The Middle One Is Eight

Back in early spring, we all attended a silent auction where the Zig bid on a model airplane, and won. I'm not sure why he chose that particular thing to bid on, but he's always looking for things to love. Pets, bugs, stuffed animals, telephone poles, small planes. Soon after that, he read everything he could get his hands on concerning the P-51 Mustang used in WWII and quickly decided he wanted his birthday cake with that theme.

We joked for a while about Pa making a big ol' airplane out of cake, but when it was all said and done, the cake was decorated with fondant and frosting in the theme of the P-51 Mustang. Sounds simpler, but Pa and I likely put hours into that cake. Heh heh, our poor aching backs.

Regardless. My boy is eight, which is good, because I've been saying he is eight for a few months now. It's just easier. I like it when my kids' ages are all two years apart because my memory, MY POOR AGING MEMORY cannot handle so many numbers at one time!

We had a small party at home with the five of us. Pa had taken the day off of work and Zig got to spend the bulk of the day playing with his presents, which is his idea of perfection. Low stress, low on the human interaction. We did make a little outing to Sweet Tomatoes for dinner, because no matter how introverted the majority of us might be, we still can't resist The Call Of The All-You-Can-Eat Buffet.

Ziggy's presents were Legos with a side of Legos, with some plane-themed gifts in there too. Each kid got a small non-tangling parachute man--great fun for all of us in the front yard. Took Pa about five minutes before he was rigging up a contraption to make the guys soar up even higher. And I'm not saying I nearly threw my arm out of joint trying to make mine fly highest--but I might have.

Happy eighth birthday, Zig!

The Tooth, It Fell Out

If there's one thing our Zig does well, it's to take his time with things. We know that at the first sign of a loose tooth, we're looking at MONTHS before the thing is finally out. He'll wiggle the tooth, but in reality, he prefers to wait for the permanent tooth to completely shove the baby one out of his mouth. Lately his front tooth has been hanging by a thread for what felt like weeks, and then one morning, he woke up and it had dropped right onto his pillow. No effort required. I assume the tooth had finally called "uncle."

Four baby teeth out; sixteen to go:

 

The Tooth Fairy always leaves a note (in my handwriting) and a pack of fun gum for each tooth. I've had this round's gum bought and set aside for weeks now. However, the Tooth Fairy got so busy and distracted with many things that it slipped her mind to do her duties. Of course, she didn't know this until she was greeted by a rather outspoken Zig, whose first words the next morning were, "THE TOOTH FAIRY DIDN'T COME! I AM VERY! DIS! APPOINTED!!!"

And of course I felt awful. Just awful. There were tears coming out of both of us. Of any child to let down, this one's the worst. I kid you not, I'll be hearing about The Time The Tooth Fairy Failed til the end of my life.  Maybe longer.

Fortunately, I came up with a plan (with help from Campers, who knew the situation was dire, simply dire--my firstborn was even offering me money, candy, you name it) to turn lemons into lemonade. I sat down and wrote five little clues and made the trek to the "loot" a scavenger hunt. Plus I might have put some extra candy in with the gum. And paper hearts. Lots of paper hearts. But I didn't try to buy my boy's forgiveness. I didn't. Happily, that seemed to soothe the pain and Campers has decided he wants the Tooth Fairy to fail when it's his turn to lose a tooth. See what fun we're having?!

Annual Calendar: Zig

There's one picture that sticks out to me in this set. It's the big one in the top left corner, where Zig has his "angry face" on.

That Zig is the sweetest, sweetest boy I've had occasion to know--but when he gets mad, HE. GETS. MAD. Fortunately, his "mad" is looking less like a punching machine these days and more like an awesomely knotted-up face. Just-a like so.

What's great is that he'll charge up to his sister and--without touching her--get right in her face and make the "angry eyes" at her, all while being this stiff little creature who is just madder than a hornet.

Highly entertaining.

The rest of the pictures show Zig for who he is--a squashy, tenderhearted, easygoing boy.

The girl pic is up tomorrow.

The Zig: Age Five

Age five is perfection personified. One part baby, four parts boy.

Soft And Squishy

Is that the Zig hugging some playground equipment?

Yes. Yes it is.

Some things never change.

And we wouldn't want them to.

Easter Sibs

Sweeter than Easter candy.

Love Of My Mommy Life: Part 2

My first child is wound up just as tight as his Ma.

We make an interesting pair.

But when my second son came around, I took him in for a six-week checkup and said to my doctor, "I think there's something wrong. My baby hardly cries."

I distinctly remember the nurse hooting a bit, and then going on to tell me about how her two sons were as different as night from day.

That's my Zig. As relaxed as his brother is tight.

Pa and I use a couple of code words for Zig. The first is "molasses," as that perfectly describes the speed at which Ziggy does everything. This makes him an excellent artist, but a "slowpoke" (thank you, Campers) at getting into the van.

The second code word is "medicine," because Zig's very presence is like taking an anti-anxiety tablet and anti-depressant all rolled into one. He is a "soul at rest," and I'm amazed at how he's brought such a balm to our family--not just recently--but since the day he's been born.

What a privilege it is to raise these kids, and to watch them grow into the people they're turning out to be.

Can He Bake A Colored Cake?

Campers has reached the age where he wants to help out in the kitchen.

I told him that when *I* learned to cook, 85 years ago, that *I* started with desserts for two reasons.

1. They tasted good
2. They tasted good

I was a kid. What did you expect?

So Campers begged, oh did he beg and beg for me to gotothestorerightnow and pick up a cake mix and frosting.

And, being the sugar-loving, obedient mother that I am, I complied.

I didn't get any pictures of the actual mixing, baking, and decorating because, oh how shall I say it?

THERE WAS A LOT OF "DISCUSSION" GOING ON.

But look at the end result:

Didn't both boys do a great job?

Cake Making 101. Let me know if I passed.

Oh. It's The Mother-In-Law Thing Again.

Pa said to me tonight at dinner, "You'll be the worst mother-in-law in all of history."

As if.

As if he has met every mother-in-law there is.

Pffffttt.

Kid Dictionary: Four

The benefit of having three kids is that I can look at the two-year-old Spazmanian Devil and say to myself, "Yes, but one day she'll be FOUR."

Oh, people. FOUR totally rocks.

There's the talking squish:

And the sitting still squish:

And the smiling squish:

EAT HIM WITH A SPOON.

I'm Already Thinking About My Daughters-In-Law

All you parents with girls in the seven-and-under range?

Start submitting your prearranged marital applications for my boys. I already showed you the Project Manager. (Hello! Big earning potential! Financial security for us all!)

(!!!)

(Priorities, people!)

But today, I bring you my Zig:

So, go ahead. Send in those applications. That way, I can burn them look through them and then beat your girls off with a stick (figuratively!) when that time comes around.

Because?

THEY ARE ALL MINE.

YOU CANNOT HAVE THEM.

That Campers, though. He'll prevail. He'll have no trouble securing a wife. He'll make a list, check it twice, and call it done.

But Zig?

He'll have no less than eighty-seven girls swarming around him, but he'll never know. He's your terribly cute, amazingly sensitive, adorably clueless-to-the-admiring-fans-around-him type of guy.

Reminds me of someone ELSE I know.

Oh, but some Ma-type girl will make out her list, check out the Zig, and call it done.

Pesky, pesky girl.

Sweet, sweet, Zig.

A match made in heaven.

A Faux Hawk In The Making

More pics from this summer.

Love that Zig.

So squeezable, so goofy.

So willing to just be himself while the whole world laughs.

Pumpkin Triad

Pumpkin shirt, real pumpkins, and A New Pumpkin Reflector Necklace.

Ziggy bliss.

Because Wetness Is Just A Frame Of Mind

First thing Zig and Campers did at the beach was dig in the sand.

(Caveboys... Must... Get... Dirty!)

Then there's that pesky need to wash off.

Such hard work. What a bother.

And once Zig got soaked from the tip of his toes to the pit of his arms, it was time to head out.

Optimus Prime

My friend brought the boys a gift while she was here:

Yes, the Talking Optimus Prime Helmet.

Funnier on Grandpa:

And you know who likes it best?

The Suz.

She can barely keep her head upright with the voice-activated helmet on, but she loves to sing and say "hello, hello, hello, hello, hello," transforming her cute munchkin voice into Baby Optimus Prime.

Cheap thrills.

The Effect Of The Olympics

Campers:

Zig:

And Coach Pa:

I'm just grateful we made it through the 2008 Olympics with nary a trip to the ER. We've certainly brought new meaning to the phrase, "home gym."

And over the next four years? I'm lobbying for chess to be an Olympic sport.

Spidey Scooter

If you haven't discovered the joys of craigslist, I'm warning you. I may *hate* stuff, but cheap stuff in great condition that we'd actually use?

I'm all over that, just like Zig is all over his "new" Spidey Scooter:

In case you are a totally clueless nincompoop like me, scooters are ALL THE RAGE.

Or, they might not be, and I'm already behind the times.

But my six- and four-year-old set of boys see All Their Friends Riding A Scooter And They Will Simply Die If They Do Not Have One Too.

I quickly found a used scooter for the Zig, and am still scouring the ads for a used Razor for his brother.

And a little parenting advice for you?

DON'T EVER GIVE SOMETHING REALLY COOL TO ONE CHILD WITHOUT GIVING SOMETHING EQUALLY COOL TO THE OTHER.

Unless you want the folks in Zimbabwe to hear the sound of one child screaming.

I'm just sayin'.

Hammock Heaven

Our neighbor introduced the boys to his hammock.

I can't decide if Zig is having fun or is frantic.

He doesn't exactly wear his emotions on his sleeve.

Couple O' Pioneers

Who woulda thought my boys were on the Oregon Trail?

But the proof is in the picture.

They make a nice couple, dontcha think?

Strawberries The Easy Way

Took the boys to the local farmer's market to "pick" some strawberries.

They decided the market was the perfect place to practice their jumps.

Or as Campers put it, "Mom. We're just trying to ruin your picture."

They didn't seem to put up a fuss, though, when we got home with these:

Fresh strawberries and fresh raspberries.

Not too bad for a quick bus ride to the market and back.