Three Feet & More

Jeremy grew 3/4 of an inch in the last five weeks, now measuring at 36 and 1/4 inches. Must be all of the pasta he inhales. Yesterday, he was served the finest macaroni and cheese EVER. Farfalle noodles swimming in melted sharp cheddar cheese. This was at the Crab House on Pier 39 in San Francisco. The three of us rode the train from Sacramento to the City for the day, where Jeremy petted some small rays and a leopard shark at the Aquarium, rode a very clunky merry-go-round, and barked with the sea lions. Today, he was treated to a visit with his beloved Nanny and Poppa.

Camping Out

Labor Day Weekend + Webkins = Camping at Bucks Lake high up in the Sierra Nevada mountains in Plumas County. Jeremy ran a alot. He ran forward and backward and forward again. He pushed dirt around with his shovels and his dump truck. He blew pine needles and other stuff with his leaf blower. He played in the water. He helped his Uncle Jim stoke the campfire. He gazed at the billions of stars in the mountain sky. He clenched his teeth through his first powerboat ride across the lake, and then relaxed in the front seat of a two-seater kayak with his fingers grazing the cool water along side the hull. He hiked a lakeside trail. He got really filthy. He slept deeply in a tent. He got carsick on the winding road up to the lake. He spotted deertracks and raccoon tracks. He loved every minute. And then when he got home, he sat glued to the TV as if he had been in the wilderness for a few days.

Fun at the (new) Nut Tree

For folks that have travelled I-80 in Northern California any time in the last, oh, 80 years, the Nut Tree has always been a much anticipated and sentimental stop for food, relaxation and a little shopping. Sadly, it closed several years ago, but now has "reopened." It is entirely different, so it really only bears the historic name. In its current incarnation, it is a sweet little amusement park that is most appealing to kids under 10.

Jeremy went yesterday and had a really good time riding the Merry-Go-Round, the train, and the rocking horses.

The most favorite ride of all was the "Flight School," which he went on at least a dozen times if he went once!

Mallory and "Gary"

I read The Boy At the End of the Road and winced at the memory that it evoked of Mallory last summer.

One evening as we were finishing our Chinese take-out dinner, the door-bell rang. It was Mallory, a talkative eight-year old entrepreneur from “nine houses down the street” imploring us to come to her yard sale. Never mind it was Wednesday night. You see, her mom planned to take her and her brother Colton to Toys R Us on Thursday, and Mallory wanted to sell some of her toys today to increase her spending power tomorrow. And she thought Jeremy “might want a little kid’s toy.”

So we took an after-dinner stroll, Barb and I on foot, Jeremy in his car, and Mallory chattering non-stop. Frankly, we could only hear every fourth word or so over the din of the car’s plastic wheels against the concrete. Mallory stopped her monologue at one point, though, to ask us directly, “Are both of you Jeremy’s mothers?” Without hesitation, I replied, “Yes, and we think Jeremy is pretty lucky to have two moms.” Mallory said in a nonjudgmental voice, “That’s weird.” She paused for a few beats, and then said quietly and matter-of-factly, “My parents are divorced, and I have a mom and a step-mother, and I don’t feel lucky.” Then she resumed her monologue, querying whether Jeremy would want the stuffed Scooby-Do (with a small hole) for $2, a wind-up Happy Meal car for $1, or the little dragon for fifty cents.

When we arrived nine houses down, there was no sign of a yard sale. There was sign of her father and step-mother, standing with hands on hips and glaring at Mallory.

Them, angrily: “What are you doing going off down the street and leaving your things out front?”

Her, chirping: “Going to get customers!”

Them, still angry: “Yard sale’s over. Get in the house.” Mallory scurried away into the garage.

Just as we turned Jeremy around to head home, though, Mallory scurried back with the little blue plastic dragon in her hand. She held it out to Jeremy. “I want him to have it for free.”

Them, loudly: “Mallory! Don’t give your things away!”

My heart was torn. Do I praise her for her generosity, or reinforce Their rules, since they are the parents. Even Jeremy sensed the tension. He examined the small dragon, and then purposefully handed it back to Mallory.

Me, sad for her: “Mallory, that is so kind of you, but your parents don’t want you to give your things away. Thank you for playing with Jeremy this evening.”

Mallory’s face twisted up, all blotchy. She spun on her heels and ran into the house without another word.

Who needs Toys R Us?

When you have a hose?

He's So Beautifully Two!

Anyone who has experience raising a two year old, please answer me this:

Why does Jeremy refuse to let Barb (aka "Bumble") to put him to bed, only to fidget and squirm and refuse to lay on his pillow for MamaNay, a nightly script where the penultimate scene depicts Jeremy hitting MamaNay in the face -- for suggesting that it is time to go to sleep -- and yelling at the top of his lungs for Bumble?

AAAACCCCCKKKKK!

Mind you, this is not a situation where the mommies are making the boy go to bed unreasonably early (even if we have fantasies of doing so). This all happens around 9:45pm or so. It doesn't matter what we do and how early we "go up to bed." He doesn't fall asleep until 10pm.

And, yes, he is tired enough. Today's activities included an hour's worth of non-stop paddling in the pool, his music/dance class, and tromping through the park. Most two-year-olds would be crashing around 8 or 8:30pm after the activities we put Jeremy through.

Why won't he just drift off to sleep gratefully?

Flyin' to Zion

The Webkins went to Zion National Park for a quick getaway last week. Jeremy is a master traveler and budding explorer.