The Cinco-eth Cinco de Charlie
Five years ago, we welcomed our baby burrito to the family fiesta! Even though I happened to be the pinata that day, it was one of the happiest I've had.
My El Guapito and I decided to celebrate with a little photo shoot. Those blue eyes earn him way more cookies and hugs than they probably should, but can you blame this love-struck Mamacita?
I was attempting to rush Prince Charles out the door so I could get to class, and he paused his overly-imaginative play and said, "Should I use Super Speed?"
I nodded enthusiastically, and my thoughtful blonde speed-demon asked, "What day is it?"
Knowing there was a Charlie-worthy punchline just ahead, I told him that it was Wednesday.
He said, "Oh. I can only use Super Speed on Thursdays and Saturdays."
* * *
When Eric opened up Charlie's bedroom door, he awoke him with some melodious Daddy tune. Charlie sat up in his bed, frowned, and silently gave Eric a thumbs-down.
Holden Goes to Prom
Holden's date is one of his closest friends, but apparently he didn't feel too comfortable getting too close. Her Mom and her Dad were posing the cheerful little couple and kept trying to get Holden to put his arm around their daughter or to make some sort of definable physical contact. At one point, her Dad pushed Holden's levitating hand onto his date's shoulder so it wasn't hovering two inches in the air.
His date's own Mother invited Holden to place his hand around her waist, and you can see from the photo that his hand is actually not anywhere near her body--it is in a G-rated galaxy far, far away.
I showed the squeaky clean photo to our Bishop at church the next Sunday to prove to him that his chastity lessons are certainly doing their job.
Oh Captain, My Captain
My two Orvals have been on my mind--one a grandfather and one a son. Both masters of language and skilled debaters. Both introverts to the core. Both willing to look outward if it helps someone else. I look forward to the day my two Orvals meet so they can swap stories and revel in their kindred kinship.
Since starting debate last year, Holden's dream has been to be the overall speech and debate captain for his senior year, but when it came down to it, he didn't even apply for the position because one of his good friends had applied. I kept needling him (in a kind, maternal way, of course) to apply for the position, but he refused. He applied to be the captain of just the debate team instead.
Holden came home after the debate teams' end-of-the-year party looking downcast. They had announced who all of the debate and speech captains for next year would be and his sad face had me worried.
He told me the dramatic tale about how they announced each of the captainships and someone else had been chose as the debate captain. I doubled his drama with my own gasp. I couldn't believe it.
He continued, "And then. . . they announced the overall Speech and Debate Captain and the coach said my name." He looked at me sheepishly as he realized that perhaps he had taken it a little too far for his poor Mother.
I smacked him a few times before I gave him several big hugs of congratulations.
I'm sure his namesake is both empathetic and proud.
Thank You, Elizabeth Cady Stanton!
My pre-Mothers' Day gift today was better than a whole garden of flowers and rooms full of chocolates. My oldest boy just strutted home after his AP History test and gave me a bear hug and a thank you for "all those conversations" that helped him write his main essay which happened to be about the Women's Rights Movement between 1945-1974. Who knew that years of cozy, casual mother and son moments about the value of women would help him earn college credit?
(And PS: Did you know that Elizabeth Cady Stanton was also a proud mother of seven in addition to all of her amazing political and social success?)
The frenzy of finale festivities included everything from sewing French chemist's lab coats to turning a Batman costume inside out to double as an ensemble for a third of the 3 Blind Mice (I. . . am. . . Ratman). We assembled Mexican outfits and patriotic costumes. We outfitted a raw egg for a 25 foot drop (which it survived, by the way. No Humpty Dumpty at our house this year). We made cakeballs that looked like Neptune (luckily we didn't have the planet Uranus [Oh my goodness! That is such an old, horrible joke, but it makes me laugh every time! I am such a bad person). There were recitals and AP tests and programs and we lived to see another school year end triumphantly. We survived both pageantry and the homework. And we are so grateful to welcome a summer full of simple learning and reading and practicing and celebrating. . . with no scheduled event-based performances.
A Plethora of Potter Parties
I'm over the Lupin moon about this one. (This will illustrate why I can't sleep when my brain is buzzing while I'm planning parties. . . it's kind of a curse.) We've had more than one Harry Potter themed soirée this month, and this is what we had for dessert to celebrate Sybill Trelawney and the power of Chocolate Divination. The chocolate crystal ball revealed a heart for love, a chocolate gold coin for riches, a sour patch kid for children, a grim-looking animal cracker, or a gummy shark for. . . death by shark. (And the ice cream hidden inside didn't hurt their future happiness either.)
We had a celebration with some good friends because they had also finished Book 3 of the series with their kids this month, Caleb's birthday party, Eve's End of the Year Party, and several Family Home Evening groups from Eric's ward on campus this month, so we decided to make each and every one of them Harry Potter themed. The Platform 9 and 3/4 sign on our door has been up so often our Muggle neighbors probably think that we're a bit magically muddled!
Our Family Home Evening lessons with the BYU-Idaho students even had a Harry Potter theme. We decided to talk about our relationship with God and compared when Moses finds out he's a son of God to when Harry finds out he's a wizard.
I hadn't warned Marie I was going to ask her any questions in front of the students because I wanted her responses to be genuine and unrehearsed.
When I asked her how Harry felt when he found out he was a wizard, she gave her trademark thoughtful look and said, "Well. . . it was like Harry knew he was a wizard in his heart, but he couldn't quite believe it in his head. So he just had to get his heart to trust his head and believe."
There was a long pause before we could go on with the lesson.
Luckily our dear friends, the Wilsons, love Harry Potter as much as we do and could celebrate The Prisoner of Azkaban with us!
Our own little Hedwig delivered the invitations. It can't possibly get any cuter than this. My heart will explode.
My Dumbledore was feeling guilty that he got home late the night of Eve's party, so I had just the right amount of leverage to make him dress up to greet our party guests ( I was so glad he was late!).