Rain, rain, don't go away.

It's tough being a kid.  We've had such beautiful weather lately that Calvin has become accustomed to going outside to play after naptime every day.  In fact, forget accustomed, he's down right expectant.  When he went down for his nap this afternoon all he could talk about was "painting the driveway" when he got up (with water, of course).  How dare the weather have different plans!  So when he got up, and it was raining pretty steadily, we tried to talk him out of his usual outdoor tromp before dinner, and decided that he might as well see for himself why it wasn't such a good idea.  That went about as well as giving him the hot pepper he asked for the other night and expecting him to give it back (the crazy kid ate it and asked for more).  His initial reaction to the rain was some mix between disbelief and disappointment - painting the driveway in water was certainly not a worthwhile activity anymore - but if we expected him to come inside we were in for another hot pepper style disappointment of our own.  After a moment of despondency, and several minutes of refusing to give in to fate, Calvin discovered splashing (or splatting, as it may be, since improved drainage has cut down severely on puddle enjoyment), and this new activity kept him in giggles until the rain stopped 30 minutes later, at which time he promptly begged to come inside again - now without the rain all the fun was over.  Nature just can't win.

The first haircut

We figure this milestone needs no catchier a title than just that - his very first hair cut.  It probably wasn't altogether necessary - I've trimmed it up myself a few times over the past year or so - but we were getting tired of the patchy look, not to mention waking up to crazy hair guy every morning, so we planned for today to be the day.  We'd heard enough horror stories, so in preparation we spent the last week reading books, singing songs, and telling stories about big boys getting hair cuts, and the last few days talking about the specifics (the big chair, the mirror, the cape, and the scissors), so that in the end, rather than shock, the kid probably suffered from day-after-Chrstmas magnitude let down.  But for all that, the actual haircut went by without incident.  Calvin was classic Calvin - contemplative, curious, watchful - and neither cried, nor cracked a smile, until one of the stylists handed him a yogurt covered pretzel.  He got a certificate with a pouch of hair to take home, too, and as we were leaving remembered to thank the nice lady, too.  Probably the best part about the whole experience was the whole experience.  In an effort to embrace our new small town existence we actually walked to town and patronized the local (and old fashioned) shop in downtown Dexter, complete with old-style barber chairs filled with chatty older men (all of whom were greatly entertained, but whether by Calvin or by his camera happy mother it's hard to say), then finished our errands by walking to the bakery, the card shop, the library, and lastly the grocery store, with Calvin happily chatting away about his new haircut while reclining in his buggy, er, stroller.

The rest of the multitude of pictures can be found in the May 2008 album, of course. 

Sense and Sensitivity

Kids have an almost inhuman way of tugging at the proverbial heartstrings.  Even the hardest of souls can be softened by a baby's coos, or a toddler's kind word.  I'd like to believe that we run a tight ship around here, but every once in a while we, too, just go all to mush.  Today was was my once in a while.  Calvin and I went to the library today to enjoy a presentation given by "the local farm lady," who brought a chicken and a duck for the kids to ogle.  Calvin was absolutely enthralled by both the woman and her birds.  He spent the entire forty minutes sitting in one spot on the floor listening to her with rapt attention, and when her talk was over he waited patiently in line for his turn to get close to the two farm fowl.  Wally, the enormous white duck, really drew his attention, and when it came time for the feathered friends to go home, my sweet, sensitive son was absolutely beside himself.  I was not at all prepared for the torrent of tears or the soft, sorrowful whispering - "Wally, Wally, go home, Wally."  It wasn't at all a temper tantrum - he was being quiet and obedient - it was just pure and utter sorrow.  We sat outside and talked for a few minutes about how hard it is to say goodbye, and that it was okay to cry quietly (which he was doing), and about how Wally was probably quite happy to be going home where he could play outside, and would Calvin like to go play outside?  "Nooooooo, Waaaaallllllllyyyyyy." And that's when the heartstrings finally broke, my inner reserve went completely to mush, and I lost all touch with my common sense and we walked from the library to a downtown giftshop where Calvin, still tearfully, picked out a duck of his own to take home and care for.  Wally joined us for lunch, he joined us for quiet time, he joined Calvin for naptime, and even now both Wally and Calvin are safely snuggled, along with blanket and froggy, of course, in bed for the night.

Soynut butter. It's what's for lunch.

Doctors take all the fun out of life.  No peanut products until at least three years?  But isn't that what all kids crave after a long morning on the jungle gym - a peanut butter sandwich, carrot sticks, and milk?  This is worse than no swimming for one hour after eating on a hot summer day at the lake.  But have no fear!  There are always work-arounds.  Every time we've fired up the stove to sear a veggie burger, popped a leftover dinner in the microwave, or preheated the oven to make a quesadilla we've longed for the easy days, still a year away, of quickly slathering a piece of bread with that nutty, creamy concoction readily available in a (glass) jar, and now we have our answer.  Soynut butter.  No, it's not the same thing, but don't tell Calvin that - he has nothing to compare it to, and obviously he's in heaven with it.  Can't you tell by the soynut butter mustache?  It's his new favorite two word phrase, and it's what's for lunch.

Everything is fascinating...

...to a two year old.  Especially worms.  We have a wonderfully landscaped garden plot in front of our new house, but since the home was vacant for nearly a year it had fallen into some manner of disrepair.  With the beautiful weather about to come to an end we decided we needed to get a handle on the encroaching grasses and weeds before the coming rains gave them a power boost, so the three of us spent the evening in the garden:  Cortney weeded, Jon cleaned up after her, and Calvin pointed out as many bugs as he could find ("worm, more worms, more worms," "spider, more spiders, more spiders," "tato bug, more bugs, more tatoes").  He also talked a lot about how prickly the rose and fir bushes are ("ouch," "picky," "no no no don't touch picky ouch").  And in case you were wondering, no he's never quiet at home.  Never.  Unless he's in trouble.