Let's be honest.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We've put off transitioning Amelie to a bed quite a bit longer than we did Jack. Our excuse list for not doing so was long (a new house will be enough change, etc.) but mostly we just did not want to. But, alas, she was very ready and very excited.</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Perhaps the smile on her face for her first nap in the Big Girl Bed shows just how excited she was...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSrdtPjBddA3sbULQIfIIt5g2mxCTKgFmhWKcSQY1ltqSkCb0ZFCSIvo0h7h_oOWjubN-Jc6_RDI8GG2amIqKEhPL9yy-BPck9Xg87mqyNKCIjPRzQAqruQxQ5lVA2ltdIpja/s1600/2011_0828_Aug_26-310001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCSrdtPjBddA3sbULQIfIIt5g2mxCTKgFmhWKcSQY1ltqSkCb0ZFCSIvo0h7h_oOWjubN-Jc6_RDI8GG2amIqKEhPL9yy-BPck9Xg87mqyNKCIjPRzQAqruQxQ5lVA2ltdIpja/s400/2011_0828_Aug_26-310001.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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So far, she has adjusted very well with no issues. That is, she has slept well and not fell out, despite having no bed rail. And, just like Jack did, she will not get out of bed until we come in and "let" her out of it. Also, she has been <i>very</i> insistent that we not lay her in it. She has to climb in herself.<br />
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After all, she is a Big Girl.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-77729554367711444402011-08-26T19:56:00.076-04:002011-08-29T09:54:56.650-04:00First Day of Kindergarten<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-_urPUg3wjEjK3hLno2wR2CQrlIYmV3Ry_TX_l1k-J6Lj6XqU71LhyyVCL4rc-eVTM6C49jRtP7nT3-YzOYIa8Ufqra4CDUo7ap9ocNWUvVCGNNIqPIs6spyWJqnwxJbbngbw/s1600/2011_0825_Aug_25am0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-_urPUg3wjEjK3hLno2wR2CQrlIYmV3Ry_TX_l1k-J6Lj6XqU71LhyyVCL4rc-eVTM6C49jRtP7nT3-YzOYIa8Ufqra4CDUo7ap9ocNWUvVCGNNIqPIs6spyWJqnwxJbbngbw/s400/2011_0825_Aug_25am0001.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Hard to believe, but my baby boy started kindergarten yesterday. I know, he is a "big" boy now, but it seems just like last year that he was <a href="http://jeweber76.blogspot.com/2006/05/sleepy-baby.html">just our tiny baby</a><br />
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But a big boy he is and he is very ready for kindergarten. He has been counting down the days for almost a month, now. I am glad that he is so excited and hope that this continues. The school had an open house on Tuesday night for us to see his room and meet his teacher. When we finally met Mrs. A., Jack told her he was excited to start.<br />
"What about school are you most excited for?" she asked him.<br />
"To learn!" he yelled back.<br />
There was no prompting on our part. Actually, I was surprised by his response. (I would have guessed "making friends.") Mrs. A. loved it.<br />
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As soon as he woke up for his first day, he was bouncing off the walls. The first thing he had to do was retrieve all of his school buses from his "city" in an attempt to guess which one his bus would look like. He was rather disappointed when Kate shot down his theory that a "Hot Wheel School Bus with flames painted on the side" would pick him up.<br />
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We were all ready to take a picture in front of the house, which seems like the thing to do for the first day of school, but it was pouring down so right inside the front door had to suffice for the morning.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrXUuF4y-oz5rsN4M8ircehlNc3ANj6zEBIZ0SF4pOFoJ6b7y1VRrtBkc-XuFzgff6hGh5aD-CUhRXeZKnxvupKciw9ZPTwY83AZWOfTIV4v_8zEfXB2UNvTBQu_jn6K_laJv/s1600/2011_0825_Aug_25am0009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrrXUuF4y-oz5rsN4M8ircehlNc3ANj6zEBIZ0SF4pOFoJ6b7y1VRrtBkc-XuFzgff6hGh5aD-CUhRXeZKnxvupKciw9ZPTwY83AZWOfTIV4v_8zEfXB2UNvTBQu_jn6K_laJv/s400/2011_0825_Aug_25am0009.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
He was not pleased at all when we suggested a picture of both him and his sister. It was <i>his</i> special day, and not hers, after all. Amelie hammed it up extra just to annoy him, I'm fairly certain. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWjhqZ6QsKE58yKp26bc0N17T4E2nw0IAmzoMpZNycr-4xqoIiWIDw2rHzZnLHFWjGear25U8Tx-pEMhaLqSqfUvGIJ3UJq-h9rjaSxJCo118gVg8VHcZforuPEYqKRTXwhkOD/s1600/2011_0825_Aug_25am0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWjhqZ6QsKE58yKp26bc0N17T4E2nw0IAmzoMpZNycr-4xqoIiWIDw2rHzZnLHFWjGear25U8Tx-pEMhaLqSqfUvGIJ3UJq-h9rjaSxJCo118gVg8VHcZforuPEYqKRTXwhkOD/s400/2011_0825_Aug_25am0013.JPG" width="300" /> </a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But when it came time for Jack to get on the bus, she was not pleased at all. She pouted the entire way back to the house because he got to go and she did not.</div><br />
Luckily it stopped raining by the time we got to the end of the street for the bus stop.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnn09fBLJCiaK1ikeqaTwIK6tPUwrturtA5Iks8UFL2UPF-iyFJC8ZbLLcWLLdJSk9I2QGyiUn2bCXl7L0JpNb6XVAzZ9phAS3J1oTblWxppOCKkM5SRnDKOSZtDkl0CeZvVQW/s1600/2011_0825_Aug_25am0017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnn09fBLJCiaK1ikeqaTwIK6tPUwrturtA5Iks8UFL2UPF-iyFJC8ZbLLcWLLdJSk9I2QGyiUn2bCXl7L0JpNb6XVAzZ9phAS3J1oTblWxppOCKkM5SRnDKOSZtDkl0CeZvVQW/s400/2011_0825_Aug_25am0017.JPG" width="305" /></a></div><br />
The buses (three or four for our subdivision) pick up at the end of the cul-de-sacs. Have I mentioned there are a lot of kids on our street?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3zxjioVBvB600BEnIizS7F9MNv2zAMtlTQlxrt3CXGiXqNK30R4luS37gRyJyphAZEHoI_1XYuQmG3sI5Vm2aljgewuGE0ZGSsDRsdjjt5b1DhyphenhypheniKOUM4eFdV9JkoPjRRhH0z/s1600/2011_0825_Aug_25am0018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3zxjioVBvB600BEnIizS7F9MNv2zAMtlTQlxrt3CXGiXqNK30R4luS37gRyJyphAZEHoI_1XYuQmG3sI5Vm2aljgewuGE0ZGSsDRsdjjt5b1DhyphenhypheniKOUM4eFdV9JkoPjRRhH0z/s400/2011_0825_Aug_25am0018.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Fifteen that ride the K-6 bus as we found out. That does not count the two that go to a private school, the six or so that not five yet, and who knows how many Jr. High and above. And that's just for fifteen houses.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rmm4mkb7pnaa_g_vm32dvdO_jzHrxtNx81yMvK9_zo_omnZpRdtZLm-UFDTr0sD8HPSU192OxCh28A8o_RVorWL7xs9DBFERL9XohEhtUaYg8twlwncWXC20LE_I6ueEce8y/s1600/2011_0825_Aug_25am0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4rmm4mkb7pnaa_g_vm32dvdO_jzHrxtNx81yMvK9_zo_omnZpRdtZLm-UFDTr0sD8HPSU192OxCh28A8o_RVorWL7xs9DBFERL9XohEhtUaYg8twlwncWXC20LE_I6ueEce8y/s400/2011_0825_Aug_25am0025.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Jack was last to get on the bus as he had to run back and give Kate a hug at the last minute. He looks so little!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4jbo_pcaguypL8AlcPubg2ZGwTzgKzLBwby9G6atyeUgX9-0Wc0AB1z5svCSoj37Y6Ctfdth4anpavmWfFxcrE-3F7pXWkpdtaiE2wAM1r4eTr0PrqkeLuTkiOBVmWUF1JomU/s1600/2011_0825_Aug_25am0035.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4jbo_pcaguypL8AlcPubg2ZGwTzgKzLBwby9G6atyeUgX9-0Wc0AB1z5svCSoj37Y6Ctfdth4anpavmWfFxcrE-3F7pXWkpdtaiE2wAM1r4eTr0PrqkeLuTkiOBVmWUF1JomU/s400/2011_0825_Aug_25am0035.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And how did it go? He was all smiles getting off the bus.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUc-BOm0XpK_vOcMpBe1Ebfm4S3O8ubgm2Jx8KNU7cxMFIV1M-DsetwW3DQ95TfFN1Zyyx_0qcTqpzhNu-fnrApYKRAB83OSg-rbstwRCOCLOof6yWblGyDkxm-RO9c0N09J1l/s1600/2011_0825_Aug_25pm0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUc-BOm0XpK_vOcMpBe1Ebfm4S3O8ubgm2Jx8KNU7cxMFIV1M-DsetwW3DQ95TfFN1Zyyx_0qcTqpzhNu-fnrApYKRAB83OSg-rbstwRCOCLOof6yWblGyDkxm-RO9c0N09J1l/s400/2011_0825_Aug_25pm0003.JPG" width="301" /></a></div><br />
He felt compelled to hold up his name tag so that we knew for sure that it was him.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPmavXDr3Ak2LBv1StIswMpU0NVepqn5OFDzYcX9kDgdhJnJDQuwp49_Emgq78e6NWtZw0SZKLVntFqdReSwMqk793khCacow5fGRu3VmJVp0XmmK0IJuHNghJocpAE2XxzEEH/s1600/2011_0825_Aug_25pm0004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPmavXDr3Ak2LBv1StIswMpU0NVepqn5OFDzYcX9kDgdhJnJDQuwp49_Emgq78e6NWtZw0SZKLVntFqdReSwMqk793khCacow5fGRu3VmJVp0XmmK0IJuHNghJocpAE2XxzEEH/s400/2011_0825_Aug_25pm0004.JPG" width="325" /></a></div><br />
Kate: Hey, big kindergarten boy, what did you do at school today?<br />
Jack: Nothing. <br />
(And so it begins.)<br />
Jack: Mommy, the bus went so fast! And I did not get to look out the window!<br />
Kate: Oh, did you have to set by the aisle?<br />
Jack: No, I was just too busy talking to all my friends.<br />
Me: Noooo! You talking a lot? Impossible!<br />
Jack: Really! Hey, one of my new friends wants me to come to his house and play.<br />
Kate: Alright, what was his name?<br />
Jack: I don't know!<br />
Kate: Well then, how about you learn his name first and then we will talk.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZpye1Tu-XGOzmlhm1urDcOMJEGPXHRRTd3gl91JMJ08bunLdjmGYFyy3qchTsC0k-DrWqI2iaevALP-O8lUDgmvGSt1b8GDTv_aoejXxu4ll8O3gppgfB1h3QVf12ECq1mXr/s1600/2011_0825_Aug_25pm0007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZpye1Tu-XGOzmlhm1urDcOMJEGPXHRRTd3gl91JMJ08bunLdjmGYFyy3qchTsC0k-DrWqI2iaevALP-O8lUDgmvGSt1b8GDTv_aoejXxu4ll8O3gppgfB1h3QVf12ECq1mXr/s400/2011_0825_Aug_25pm0007.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-12179171375113501852011-08-13T10:21:00.001-04:002011-08-13T10:53:29.441-04:00A Day at the Beach<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Last weekend we made a somewhat last minute trip to go visit our good friends the Rousts, whom we hadn't seen in way too long. (With very humble apologies to all of Chicagoland friends we did not have a chance to see.) Aside from his cousins, Elle is probably Jack's "best friend," so he has been clamoring for quite awhile to play with her. And they indeed had a great time together. (As did we. And Amelie.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We ended up spending a good portion of Saturday <strike>exhausting the kids</strike> playing at a beach on Lake Michigan. We had not made a very good effort of taking the kids to a beach previously, as Jack's introduction <a href="http://jeweber76.blogspot.com/2007/08/beach-boy.html">to one when he was much smaller was quite disastrou</a>s and he tends to be a little skittish around water. Avoiding them, though, was apparently a huge mistake as they had a blast. Amelie (almost literally) dove right in, and Jack has requested several times over the past week that our next vacation be on a beach.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">He had a great time digging sand castles, but he spent a good portion of the time rock hunting and came home with quite a collection.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPHndf6srsQ_l8w98OSZHPdUFDbuB1M282mC0FsUibnQqAITlchI_UiLp3dE7iK_Ke7bqG4HBFQbjgbYtb8f-UpZuTL-R7XwfGnY4F7k_sKNBkwOvFD3k5F3II3Hj-oMkieiRf/s1600/2011_0806_Aug_3-60018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPHndf6srsQ_l8w98OSZHPdUFDbuB1M282mC0FsUibnQqAITlchI_UiLp3dE7iK_Ke7bqG4HBFQbjgbYtb8f-UpZuTL-R7XwfGnY4F7k_sKNBkwOvFD3k5F3II3Hj-oMkieiRf/s400/2011_0806_Aug_3-60018.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Protective and loving big brother.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_rEcaYxC4izjMFSKwKfnPxf4EMKaIaXRgR_nTL2AMcWwke0Pd9IpixGa5FiRLfbv-4I31upjopNqusS_zgw53XLJdnKiHYATmg08lFkJNQ56LZryULxtWmAWRO7kRPKry4mQH/s1600/2011_0806_Aug_3-60022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_rEcaYxC4izjMFSKwKfnPxf4EMKaIaXRgR_nTL2AMcWwke0Pd9IpixGa5FiRLfbv-4I31upjopNqusS_zgw53XLJdnKiHYATmg08lFkJNQ56LZryULxtWmAWRO7kRPKry4mQH/s400/2011_0806_Aug_3-60022.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
After Colin took this picture, he remarked that it looked a bit like a fake backdrop...<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMntaT8oyiEw47LA5BA11WL3Y9jnztjOeolzNDf1qAQIpN5yKItwVf3vOIl7EsfJCheIE56kMzn6jRqvZ4PsXxw-5vOuToBtUBrXtKXrlgPRjLO5sZfwEmCI1lDWLAxwJbFOhT/s1600/2011_0806_Aug_3-60025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMntaT8oyiEw47LA5BA11WL3Y9jnztjOeolzNDf1qAQIpN5yKItwVf3vOIl7EsfJCheIE56kMzn6jRqvZ4PsXxw-5vOuToBtUBrXtKXrlgPRjLO5sZfwEmCI1lDWLAxwJbFOhT/s400/2011_0806_Aug_3-60025.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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And check out this picture I snagged of these two beautiful ladies!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsipCjLh7Um47qRCcoiyMXNuv3n_8V-D427zxLeZYgcgHCxA68kxxMeLkoyzJZQMTbxumuOJnq0BFV_mjrR2Hi3WTfWVIRHPMkwJrLRTLsS9GiUckLBuSSRa-cG-GRi24FBZM/s1600/2011_0806_Aug_3-60032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsipCjLh7Um47qRCcoiyMXNuv3n_8V-D427zxLeZYgcgHCxA68kxxMeLkoyzJZQMTbxumuOJnq0BFV_mjrR2Hi3WTfWVIRHPMkwJrLRTLsS9GiUckLBuSSRa-cG-GRi24FBZM/s400/2011_0806_Aug_3-60032.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Jack thought it was neat to be able to write his name in the sand.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJm4jr1ukLKMAwph_zqlvL8eh9loPdRsIAqR25suFcGw3aM1EYI7goFmjnwCK6gmvvZnY6qShM9GmwIrSo8xNeSvdpLlKp-dBM-7gLF9wfKT0800rZGuH2YfWCulpbC2FfrZt1/s1600/2011_0806_Aug_3-60053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJm4jr1ukLKMAwph_zqlvL8eh9loPdRsIAqR25suFcGw3aM1EYI7goFmjnwCK6gmvvZnY6qShM9GmwIrSo8xNeSvdpLlKp-dBM-7gLF9wfKT0800rZGuH2YfWCulpbC2FfrZt1/s400/2011_0806_Aug_3-60053.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
So did Amelie. At least she said this is her name she drew.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfsV20087bg7-PGXswZVZ_HMdWzw5SKMQPFEQZyeRe_nOSDMJD3mVvg_NMINyU9NLe-Tf1yNqXMNgvaiMDRr9HGzVnGpQS5rk2x1iF5jvo-oib3UtFgDYxjOhrVLwE2so0_Hp/s1600/2011_0806_Aug_3-60062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdfsV20087bg7-PGXswZVZ_HMdWzw5SKMQPFEQZyeRe_nOSDMJD3mVvg_NMINyU9NLe-Tf1yNqXMNgvaiMDRr9HGzVnGpQS5rk2x1iF5jvo-oib3UtFgDYxjOhrVLwE2so0_Hp/s400/2011_0806_Aug_3-60062.JPG" width="285" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitI6zYobYVldLiWuYQ8eAKzwEF7BnxCHslfF4fUaUDC2egQBbiJAIHtfDf3hxmrjiEdOld7uAjFqoBjPDl88fIgqzcpavv08Iq42rYEauKzWfD1Np8mJH1kjGY8B-atTV4PgZ0/s1600/2011_0806_Aug_3-60072.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitI6zYobYVldLiWuYQ8eAKzwEF7BnxCHslfF4fUaUDC2egQBbiJAIHtfDf3hxmrjiEdOld7uAjFqoBjPDl88fIgqzcpavv08Iq42rYEauKzWfD1Np8mJH1kjGY8B-atTV4PgZ0/s400/2011_0806_Aug_3-60072.JPG" width="288" /></a></div><br />
Occasionally, I get a picture when I very much see Kate's or my features in the kids. (Usually more so Kate's)<br />
But as Kate said, this is very much my expression Jack is giving the camera. I'll admit it was a bit like looking in the mirror...<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDCa7aFemhV4R4VSKK-Og1I8P2_ZubTGr_zMVaDfGq0N5WFhox1EoU6My9HW-wANuF1JE7mmN6qQgwZmmW6rqIuyTtnfO1P7-M2Z_-aR0b3D_F14L0_P-46d6BzC6lMklNexNL/s1600/2011_0806_Aug_3-60081.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDCa7aFemhV4R4VSKK-Og1I8P2_ZubTGr_zMVaDfGq0N5WFhox1EoU6My9HW-wANuF1JE7mmN6qQgwZmmW6rqIuyTtnfO1P7-M2Z_-aR0b3D_F14L0_P-46d6BzC6lMklNexNL/s400/2011_0806_Aug_3-60081.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Kate is always bugging me to "make some pretty pictures black and white to hang on the wall." So I thought I would share.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-31871227771237966412011-08-12T08:47:00.000-04:002011-08-12T08:47:48.973-04:00Princess in a Pickup<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugE45xysvQk9j16644fCWq3p2ecS7m7px2iERgIPFbi3EDLpofT7QLi4UarW72-TMzxUvNzyUubY4oM0MW3P2jzwMVc1DeoOrsAVuEr8i5adC-IVzesSuz_LbchNsHP2BvncE/s1600/2011_0812_Aug_8-120002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugE45xysvQk9j16644fCWq3p2ecS7m7px2iERgIPFbi3EDLpofT7QLi4UarW72-TMzxUvNzyUubY4oM0MW3P2jzwMVc1DeoOrsAVuEr8i5adC-IVzesSuz_LbchNsHP2BvncE/s400/2011_0812_Aug_8-120002.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Amelie and Jack were playing the other day, and this was Amelie's contribution. This picture pretty much sums up what type of little girl she is.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-90150309448931277752011-07-04T22:23:00.000-04:002011-07-06T13:25:55.582-04:00A Bit Tired<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0_dbZcyPHaR2MtMNvIU-FKrvoRnKeXxs5pkk3WzgKKUCD_brwqKwlDnLQNiE-CXzb-F6jEt2UlXRmMxxp_UVgWdbON3nS3biMbbCTJRIY3hnG8pzGDQougtPAfo_XtlCECiPR/s1600/2011_0704_Jun_27-July_40019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0_dbZcyPHaR2MtMNvIU-FKrvoRnKeXxs5pkk3WzgKKUCD_brwqKwlDnLQNiE-CXzb-F6jEt2UlXRmMxxp_UVgWdbON3nS3biMbbCTJRIY3hnG8pzGDQougtPAfo_XtlCECiPR/s400/2011_0704_Jun_27-July_40019.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I'm a bit overwhelmed with house things to do a proper blog right now...but I thought this picture from the day before we moved kind of sums up how we all feel right now.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-20510998061786560212011-07-02T13:19:00.002-04:002011-07-06T13:26:38.954-04:00Sweaty, But Happy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tHwvDffNcgd4aAkHnVvwk-y47tY01dPLvAZeFLkHzcpK3wzl1icQYr8tqF9E4f9Cy4i08eqgtnbqNF7lhaMjzvns0oimEW6sWdLyGy7p6WSds3l_X1NAaMBMWTFee5EjQu3p/s1600/2011_0704_Jun_27-July_40012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1tHwvDffNcgd4aAkHnVvwk-y47tY01dPLvAZeFLkHzcpK3wzl1icQYr8tqF9E4f9Cy4i08eqgtnbqNF7lhaMjzvns0oimEW6sWdLyGy7p6WSds3l_X1NAaMBMWTFee5EjQu3p/s400/2011_0704_Jun_27-July_40012.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZTMUvAnhyBXVO9MxhbOHW7gxH8f-drP-ToVLJzWw_K7dRfIaELjllRzS5M6rIQ26lTAFmbh9fMxadpAYQWx4dOIwjBMfzNaRtk1a_FLb8FN2v79Sc8y2s5RqdMPHsxZCI2qL/s1600/2011_0704_Jun_27-July_40014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaZTMUvAnhyBXVO9MxhbOHW7gxH8f-drP-ToVLJzWw_K7dRfIaELjllRzS5M6rIQ26lTAFmbh9fMxadpAYQWx4dOIwjBMfzNaRtk1a_FLb8FN2v79Sc8y2s5RqdMPHsxZCI2qL/s400/2011_0704_Jun_27-July_40014.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_TTsFIRf8fzoCGlEPxAIdmCKMWBfpNxkzoBxNBnnSRPzhXgowZvaYNxeySZeCsfozgn8M2ObgPmdTWOM17r1Yrp-qc-6Z2ddvxkKljJTC-ov3JCC1NYeO_yI1y8EYpHgluAX/s1600/2011_0704_Jun_27-July_40016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp_TTsFIRf8fzoCGlEPxAIdmCKMWBfpNxkzoBxNBnnSRPzhXgowZvaYNxeySZeCsfozgn8M2ObgPmdTWOM17r1Yrp-qc-6Z2ddvxkKljJTC-ov3JCC1NYeO_yI1y8EYpHgluAX/s400/2011_0704_Jun_27-July_40016.JPG" width="295" /></a></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-73382223818782375142011-06-27T22:52:00.000-04:002011-06-27T22:52:13.242-04:00And the Keys Are in Our Grubby Little Paws<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcqYeJnz6Z4IWpjxx-yQ3NmtpdXBX8mWKMPWCVfhBFvYzQcGzrSiRobJjt3PK4vJYfoC0JwXWByw50aSTN4wl9tErfto9L3PjXAKn8TPDxAMRqpNrX2mEwPMrBW5azuq5GCB9G/s1600/2011_0627_Jun_17-270002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcqYeJnz6Z4IWpjxx-yQ3NmtpdXBX8mWKMPWCVfhBFvYzQcGzrSiRobJjt3PK4vJYfoC0JwXWByw50aSTN4wl9tErfto9L3PjXAKn8TPDxAMRqpNrX2mEwPMrBW5azuq5GCB9G/s400/2011_0627_Jun_17-270002.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
We closed on our house tonight at 6 pm. Although it was late and we were all exhausted (hence the brevity of writing in this post), we were all too excited to not go over to our new house for a little bit. Jack and Amelie are pretty proud of their "big Ohio house."<br />
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And since we had not eaten, we had a picnic in our new house. Nothing like a little Steak 'n Shake for a first meal.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJjoAsOO-90NM1WDYry5-v_q0dFJDZQYki1xfGr0ZDK5MvCsIQrR0ztxqaqDLViw3eEhV-OHFxX2fSaWybOOCtDDHDA7iCgN9eP8ATjw7VkIQ2pOigTxAMgTDvVJRQQEAJAR2f/s1600/2011_0627_Jun_17-270006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJjoAsOO-90NM1WDYry5-v_q0dFJDZQYki1xfGr0ZDK5MvCsIQrR0ztxqaqDLViw3eEhV-OHFxX2fSaWybOOCtDDHDA7iCgN9eP8ATjw7VkIQ2pOigTxAMgTDvVJRQQEAJAR2f/s400/2011_0627_Jun_17-270006.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Jack was ready to play outside.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjloN8bqtWBUt9IUsQA-bLE8-fLuRg_lpJaASsjxBNtwzW3zm2pY2Jb1VXj8kWM9GLATwuArsqNNLTOyd9LE8tzrO-sDQFlN5rxCbwfu6WPLF580dENXCMb6bZgvl2pyg1gFiSv/s1600/2011_0627_Jun_17-270010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjloN8bqtWBUt9IUsQA-bLE8-fLuRg_lpJaASsjxBNtwzW3zm2pY2Jb1VXj8kWM9GLATwuArsqNNLTOyd9LE8tzrO-sDQFlN5rxCbwfu6WPLF580dENXCMb6bZgvl2pyg1gFiSv/s400/2011_0627_Jun_17-270010.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
But he was more ready to play with his toys in his new house.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu9TyaQn-Y9i4rGjHmjK1jBt8NYwKeN6v-lkOyHCdGAroH3E2WGj3y2ZhMPKZ4pnsdUgsgL4pdBYZS3dDd79Jhv1ksIqLk2iW4hy3Zr-7BHmjhuPUwqu0GCxeX946lOIw-mPcf/s1600/2011_0627_Jun_17-270017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu9TyaQn-Y9i4rGjHmjK1jBt8NYwKeN6v-lkOyHCdGAroH3E2WGj3y2ZhMPKZ4pnsdUgsgL4pdBYZS3dDd79Jhv1ksIqLk2iW4hy3Zr-7BHmjhuPUwqu0GCxeX946lOIw-mPcf/s400/2011_0627_Jun_17-270017.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
He was very insistent that on our first visit it to our new house, we take a box of toys. He even made me write on it, "This box goes first."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJiN6RFuPBpyRnh9CPb04F-7aPCwfp0QwwW0NMFvZpZkDJN68Ocu8FiUZNAPGHo6ty7ml1vmlgSPW5mWW8JMJIg8kewOeH_lN2ckMEoKF7d2Fq83YVZ4yulnYpDnA7Up_XtFz/s1600/2011_0627_Jun_17-270021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJiN6RFuPBpyRnh9CPb04F-7aPCwfp0QwwW0NMFvZpZkDJN68Ocu8FiUZNAPGHo6ty7ml1vmlgSPW5mWW8JMJIg8kewOeH_lN2ckMEoKF7d2Fq83YVZ4yulnYpDnA7Up_XtFz/s400/2011_0627_Jun_17-270021.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br />
We were all a bit sad to go back to the condo, but we are not moving everything over until this weekend. I had to promise Jack that we would go "visit" the house everyday until then.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-39447018472282519012011-06-20T10:06:00.000-04:002011-06-20T10:06:13.391-04:00The Weber Family Variety Show<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After lunch on Saturday, Jack told us that he had a surprise for us--Amelie and him were going to put on a show. I thought I would share the beginning of it...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dypR9-mVwPaQS8DvoDljFwLSJOYlCZw2e0MyRPZjo_41lNZwI0VVwqjRcrUL240tZ97q5m8CsOSt50' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03889134045286158385noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-25099592.post-34646423919176914312011-06-12T23:06:00.001-04:002011-06-12T23:10:33.760-04:00Jack the Photographer - Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I decided the previous post did not have enough pictures, so here are some more.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I should have also added in the previous post that he takes a lot of pictures of his sister, too.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFu6mh_xaTbfZkTfqEgChgh957BV0plQEHY-0cdWNdLLgHOEjQ9Cn00B0VLl6OLHB_admd9_HMA96VqGAFz1EF6WS2PdmLbaVuqai6GvxZAj_c1gqDUPbkTqLqc9qAvHKP8ty/s1600/51468_313600_Jack_Dec-Jun11b0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFu6mh_xaTbfZkTfqEgChgh957BV0plQEHY-0cdWNdLLgHOEjQ9Cn00B0VLl6OLHB_admd9_HMA96VqGAFz1EF6WS2PdmLbaVuqai6GvxZAj_c1gqDUPbkTqLqc9qAvHKP8ty/s400/51468_313600_Jack_Dec-Jun11b0001.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2omdCiawpk0PX7P12r-D-SeDalxgBAWSBz5qSuFj1PCi3YmEtnmyGx82ogDT6dqzgvHeQ0f_kjQXmn-Li8Hrc2gfOn5a3Y2ZNYS_C67gI3jJ-L-Bj9lfi6FEYzpzT1XRnMZ0/s1600/51468_313600_Jack_Dec-Jun11b0011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2omdCiawpk0PX7P12r-D-SeDalxgBAWSBz5qSuFj1PCi3YmEtnmyGx82ogDT6dqzgvHeQ0f_kjQXmn-Li8Hrc2gfOn5a3Y2ZNYS_C67gI3jJ-L-Bj9lfi6FEYzpzT1XRnMZ0/s400/51468_313600_Jack_Dec-Jun11b0011.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I was rather surprised he managed to take only one picture of Elle...<br />
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I hereby declare that Jack has taken a better picture of me than anyone has in years.<br />
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