School In Our Jammies

Friday found us training to Windsor.  The only sight cuter than kids on their first airplane ride has to be kids on their first train.

“MOM!” exclaimed Miss Nomi.  “That train has two fronts!”  This observant preschooler was noting a train whizzing past us with an engine on the front and another one on the back.  The Mommy explanation, “that’s so trains can go forwards and backwards instead of turning around”,  was spot-on.  Auntie Erin even attempted to demonstrate by walking forwards and backwards in the aisle, which was helpful but lost in the excitement of the next big thing.

“One more!” shouted Mr. Mo, as another train whizzed by ours.  Those oncoming trains appear to be going really, really fast, and there are plenty of them.

“Moses, can you say ‘two more’?”

“One more!”

Preschoolers would have been satisfied to spend the whole day watching trains, and yet we had a castle to visit.

Windsor in winter is so much more pleasant than Windsor in May.  In May, Opa and I stood in line for an hour just to get through the gate.  Today— no line.  No crowds.

The Baumgaertel/Easley/Stoner contingent is in Reading, currently waiting the signal to walk to rehearsal and rehearse.  Our lovely morning began, of course, with a jaunt to Workhouse Coffee.  First, we found and hugged the bride and groom:

Next, we took a let’s-recover-from-jetlag walk to Forbury Park, where we promised Emiline a big lion statue.

The thing is impressive, especially if you’re short.  We also found a fountain, but there were no whales in it.

Our objective was to get some fresh air, which was plentiful, blowing, and wet.  Since the gates to the Abbey Ruins were locked from our side, and the walk around to the other side was more fresh air than we cared for at this time, we hightailed it back to our flat/house for naps.

The end.  But not, since rehearsal and rehearsal dinner followed.  Stay tuned.

Our three wee preschoolers took their (very much anticipated) flight to London Tuesday night.  All I have to say is that Mr. Mo and I are similarly content with our very own screens and the food which periodically appears in front of us.

What could be better, really.

Well, sleep could be better/more plentiful, but this little guy and the girlies made up for the lack of snoozing by their happy happy attitudes.

Whew.

Hello, Blog!

It’s been a while. Let’s get coffee and catch up.

Well, no. I have no time for coffee.

Can I just catch you up with a simple list? Thanks.

1. Letter P was a wash: For want of some craft feathers no peacocks were made, for want of a pattern no penguins were made; for want of dry weather no zoo trip was made (where we could have seen both birds) for want of some dough no pizza was made…but we’ll try again after the nuptials.
2. Miss Nomi and Mr. Mo spent five nights with OmaOpa.
3. We rode a Washington State ferry from Bremerton to Seattle. Got off, looped back through the lobby, bought our return ticket, and sailed home.Preschoolers do not need a Seattle waterfront experience.
4. Letter Q was almost a wash, but thanks to ancient bridesmaid dresses languishing in the closet, Queen Sheba (she’s the one in purple) and Queen Elizabeth (who has London on the brain?) made Queen crowns and played with trucks.
5. I have no recollection whatsoever of Letter R.
6. Miss Em spent a night. “Wear this,” I was told, so I did.

7. Otherwise, those nuptials!

8. We leave for the UK in one week.

9. I have made two flower girls’ dresses. I still need to hem the reindeer’s ringbearer’s trousers, hem one bridesmaid dress, hem my dress, and craft a fascinator without a pattern.

10. So, Blog. Coffee would be grand. Let me know when you’re free.

If you give your preschoolers a paint set, they’ll need some water to go with it.

When you give each their very own bowl of water, they’ll swirl their paint brushes into it until it turns royal blue and then brown.

Soon they’ll tire of painting their “O is for Ocean” papers and paint their hands instead.

When their hands are royal blue, they’ll look around for something else to paint.

You’ll dash upstairs and grab the sea critters out of the tub.  When they tire of painting bath toys, you’ll whisk each preschooler to the sink and attempt to wash the water-soluble watercolors from their hands.

Warm, soapy water won’t work for this, so you’ll suggest a walk outside.

When you and Opa are cold and tired of watching your preschoolers zoom down the driveway in their little cars, you’ll suggest a treat.

Back inside, you’ll offer them a bar.  They’ll want fruit snacks instead, so you’ll hand each a bag and ask them to sit on the rug. Of course, they’ll want hot chocolate with whip cream and sprinkles to go with their fruit snacks, so you’ll move them to the kitchen.

Next, you’ll fix hot chocolate and pour it into their itty-bitty teacups.  Eventually, one or more of your preschoolers will spill her hot chocolate on the kitchen counter.

Before you can grab a towel to wipe up their messes, they’ll discover how to slurp it from the counter top so as not to waste a single drop.

You’ll note that hot chocolate stains faces as well as royal blue, water-soluble watercolor paints do.

And, you’ll press on to “P is for Penguin” next week.

Hello, January.  It’s good to see you, even though.

My preschoolers think so, too, although mostly they just enjoyed their NOODLE NECKLACES, their NURSE coloring pages and their NIGHT craft (with stars and the moon).

The takeaway for me, though, was NOSTALGIA.

You see, January, Opa found an old flip phone whilst cleaning out his desk drawer on Wednesday.  Instead of tossing it (in a box to be stored in the garage and found on future January day…perhaps 2050?) I suggested he set it out for the little people to “play” with.  Our old technology = their playthings.

Miss Letter N-for-Nomi took charge.

Miss N:  Elliline, want to watch a movie on my phone?

Miss Em: Yas.

Miss N:  Okay.  Let me see if I can get Internet.

Miss N:  Okay.  Now, what do you want to watch?

Miss Em: Dumbo. I want to watch Dumbo.

Miss N, “scrolling” with her fingers across the flip phone screen: Okay.  It’s at the end.  Here you go.

For his part, Mr. Mo was a bit clingy and in NEED of his binky this day, but perked up after a NICE, long NAP.

In fact, he discovered the joys of stomping NOODLES.  Noodles, dear January, don’t craaack ‘neath bare boy feet on carpet; however, if you move them to the hard floor and don your boots, the effect is grand.

See you next week, January.  Those noodles should be gone by then.

‘Twas two days before Christmas, December twenty-the-third,

When gathered the B’s – yes, the whole family herd!

Christmas Eve-Eve was chosen as the celebration date,

Since Jenny the nurse would have no patients to sedate.

Landing on Saturday came Jessica from White Rock

Fetched by both Stoners at about four o’clock.

Poor Jasper, however, was still stuck in the UK;

We missed him but did Skype with the Thrussells that day.

Arrived next were Baums with coffee, breakfast and child

Then fast on their heels followed three Easleys who styled —

Their holiday jammies and ‘nog (but no chicken livers).

Bub would be late cuz he had a tractor to deliver.

He would join us later — we knew it for sure,

(Although our flat tree held for him scant allure.)

We’d promised him prime rib, mashed spuds and brown gravy,

Plus, homemade eggnog from his lovely wife Amy.

Not the least of our gang were a couple of Stoners;

Matt and Jenny comprised the last of the donors.

They brought us more beverages, filling the fridge

Which now barely had room; just a wee little smidge.

Our punkins had not seen the aunties for a time

So they frolicked, and fumbled and began all to climb.

And as much as all that was entertaining and fun,

Oma proposed some fresh air where all could go run!

We marched to the cul-de-sac, where muddy puddles galore,

light bulbs, inflatables, an uncle, and the corps,

entertained us quite well, a half-hour you know!

Then trooping back home, we mixed our yule dough.

After naps and the coloring of Christmas scenes all

The rib was just ready, but where the in-law?

We needed our presents! We wanted our grub!

But most we all wondered, when would come Bub?

When what to our wondering eyes should appear,

A man with stout evergreen, bedecked so with cheer!

“Hoo ha!” laughed the lot of them, seeing him first –

“Bub’s here to save Christmas!” as through the door he burst.

Oma’s artsy flat tree was merely a crafty job,

Not a classic, true spruce to make a heart throb.

Thus, all lauded Bub greatly! We hailed him as hero!

He saved us our Christmas!  He deserves a marshmallow.

Here’s a short post for a sweet week, folks.  We learned that Letter M was for Moses, moose, and men – as in the gingerbread variety.

We measured, mixed, smelled and tasted our dough.  We washed our hands and the towels we would have dried them with.

We rolled.  We baked.

Best of all, we wore our new aprons.

And thus, we ended our 2019 preschool trot through the alphabet.

“L” is for llama (which rhymes with “mama”), but this is a post for all my Granny, Grammy, Grandma, Mimi, Nana and Abuelita friends: did you ladies watch local news last week?  Did you hear the latest Orca research?

Apparently, after decades of observation, whale biologists have concluded that Oma Orcas are crucial to the survival of the species.  In fact, Orca matriarchs are among only three species — pilot whales and humans are the other two — continuing to play a vital role in their family group.  Grandma Orcas keep Orca offspring alive.  Known as the Grandmother Effect, this phenomenon begs two questions:  Why is granny living so long past her reproductive obligations? And, what in the Salish Sea is she doing with all her free time?

Does she go to movies with Opa Orca in the middle of the day on a Friday? Does she jet off to white-sand beaches with her fellow Granny Orca pals? Does she take up golf? Dust her baseboards?  Bake yule logs?  Read nonfiction?  Nap?

Sometimes she does those things, for sure.

But also this great matriarch freely shares her storehouse of cultural and practical information.  Is the pod going hungry because Chinook are scarce? Oma Orca knows where they’re hiding.   Is Mama Orca hoping to sneak up to the bathroom and eat that last piece of Oma’s gingerbread cake in peace?  Oma Orca distracts the young’uns.

Do the little whales want to squirt glue and glitter onto “Letter L” llamas all by themselves?  Oma Orca doesn’t mind.

Do the little Orca ladies need to learn the dialect of their pod, including which way to orient Letter L before the glue dries?  (Oma Orca knows when to let that go.)

Does the little Orca lad want to line four dining room chairs along the kitchen counter so he can drive his rig on a smooth surface?  Oma Orca can chuckle, because she knows that he knows that she’s the real boss.

Whale biologists write of J2, “Granny”, who was probably 105 when she died.  Granny was the Lady Grantham of J Pod, reigning perhaps 50 years beyond menopause until she disappeared into the depths of the Salish Sea.

Granny, I salute you.

‘Twas a month before Christmas when Oma stood in her house,

Which was vacuumed and purty, thanks – in part – to her spouse.

The carpets were cleaned by the pros with much care

Removing neat hairballs that Scout had left there.

No longer had Oma some essays to grade,

She felt rather free, and for that she hoorayed!

Opa, too, was enjoying his mini vacation,

By whacking some brush growing on their plantation.

“Ho hum,” sighed the Oma on December the fourth,

“I’d best get a tree for our kiddies, henceforth.”

But then she was fraught with lethargy and more

Dreading tree dryness plus needles, all over her floor.

And the space the evergreen must needs occupy,

The hassle of spending, and the trend to overbuy.

“Do you think they’ll all mind,” she wondered aloud,

“If we don’t buy a tree – would we be disavowed?”

“Nah,” said the Opa, who desired to please,

“We’ll still have the presents and all the goodies.”

So jumping straight in the Prius she drove, off to JoAnns

To buy all the stuffs and things, completing her plans.

When what to her jaded eyes should appear —

Empty shelves!  Deep discounts! Devoid of all cheer!

“Do you have those fake garlands?” she asked of the lady.

“Eh, maybe outside in the bin!” responded she gaily.

There were just enough, even plenty for sure –

Oma’s project would work!  Her plan was secure!

It took some few hours of stapling the wall –

Yet the outcome — stupendous!  Surely it would enthrall!

One day after she finished, on December the five,

Came the littles all merry, into the drive.

“Oma!  I’ve missed you!” cried the young Mr. Mo,

Dragging his blanket and screaming, just so.

Miss Nomi walked right in through the door,

“Why’s there a tree on your wall?  What’s it there for?”

“Do you like it?” asked Oma, removing their boots,

“Yep, you can touch it, though it doesn’t have roots!”

And touched it they did, then promptly forgot

Running off to their breakfast, toys, and what not.

Letter “K” was the subject of preschool this day,

Though K’s not for Christmas, kangaroos were okay.

Also K’s not for cookies, but that didn’t matter,

Since rolling’s just fun with some peanut batter.

T’was later that evening, came there a short message

Asking plainly if Christmas could survive such abusage?

“I just received word! No real tree for this year!

And I’m worried – quite plainly – what will become of our cheer?”

That question was likely, Oma new it – indeed.

She knew he would ask, and probably plead.

“All will be well,” she answered the fellow.

“Our day be not spoiled by my artsy placebo.

Remember, my in-law, the day’s much more than a tree –

We’ll have drinks, food and presents! Some ‘specially for thee!”

His eyes, will they twinkle when he comes to our house?

Will he eat heaping prime rib portions, not wanting to grouse?

Oma thinks yes!  Because sure as can be —

This one, though peculiar, is certainly NO dummy.