This weekend, we are spending Saturday and Sunday at Jiggle Jam, a children's music festival at Crown Center. Ben liked the music, but really enjoyed the bounce houses, snacks, and the fountains. Here are pictures from our first day.
I remember vividly the first time I heard, "May I speak to Benjamin's mother?". It was a few days after we came home from the hospital. The caller was one of the nurses at Dr. Hostetler's office calling to confirm our 1-week visit. The question made me pause and fumble for an answer. Oh my God. I'm someone's mother. Woah.
This week, we received a very official letter from the Shawnee Mission School District addressed "To The Parents of Benjamin Mayfield." Oh my God. I'm someone's parent. I'm someone's parent who is getting a letter from the school district. Eek.
In October (yes, October of 2008), we requested a transfer from the elementary school our neighborhood attends to Highlands Elementary. We were told that we'd have to wait to see how the enrollment numbers played out. It was first come, first serve. We were 5th on the list. They also told us that it might be AUGUST before we'd know if the transfer had been approved. So we waited. We attended Kindergarten parent night at both schools and waited. And waited. (Have you met me? I don't wait well. I don't deal with the unknown well. I began wondering who to bribe with baked goods or gifts.)
Anyway, the letter addressed "To the Parents of Benjamin Mayfield" was to inform us that our transfer request had been approved. HOORAY! Ben will be a Highland Hawk as long as he's in elementary school (and as long as his academic performance, attendance, and behavior are not "less than satisfactory." HA!).
We are officially on the road to Kindergarten. Here's hoping that all the letters addressed "To the Parents of Benjamin Mayfield" contain good news.
Today, Ben's class hosted a Mother's Tea just in time for Mother's Day. He was quick to inform me that we wouldn't be having actual TEA. "Tea is gross. Kids don't like it. We'll have punch. But, Mom? We don't call it Mother's Punch. It's Mother's TEA. TEEEEEAAAAA. Ok?"
One of the highlights was his class singing "You Are My Sunshine" while doing the sign language. I think some of Ben's signs might get lost in the translation for the deaf community, but it was pretty darn cute.
This morning, I found evidence of a 30+ pound "mouse" that has been helping himself to items in the pantry. First, it was the bag of marshmallows--opened and shoved on the bottom shelf next to the cereal. Then, I found a box of Girl Scout cookies that was opened, with one ENTIRE SLEEVE of cookies missing...just the wrapper was left in the box.
Just as I was about to mention this "mouse" to Ben, I looked in the kitchen to see his behind peeking out from the pantry. He had climbed in to stand on the bottom shelf and then pulled the door almost all the way closed while he ransacked the snacks. I guess I'll spend part of this rainy day reorganizing the pantry.
Just in time for spring, it's another installment of "Ben Says".
Last night, while we were out at dinner, the server brought our bill and jokingly handed it to Ben:
B: What am I supposed to do with this? Make a paper airplane?
This morning while watching cartoons:
B: That freaks me out. It gives me the "shitters".
H: What?
B: The "shitters".
H: Do you mean the "shivers"?
B: Nope. Not when you're cold.
D: Uhhhh...
H: Yeah, the "shivers" when you're cold or scared.
B: Nope. It's the "shitters". You know... like you do when you're really freaked out. You get the "shitters."
D: Right. ShiVVVVVVers.
H: Well, technically, you're both right...
B: Yeah. When you put your fingers in your mouth and look worried... the "shitters."
Good grief. I was all set to dye Easter eggs with Ben this afternoon while Don is enjoying the Royal's home opener. I got Ben all whipped into a frenzy about how much fun we'd have with the egg kits I bought--- nothing says "Easter" like Transformers. Anyway, I explained the process, that we'd boil the eggs, let them cool, put the dye tablets in containers, add vinegar and water, watch them fizz, then dip the eggs. The promise of this fantastic event even bought me time to do our taxes uninterrupted. Then I realized.... I bought the same eggs I always buy. Free-range, tree-hugging-hippie-local farm-BROWN eggs. 2 dozen. BROWN eggs. Guess before we boil the eggs, we'll go to the store for white ones.
And, what am I going to do with 4 dozen eggs? Lots of omelets, quiches, egg salad, deviled eggs, etc. in our future. Have I mentioned that I don't even really like eggs? Stupid hippie hens.
Ben finally got the snow he's been asking for since January. Even though it was still snowing pretty hard, we made the most of it this afternoon with sledding, snow angels, and a snowman.
