There are 7 kids in my living room right now, watching Zootopia. And JD’s asleep upstairs, so only 3 of those kids are mine. (But man, did JD NEED a nap. He was crying over every little thing. Note to adults: when you’re crying over everything, and the sky is falling, go take a nap!)
They are watching Zootopia. It sounds hilarious.
It’s officially summer. Listen to the snack I gave them: a plate full of corn on the cob, buttered and salted. Those are some happy kids going to town on corn and watching Zootopia.
I’m feeling successful. We still haven’t decided where to live next, but hey! I washed my hair this morning. Sounds like success to me.
Daniel has developed a photography interest lately. He borrowed our camera and took some pictures…
Life according to a 5-year-old
Someone asked me, after my last post, “Don’t you have to check on JD, not just Daniel?”
The answer is no. Rarely. JD is literally always 1 inch away from me. It seems like always. Occasionally, he does play in the sandbox.
Even Alan says, “I’ll tell you, but just, please promise me you won’t do the eyebrows.”
Daniel is so excited about this move and about going to kindergarten. Every once in a while, though, he confesses, “I just don’t want my fwiends to move away and nevwer see my fwiends.”
Auck! It makes me so sad for him. I’ve grown hard to all the moving and leaving. In fact, I get so caught up in the details of the move that I totally forget to say good-bye to people. I forget to be sensitive to other people’s feelings too. I don’t mean to be cold or anything. I simply go through the motions of the move, never stopping to think about when will be the last time I see our friends.
But the boys are young. They feel these things. They don’t have Facebook to use to keep in touch either. It’s important to remember and be sensitive.
Thankfully, Daniel is super-duper excited about kindergarten and the prospect of having a great, big backyard at our new house. Sometimes he sees me looking at houses online, and he always asks two questions:
No, he doesn’t actually have a dog, but they all have great plans to get one at their new house. They’ve even named him. Steve.
I have made it known, repeatedly, that this dog, IF we get one, will not be mine. I don’t like dogs (I know. I’m a horrible person), but mostly I don’t plan on cleaning up its poop. I’ve been changing diapers for 10 years. A line must be drawn somewhere.
I know what you’re all thinking. You think we will get a dog, and I will end up taking care of it. I desperately hope you’re wrong.
Only 13 more days until John David and I fly South!!! Eeeeeeeee!!!!! So excited!!
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I just love how reading your blog is just like talking to you. I can just hear you telling it all. Too funny about the dog. And it has a name - HAAA!!! I've never noticed your eyebrows before, but I'm totally going to be watching for this now. You and your mom have the exact same pose in pictures 2 & 3. Y'all bend down and smile the same way :) And yes, after 10 years of diapers, you can draw the line!
Thank you! :) And I noticed that about me and Mom too. Funny. And oh, they eyebrows. They're right. I do it a lot. I can't not do it.
Sorry, April. New tablet listed me as anonymous bit this is Nonna.
I like Daniel's viewpoint! I have a couple of those pictures that my kiddos have snapped where it was hard to tell if I was drunk or just blinking. Yours looks pretty good! Aw, those sweet little hearts like that. Not wanting to leaves his fwiends. Too cute!
Congrats to Cubby Daniel on a good year. Steve, huh? Have they decided what kind of dog? Hopefully the boys can train the dog to only poop in the back corner of that big yard. Hope so anyway.
Thirteen days and you are a true Southerner again. ..welcome South. Pray it is an uneventful flight for you and JD. I know Alan and the boys will really miss you on packing days and their long cross country trip. It will be the big boys' first real experience of moving. They have always been with grandparents before, haven't they? Just enjoy your last few days of California. It has been a beautiful assignment.