All That Glitters

And the quest for an award continues!

Sunday was called Awards Sunday, because it was the last Sunday School until fall, and some children would be promoted to a new level.  Abby's Sunday School teacher wisely prepped the three and four-year-olds, saying, "Your name is going to be called for an award, and then you'll need to walk to the front of the church to accept it."

Abby ran to me after her class, eyes wide and shining:  "Mama, mama!  I - I - I - I'm gonna get an AWARD!"

"Great," I thought.  "We'll finally have fulfillment of this goal."

True to her teacher's word, the awards began with Abby's class, and she walked forward hesitantly, loopingly, until she was the last child to shake the teacher's hand.  She was given a Bible tied with a ribbon.  She took it doubtfully and looped back to her seat.  I hugged her, and church went on.

It wasn't until the closing hymn had ended that I noticed big tears falling from a crumpled face.  "Mama," she choked, "I didn't get an award."

Awards, you see, are still gold and shiny and glittery...and elusive to my little girl. 

All Girl

Last night I had to present yearbook awards at a fine arts night in our gym.  It was at 7:30, and I said Abby could come.  She disappeared into her room and matched her outfit to a T:  brown and pink striped dress, brown lace leggings, a brown necklace, brown socks, brown shoes, and a brown belt!  She came out and showed me how everything matched and she was, thus, ready for the meeting.  I put a pink flower in her hair and convinced her to take off the socks, and we were off. 

What she really wanted as we sat through the many awards was to be called for one.  It hurt a little bit in a part of me I didn't have before I became a mother.  She would lean over and whisper periodically, "I hope we get called for a shiny gold award."  Once the presenter called an Abby and her eyes grew wide with hope for a moment.

Later I set her up at a table with cake and punch and her bear, who had also been dressed for the occasion.  Everything was going swimmingly until one of the mothers present found the bear's toddler-size Tinkerbell underpants left carelessly on the lobby floor near the cake-eater.  She cracked up, but having raised four children of her own, took the wardrobe malfunction in stride. 

It's Spring!

Yes!  It's spring.  When we get home now at five, the kids run around the yard while I make dinner.  As long as the deck door is cracked so they can run in every few minutes and ask a question or request a snack, they're happy.  Here's a list of Adam's very practical vocabulary:

Ah-um = Both Adam and Abby
Nak = Snack
Frantically Waving Arms = Open the Nak
Nuh = Nuk
Baw = Ball
Cuh = Cup
Woof = Dog
Yah = Yes
Bmm-Bmm = Blankie
Coo-Coo = Cookie
Cah-Cah = Cracker

Mama, Dada, Hi, Bye, Up, Down, Out, Done all equal themselves.  Oh, and so does No!

Last night Eric lined up a sitter (thanks, Nana) and took me out to dinner and a night of one-acts at the college.  Then he gave me the whole morning off to work on yearbook!  Happy Mother's Day, indeed!

Bunked!