Obviously, we don't want the children to start requesting to be breast-fed. The goal for this year is for them to become more independent, as they seek out new learning opportunities in new environments, not regress and become more dependent. To that end, I've found that I've become shameless in poking and prodding people into being guest teachers. About two years ago Judd the Red Chicken decided that he no longer wanted to wear regular ties to church -- he was a bow-tie guy. Fine. I bought him some velcro numbers, and Big Sister and his Nana made him a couple more. While I recognize that they are the fashion equivalent to the faux-turtleneck dickie, they have served us well. However, when a super-cool young bow-tie-wearing fashionisto leaned over in church one time to give my kid the thumbs-up on wearing a bow-tie, I immediately seized the opportunity and requested a lesson on real tying. He was super great and came for dinner this weekend with his wife and another family of friends (who happen to have teenage boys who were also taught the art of bow-tie construction by this ever-so-nice-hipster). Not only did the bow-tie-master come to give the lesson, but he also brought a bow-tie to give to my kid. How nice is that? The Boy learned how to tie a bow-tie. I read about a bow-tie club in England -- in the advertisement (please, for the love of all that's decent read that with the proper accenting -- there should be a "tiz" in the middle there) it mentioned that only those who know how to tie their own bow-tie can be a member. Check.
This weekend the kids asked to use their pocket knives to carve something out of soap. It's quite hard. We gained proper perspective on what a gift it is when Boo makes the figures for Jem and Scout.
Our altar was created with our Chinatown finds. We ordered Chinese food for dinner and went to a Chinese New Year festival put on by the Chinese members in our church. When the enormous dragon-lion came down the aisle and batted its eyelashes and wiggled its mutant face in my face I did this weird jazz-hands thing that The Girl keeps teasing me about.
And we did indeed make the cake to celebrate The Boy's newly acquired understanding of the Roman numerals. We added mandarin orange slices to Chinese it up a bit. Our friends that were over for dinner made a proper fuss about the accomplishment. Kind people -- that is something to celebrate.
