Will it stop?

Amelia and I walked down the stairs this morning with her usual load of fifteen stuffed animals and her essential blanket to get some breakfast while seeing Elijah off to school. It was a morning like any other morning of the week except for one small detail. Zach was not in his high chair eating his waffle, banana and yogurt breakfast greeting Amelia as she sat in her booster seat.

"Where's Zach?" She asked motioning toward the empty station.

"He's at orientation for his new school." I replied.

As I stirred some oatmeal into some yogurt for Amelia something occurred to me; just how quiet it was then, and would be from now on. Now by no means am I saying that Zach is a loudmouth, because I think decibel for decibel, Amelia might by able to beat him in a screaming contest by three, but rather that they engage in perpetual conversation with one another in their own language during the times I am preparing breakfast or lunch. It's very amusing to listen to both of them giving instructions to each other on how to conduct themselves in a manner consistent with the day to day lessons given by their respective parents, all the while without using any actual words. As a family, we were able to enjoy this exchange every morning for the last year.

It makes me sad to think that we will be losing their daily banter after today. While, sure, I chat with both of them individually all the time I can never seem to get that free flowing, experimental ramble they evoke from each other. Honestly, I think their words sound more fun than talking about shapes, colors and the letter "A", anyway, so from here on out, I will be speaking only Zach and Amelia's language, aka Zamelish, so as to lesson the impact of Zach's departure on Amelia. Enjoy.

Baabaabaabaa. B'danke bwowket.. Ish..ish..foood. nah, nah, nah. ogut. toklat. mamee wock. I'shah buh pop. Bap pap, dacket, itten. Poppy, elmo, poppy, neh'ee, b'danket. Nigh nigh.

That's right. Nigh, nigh, everybody.

So long

When you go through "contacts" listing of your cell phone, do you sometimes see names you would love to call and just say, "hi" to, but it has  been too long since you have spoken and you're not really sure if you still have anything in common with them anymore? Do you feel like a call out of the blue would be too awkward to bear and you might just end up trying to force small talk about the weather or news? Well, if you are anything like me, I enjoy hearing from long lost friends even just to tell me they are OK; or even if they want to tell me they're not OK, I am all ears either way. 

At least I hope you're like me, because today I am that long lost friend calling out of the blue after a multiple week hiatus from the blogosphere.

So how is the weather where you are?

Yeah? Here, too. 

Wow, so how about that Obama, eh? Yeah, tell me about it!

OK, then. Great talking to you. 

Go Gators!

Bye, now.  

Oh, you're still here? Good. Because this week is a momentous week in history and you should dedicate the next minute or so to reading so you can find out why. 

This approaching Friday will see my prize pupil graduate to begin attending an institute of higher learning (which happens to be much closer to his home). Yes, Zach will be moving to his new daycare at weeks end to sorrowful goodbyes on the parts of myself and his best bud, Amelia. 

It's amazing to think back to when he first arrived at my doorstep wrapped in a blanket, laying in a bread basket with a note attached reading, "I like mac and cheese"... no, just kidding, his parents have way more social grace than that. It was a Longaberger.

Those were fun times indeed, with Fred, Zach and Amelia, the spunky three, keeping me on my toes all day long. While it was three times the fun at play time, it was also a bit tricky to manage on occasion, what with me having only two hands and all. Parents of triplets, my hat is off to you. 

After Fred left, though, it was just Amelia and Zach, who have become very close. It's a funny kind of relationship in which I believe Amelia thinks of Zach as her son and Zach thinks of Amelia as some type of ogre. Granted she is a super cute ogre who is fun to play with, but an ogre nonetheless. And it is of no fault of her own, as it is only because she is a bit taller than he. The height difference can be a little intimidating sometimes when you're the little guy on the playground, though. Fortunately, for Zach, he has always had an even taller friend than the tallest kid in school who also happened to be a peaceful mediator and could resolve any territorial disputes with book time, crayon art, or snacks. 

All in all, despite any disagreements they have over who gets the "rootin' tootin' pig racer mobile" they have interacted wonderfully with each other and are both happier as a result of having their everyday play-date in a type of kinship only siblings can share. 

Zach, we will miss you buddy. And remember this advice for the future, never feel like you can't call just because it's been a long time. I will always love to hear from you.

Don't be testy

Under the dictionary definition of "male", our dog, Niko, no longer qualifies, therefore we are considering adding an "le" to the end of his name. On the brighter side, there are only seven days remaining in his forced victimization to Queen Elizabeth's fashion advice: Yikes, girl...what on earth were you thinking?!!

Please, folks, try to remember while looking at this picture, pity is a weak emotion and will serve only to make your quest in becoming pack leader a more difficult one. 

The Absence of Krampus

Santa was good to us this year, as he is often expected to be, (despite a few white transgressions I've personally beheld in the household) delivering just about everything we had hoped for. A large part of the everything was being able to spend Christmas with the people we love, making it a true success to be recorded in the annals of historic celebrations. The only present we couldn't have was the presence of a few loved ones living afar, but fortunately, via web cam or, at least, Christmas spirit, we could be with everyone else...you know who you are!

..and a happy New Year.

Our kids, who are still very much kids, still see Christmas mostly as "the day to get presents", which makes sense, since one's true appreciation of together time kicks into high gear only in adulthood, usually right around the time when the family tree of origin becomes too large for the flower pot in which it was planted. Even still, under the materialistic pretenses of toy wishing, it was enjoyed thoroughly; maybe even three quarters to the extent of Santa's jolly; and that's an awful lot.

Among Amelia's favorites were a kitchen set, which includes an oven, cookware and knives that can cut through toy bread like a lightsaber through warm krylonium: and, her other favorite, a Dora the Explorer rocking horse, which looks to be more fun than most of the playground equipment I remember riding on as a kid : I know what you're thinking, but the weight limit only goes up to 45 pounds, so you might be just a tad too big. Sorry.

Elijah has been darting all around the house with his new spy-gear equipment in his quest to become the next James Bond...by the way, he likes his chocolate milk shaken , not stirred. Most of his lego sets have taken on more of the form of Star Wars vehicles and less of giant plastic puddles of pointed pokey pieces, to Elijah's (and Dad's) delight; though Elijah admitted to me that he enjoys the part of putting them together best. Such is life. All fun rides come to an end, but I suppose you just have to get back in line and wait for the next one to start.

Speaking of fun rides, Zach, too, has been enjoying the spoils of Amelia's high tech Dora hobby horse. Zach rides that pinto as if it were lightning streaking across the western planes in search of the promised land of gold and tasty snacks. Just this morning, I could have sworn I heard him hollering yee-haw. Yep, it's that fun...but remember folks, before you start making travel arrangements to come over to our house, there's a 45 pound weight limit.

--------------------------

A man and his seven year old son were laying on the couch on Christmas day among mounds of wrapping paper and carelessly torn open boxes.

"Did you have a good Christmas, son?"

"Yeah, it was pretty good."

"Just pretty good?" Dad inquired.

"Well, it's just that," the son began whispering, "last night after I went to bed, I thought I heard a noise in the living room and tiptoed down stairs to see if Santa was here."

"So, what did you find when you got there?" asked Dad

"It wasn't Santa."

"No? Who was it"

"It was you, Dad. You were standing next to the fireplace, and you were eating the cookies off the mantel that I had left for Santa."

"Oh, I see." The man paused, unsure how to proceed.

After a long hesitation, the son whispered pensively, "I've been thinking a lot about what I saw last night, and I think I might have figured something out."

"Really? What did you figure out, son?" His dad, at full attention, perked up in his seat eager to hear his son's revelation.

"Well", he said, "We probably could have gotten a lot more presents if you weren't such a jerk."