FeeFiFoto Blog

The Five Stages Of Valentine Candy

When did giving out Valentines in school become such a big deal?

1. Denial: No, you don't need to attach candy to all your classmates' Valentines.  The card is more than enough. 
   
2. Anger: When I was a kid we just gave out those dinky foldover Valentines and that was enough for us.  We didn't need to make a whole federal case out of Valentine's Day.


3. Bargaining: What if I just get you a big lollipop and we'll forget about candy for everyone else? (see original image here)


4. Depression: We're going to be in a Depression if we don't stop spending all our money indulging the entire fourth grade


5. Acceptance: Fine.  Go ahead and buy whatever candy you want.  I'm tired of arguing. (image here)

How long does it take you to give in?

No Bullies Allowed

Ever been the victim of bullying? Ever been a bully-enabler?

Chapter Eight.  That's all you need to know: CHAPTER. EIGHT.  The rest is prelude and epilogue, and while it might occupy you if you need something to read, you don't need it like you need Chapter 8.

I'm reading Jodee Blanco's Please Stop Laughing At Us... One Survivor's Extraordinary Quest to Prevent School Bullying.  Ms. Blanco offers a stirring (although frequently wordy and sometimes garbled) memoir of relentless persecution by classmates beginning in elementary school and enduring all through high school.  Her story is gruesome and at times so extreme as to be barely believable, except that we've all seen it, inflicted it or lived it.

Visit Blanco's excellent and attractive web site for information on her program, It's NOT Just Joking Around!, and by all means pick up her new book (I am NOT being compensated in any way for this review.  Jodee Blanco doesn't know me from Adam.  I feel very strongly about this issue), but if you don't have the inclination, merely bookmark this post because I'm going to give you the quick and dirty intro to her program right now.

Here we go.

"How often are you hanging out by the lockers with your friends when someone who you don't think is cool passes you in the hall?  You and your friends look at each other and roll your eyes, perhaps even snicker.  I know that you're not trying to be mean,' I explain.  "You're just joking around, right?"  Heads begin to nod.  "Wrong!" I shout.  "To that person, it's not just joking around.  When you ridicule, bully, exclude, or ignore someone on purpose, treat that person as if you wish they didn't exist, you're damaging them for life," I exclaim."

...

"I thought things would be different [in high school].  There was this girl who let me sit at her table every day as long as I promised not to talk, to her or her friends.  Can you imagine how hard that was?  ...Then, one afternoon, one of them gets up and tells me that I can't sit there anymore.  'It's not like we hate you or anything,' she says.  'It's just that everybody else does, and we don't need them to start giving us a hard time too.'  I begged them to reconsider, explaining that no one else would let me sit at their table.  'Look, Jodee, it's nothing personal.'  I then began what would become the most humiliating journey of my life, going from table to table begging people to let me sit with them."

"Eventually I ran out of the cafeteria and into the bathroom and cried," I say.  "But if a teacher had gone up to any of those kids and said, 'Hey, you guys, I just saw Jodee weeping in the lavatory, what did you do to her?' they would all have responded, 'We didn't do anything.'  And they would have been telling the truth!  Bullying isn't just the mean things you do," I say.  "It's all the nice things you never do!  Letting someone sit alone at lunch pretending not to see how badly that person wishes to be included?  Bullying!  Letting someone walk to class by themselves afraid to talk to anyone for fear of being rejected?  Bullying!  Always choosing the same person last whenever dividing into teams for gym or class?  Bullying!  It's all bullying!"

Recognize yourself in any aspect of this story?  I'd be surprised if you didn't unless you were home schooled and even so -- who knows? maybe your mother was a bully.

Bullying is like psychological kudzu: we might never eliminate it, but we can fight like the dickens to control it.  Whatever protection we can offer our children and each other will be better than what our parents and teachers offered us (not assigning blame here -- they did what they thought was right), which amounted to: "Ignore them.  They're just jealous because you're so smart/talented/pretty/bipedal/straight haired/curly haired/bucktoothed..." 

Blanco's most surprising, yet sensible, piece of advice is not to ignore bullies at all:

"Never ignore the bully and walk away.  You must look the bully in the eye without any emotion or fear, command him to stop, and then stare him down just long enough to let him know you mean business.  Next, begin walking away, and then turn briefly back toward him and say "See you later."...  [S]tanding up for yourself nonviolently in the moment abuse occurs is your human right."

Thoughts anyone?  If you had to choose a side, which would it be?

NOTE: According to Strollerderby, today marks the beginning of No Name-Calling Week.

How Do You Spell "Excited"?

My kids are pretty smart.  And talented. 

No, really -- they're both geniuses, each destined to bring me home scads of awards, including but not limited to the Nobel prize each owes me for enduring unspeakably queasy pregnancies.

The latest evidence?  Cupcake has made it through the first round of her school's spelling bee.  She'll be one of four students representing the 4^th grade at the all-school (well, actually 4^th, 5^th and 6^th grades, since allowing the lower grades to compete would be time consuming and demoralizing, albeit hilarious) spelling bee.

She got in the car yesterday afternoon screaming, and for once the screaming had nothing to do with being hungry or hating homework or the unfairness of having to run laps in gym class.

She called various relatives to bask in the glow of their praise.  My favorite exchange was the text messaging between Cupcake and her incomparable cousin, Artypants:

Hi AP!  It's Cupcake.  Today we had our class spelling bee and guess who's going to the school spelling bee?  That's right.  Hope you're having a good day!!! :-)

And the following response:

Congratulashons thet's grate!

I'll be there on January 15^th, trying to keep my lips from moving as I spell each word along with her in my head.

PS: It's National Lemon Cupcake Day!!  It's all about the cupcakes.

Declaration Of Independence Composed By My Fourth Grader: Interesting Homework Assignments

The assignment was to compose your own version of The Declaration of Independence, without reading the original first. 

Here's what Cupcake produced, with, I swear, no help from me or anyone else:

We the citizens of the United States of America hereby declare independence against England. We believe that monarchy is a poor form of government and we should live in a democracy. We will vote and make laws together. We will decide our taxes fairly. We will rule all in one place, not 3000 miles away from each other. We will rule better than the British Empire ever has because we will choose our leaders fairly, not just let them rule because they were born with the power. The British shall tell us what to do no more. We believe that King George III, King of England in this year, 1776, has done many things wrong, and we know that while we govern ourselves, we shall not repeat these mistakes. King George permitted the British parliament to tax us without a representative. Because of that, we were given horrible taxes and laws such as the Stamp Act, the Townshend Duties, the Declaratory Act, the Coercive Acts (which consisted of the Boston Port Act, the Quartering Act, the Administration of Justice Act, and the Massachusetts Government Act) and the Tea Act.

We are now the United States of America, free and happy in our own country. No longer are we the 13 Colonies, enslaved by the power of the British. No longer shall we pay un-approved taxes. No longer shall we give our money to the British for their selfish reasons and unworthy causes. No longer shall we endure the tyranny of King George. No longer shall we do as the British say. Now we shall open our arms to embrace the new life we have chosen to take. Now we are free! And that is why, on this day, July 4th , 1776, we declare independence!

I covered the American Revolution in 4th grade too.  We spent a considerable amount of time talking about linsey-woolsey, wooden teeth, and chopping down cherry trees.

Are your children getting a better education than you got?

Can This Girl Be My New Best Friend?

Cupcake and I saw this girl perform this poem at the convention where Cupcake's choir performed yesterday.  I want to have lunch with Taylor Phillips every day for the next year.  And dinner.  And tea.  I want her to come to my house and just talk and be brilliant.  Knowing someone like her might make me feel smart.

Order Personalized Photo Calendars from FeeFiFoto before midnight on November 15 and receive FREE standard shipping to any single address in the Continental United States.  Apply coupon code CALFREESHIP09 at checkout.

Offer Expires: November 15, 2009

Stay tuned: after this offer expires you can get a discount on Personalized Photo Ornaments!

When I Was In School, Field Trips Seemed A Lot Less Strenuous

Field trips seemed to be a bit more fun when I was in school.

Gained some unanticipated Fun Mom points this morning by going on a combo fourth grade / first grade field trip to the pumpkin farm, which had been rescheduled from Monday because it's been raining nonstop here since, oh, September.  2007.  Or at least it feels that way.

Cupcake is in the fourth grade and each fourth grader partners up with a first grader as writing buddies.  One of the first grade classes is taught by my sister, so I had the opportunity to collect double points for going on a dual field trip.

Did I mention it's been raining since, oh, April?  2004?

Today was the one day this week predicted to be rain free (not cloud free or gloom free, but at least rain free), so the field trip was rescheduled.  I put on my schlucking-through-the-mud boots and drove and drove across the river and into another state (what, we don't have any pumpkin farms in our own state?) and got to the pumpkin farm before anyone else, and in fact before they were even open.  While I stood in a less muddy spot waiting for the buses to arrive, I saw farmhands scattering mulch and other organic stuff that I didn't have the courage to examine any closer over some of the many goopy spots (remember?  raining since July, 1997?) near the entrance to the farm.  I waited as one yellow school bus arrived.  And then another.  And then about fifty more, all piloted by extremely hefty women with tattoos on their ankles, cigarettes in their hands and curses on their lips.

When I got cold I considered getting back in my car and retreating home, but knowing that Fun Mom points don't kick in until the children actually arrive at the field trip destination, I put on another sweatshirt (I travel very heavy in the winter, schlepping coats and jackets of every size and weight in the trunk of the car just in case), and returned to the parking lot to await the little darlings.

Once they arrived, unloaded lunches and water bottles and split into groups, I trailed along after Cupcake and her little friend as they sampled the corn maze and another corn maze, paused briefly to compose the obligatory haiku paeans to pumpkins and corn mazes, and then queued up for the scenic hayride through the pumpkin fields.

The hay was fresh, golden and cozy.  The kids cuddled up to make room for everyone.  Cupcake and I ended up at the front of the wagon where we could see every bolt, gear and fleck of mud on the tractor.

Have I mentioned that it's been raining since, oh, 1492?

The tractor took off, its eight foot diameter wheels churning through the mud at the perimeter of fields filled with crackling weeds and rotting pumpkins.  We could see the tracks gouged in the glop by the enormous wheels, unless we were driving through standing water, in which case we saw waves and maybe even tides.  Thank goodness tractors can drive through anything without becoming mired.

The tractor became mired. 

The wheels spun, lurching the vehicle to one side.  The driver turned, gave us a grin that would have been toothy if he'd had any teeth, and announced that we were stuck and everyone would have to get out and walk.  After noting the horrified expressions on the faces of fifty city slickers wearing Uggs, he grinned, winked and started up the tractor with a gigantic lurch.

Remember?  Rain since the beginning of time?

Let me give you some valuable advice.

1. Don't wear nice clothes to the pumpkin farm.
2. Leave the nice shoes at home if you're going to the pumpkin farm.
3. Find a coat that's not white if you're visiting the pumpkin farm.
4. Don't sit in the front of the hay wagon on the pumpkin farm hayride.
5. If you're going to the pumpkin farm and you're riding a tractor and the tractor gets stuck in the mud and has to be lurched free, keep your mouth shut so that once the lurching is finished and you have mud on your coat and face, you don't also have a generous serving of mud in your mouth.
6. Bring lots of wet wipes to the pumpkin farm.

Fun Mom Points: well earned and well deserved.

What's your advice on traveling to the pumpkin farm?

If There Were A Prize For Sincerity She'd Be The Undisputed Winner: Comforting A Child Who Doesn't Win A Contest

Maybe someday I'll remember not to believe her when she swears that this time she positively won't care if she doesn't win.

Cupcake's school hosts a fall picnic with your run-of-the-mill hot doggage, face painting and canned food drive.  Part of the picnic tradition is the bake-off: kids compete with entries of cookies, cakes and brownies they've baked and decorated "themselves."  Five school administrators serve as judges and the entries are labeled with codes to maintain anonymity.  My favorite entry this year (aside from Cupcake's, naturally) were tiny burgers made from vanilla wafers sprinkled with sesame seeds and filled with brown stuff and green stuff and red and yellow stuff:

My favorite entry two years ago (aside from Cupcake's, naturally) was a poster that said: "My dog ate my cake," with a photo of the intact cake and a shot of the dog covered in icing.

The first year she entered, Cupcake (with my help) made orange poppy seed muffins.  They were delicious.  They didn't win.  Cupcake wept.

The second year she made yummy lemon bars.  They didn't win.  Cupcake rent her garment.

Last week Cupcake read Strudel Stories, a book about passing down oral histories, family traditions and recipes.  She decided to make apple strudel for this year's competition, using the recipe in the back of the book.  I told her how my grandmother, for whom she's named, used to make strudel that was famous, and suggested that strudel would be a sweet tribute.  So I peeled and sliced apples and she measured and mixed sugar and spices, and we spread out layers and layers of phyllo dough, and then I helped her roll it into a tight log.  While it was baking she prepared a label describing why she'd chosen to bake strudel.

The strudel didn't win.  Cupcake wailed in despair.

I don't want to give the impression my daughter is a loser.  Far from it; she's one of the most frighteningly bright and creative people I've ever known.  She writes her own blog, for heaven's sake, and this summer she made her way through and beyond her school's second semester fifth grade Greek mythology curriculum (and yes, she did just enter fourth grade).  Starting on Tuesday she'll be attending Greek school (more on that later) because... because she just really wants to learn to speak and read Greek.  So it's not that she's a dork.  She just happens to enter contests and then takes the results VERY seriously.  She just happens to wonder occasionally whether being athletic might be more desirable than being preposterously smart.  She just happens to be vulnerably sincere and earnest in everything she does, and to beat herself up if she doesn't come in first. 

I know that even the smartest people need to learn to deal with disappointment -- that almost nobody comes in first and best every time.  I know that the occasional failure or disappointment will benefit her in the long run, and believe me -- her failures are only occasional.

My sister says the judges want chocolatey and gooey.  I know she's right.  If I were judging that's exactly what would hold my attention.  But I hate to quell Cupcake's enthusiasm for preparing a recipe that she chose herself and to which she attached such a degree of sentiment.  I don't want to discourage her from trying something different.  Besides, even if she made a pile of chocolate chips held together with a paste made of cocoa and chocolate sauce, with chocolate sprinkles on top, there's no guarantee she'd win.

Can you remind me to skip the contest next year?

My Daughter Doesn't Get Called On In Class Very Often

No matter how smart, the less athletic kids sometimes seem invisible.

It's not that she doesn't know the answers; she almost always does.  It's because she knows the answers that she rarely gets to answer questions; I've told her many times that if her teachers called on her whenever she had her hand in the air nobody else would ever get to answer a question.

This treatment distresses Cupcake to the point of tears.  I try to help her understand that teachers call on other kids who need help more than she does, that her teachers and classmates know how smart she is, but she still moans about feeling ignored.

Add to this the fact that Cupcake comes from a notoriously unathletic family and therefore rarely gets recognition for her exploits on the field or the court, and you can imagine how frequently I'm left to console her and assure her that she actually does have loads of redeeming qualities, even if athleticism isn't on top of the list.

So when I finally (after two years of trying) convinced her school to participate in the Box Tops for Education program (they thought it was tacky; since when is free money tacky?) by installing an unobtrusive mailbox on a wall outside the school office, I asked Cupcake to create a sign to help draw attention to the collection spot.

She drew it, laminated it and signed it, and this afternoon she called me from school to report that the box has been installed and looks "awesome."

I figure if I'm organizing the program and the box needs a banner, I'm going to give my kid the glory of pointing out her handiwork to the entire school.

What's wrong with favoring your own child occasionally?

Robespierre Has A Job

Robey's school provides each student with a laptop to use through the academic year.  Every year the teachers and administrators get new laptops, and theirs from the previous year are passed on to the seniors, who pass theirs on to the juniors, all the way down to the sixth graders, whose laptops are held together with duct tape and bungee cords.

During the summer break the IT people (yes, the school has its own IT staff, but these days most schools probably do) run diagnostics on each laptop and load new software.  What with new computers coming in and old ones going out, 900 laptops will need to be assessed and prepared by the end of the summer.  The school offers internships, some paid but mostly volunteer, to any students who care to participate, and Robey applied.  Since his position is volunteer, he can come and go as he likes.  He'll be there every day this week, then we leave for a trip, and after we return he'll work another two weeks until leaving for a month of camp.

I'm proud of him for his motivation and willingness to work.  In addition to the experience and goodwill he'll accumulate, he'll have a tidy resume decoration, which never hurts.

No humor or witty conclusion today -- just pride for my guy.

Except: I forgot the meaning of "IT" and had to look it up.

Wordless Wednesday, With A Brief Explanation

Cupcake's class spent a month preparing for their Market Day.  They learned about businesses and economics, business plans and partnerships.  Each team was given a loan of up to $60, with which to purchase advertising and lease retail space in the third grade rooms.  They planned, manufactured, and priced their merchandise; everything had to be made from recycled materials.  There were bookmarks, banners, autograph books, jewelry, even miniature paper kites.

Last Wednesday the market was open.  Cupcake and her partner manufactured and sold out of cardboard flag keychains; just before closing time she managed to sell the strips of denim on which the merchandise had been pinned for display.

This sign caught my eye, posted on the booth across from Cupcake's:

 

Well, I say bravo for them!  Every store has to have rules, and this one makes way more sense than restricting bathroom use to employees.

Grammar Girl Gets The Language Arts Homework Done First

Cupcake brought home her getting-ready-for-4th-grade summer homework packet yesterday.  The school year ends next Friday.

The language arts section?  Finished, proofread and corrected.

The math packet?  Unsullied by human hands.

She's so much like me.

SOO Proud Of My Puppy: Dog Training And The End Of The School Year

After less than two weeks with us Little Miss has learned to sit down in front of me or the door to let me know she wants to go outside.  When I ask if she wants to go potty she wags her little piglet tail and then dances for the door.

She's still a little shy, which can certainly be forgiven for a tiny creature who spent the first six months of her life in a cage, but she's getting better.

In other news, the end of the school year is nigh, which means:

• Field Day this past Monday: the kids and I spent much of Mother's Day slicing 20 watermelons and piling them in huge buckets with ice
• Band Concert Tuesday night: Cupcake and I rushed to a craft store in between dropping Robey off and the start of the concert to pick up dolphin stickers for the...
• Animal Research Expo: Cupcake researched and wrote about the albino bottlenose dolphin
• Band Banquet and Sleepover: my choices are to pick up Robey between midnight and 1 am on Friday night, or by 6 am on Saturday.  Which would you choose?
• Author Rick Riordan's book tour visit to our public library to read from his latest book.  This event occurs contemporaneously with the previous event, at opposite ends of town.
• Girls On The Run: Cupcake is running with my sister because hello?  I don't run.
• Three baseball games in a row: Saturday morning, right after the band sleepover; Sunday after Girls on the Run; Monday evening after school
• Robespierre's 12th birthday.  My baby!  My baby's turning 12!
• Third Grade Market Day: Cupcake and her partner are manufacturing and selling cardboard keychains in exchange for 3rd grade scrip
• Third Grade End-of-Year Party: we're holding a car wash; the kids (dressed modestly, I pray) will be washing parent and faculty cars out in the parking lot and then sloshing popsickles.

And you were wondering why I've been out of touch?

Into A Nearby Telephone Booth: I'm A Hero Because I Heard Rick Riordan Is Coming To Town

They screamed.  They squealed.  Their eyes practically popped out of their heads.  They held each other's hands and jumped up and down.  Were there tears of joy and ecstasy?  Swooning?  Rending of garments?  Quite possibly.

What brought on this frenzied display of emotion?  Was school canceled for the rest of the semester?  Had the entire class won the lottery?  Was Paul McCartney dropping in for a private concert?

It was my announcement to the Cupcake's third grade class that Rick Riordan, author of The Lightning Thief and the rest of the Percy Jackson series, is coming to our public library on tour for his newest book (the last in the series).

For that brief moment I was a superhero.  Who knew it would take so little to impress them?

Run For The Hills -- It's Auction Time: School Fundraising

Did you forget where we were?  Refresh your memory:

Run For Cover -- It's Auction Time and Auction Time, Part 2.

If we/I wanted to use the site then we'd have to find a way to incorporate photos of the kids or artwork by them into the item. Not only that, it should be large enough and impressive enough to justify the expenditure of many dollars to enrich my bank account the school scholarship fund. Photo mugs? Tote bags? Photo personalized puzzles? 

No -- way too small to incorporate photos or artwork pertaining to 48 kids. Although we could have produced 48 personalized puzzles, that would have defeated the purpose of offering a unique auction item.

Auction Time, Part 2

How to create a simple yet impressive class art project for sale at the school's fund raising auction?

As I mentioned last week, it's school auction time again, and I'm forced privileged to be involved, thanks to my  roommotherhood.  One of our jobs as room parents is to orchestrate a group project to be offered for sale by the third grade to unsuspecting enthusiastic parents.  Our main criteria are as follows:

1. Item must be easy to produce
2. Item must have the potential for bringing in lots of money
3. Item ideally (in my opinion) should originate at FeeFiFoto, my personalized gift web site, because hey -- let's spread some of that wealth around, shall we?

Run For Cover -- It's Auction Time: School Fundraising

School auctions sure are annoying exciting, aren't they?

Raise your hand if your kids' school conducts fund raisers.

Say Aye if your kids you sell any or all of the following: pizzas, candy, coupon books, cookies, donuts, bagels, BLTs, gift wrap, raffle tickets, candles, cookies, nuclear armaments or personalized clothing.

Clap your hands if your school engages in walkathons, phonathons, bikathons, book fairs or craft shows.

Now, stand up if you enjoy any of these activities.

I thought so.

Our school's main fund raiser, aside from the persistent polite reminders to pledge to the annual giving campaign, is a biannual auction, where we raise XX dollars to benefit the blah blah fund (do you think I actually pay attention to these things?)

It's Always Appropriate To Say Thank You To A Teacher

Do you give teacher gifts at Christmas time?

My parents taught me the importance of expressing gratitude.  The Man From D.A.D. conducts himself graciously with everyone he meets.  He ran a large manufacturing company for more than 40 years, yet never felt too important to recognize anyone who made his day a little easier; he once stopped to compliment a maintenance man changing light bulbs for "making our lives a little brighter," (yes, corny). Considering how selective my dad's memory can be for names (but still not as porous as mine), I'm fairly certain he didn't recall the man's name, but that didn't stop him from offering praise and thanks.

My mother, Schpilkes, has been a non-professional fundraiser for a long time; her network of nearest and dearest friends and associates numbers well into the hundreds.  She sends a thank you note to everyone who invites her to a wedding, party, bar or bat mitzvah, luncheon, rubber-chicken dinner or official gala.  She knows how hard people work planning events, and she makes sure to acknowledge their efforts and thank them for including her and my father.

Amy at Chicago Moms Blog says:

"Now that Halloween is a pounding, sugar-headache memory, it’s time to start thinking about the other holidays... No matter what you celebrate or how you celebrate it, there’s a gift or two involved, right? ... There will be giving and hugging and “oh you shouldn’t haves.”...

I was a preschool assistant teacher for a few years... [L]ast year, the holidays came around and I got one gift. One. I didn’t teach for the gifts but I didn’t get cards or thank you’s. Honestly, I don't think anyone uttered a Happy Holiday sentiment. So, no apple mug, no chalkboard appliqued tote bag. OK, I coped. I got one gift card for which I was very grateful. It was more of the sign that no one was really appreciative of the time and effort and love I had for their child when I was with them. And according to feedback and reviews -- I was doing a good job..."

I'm Verklempt

Love letter from my daughter

This is what I found in Cleo's locker Tuesday night during the school Open House:

"Dear Mom,

    I don't know about you, but so far I like third grade.  A lot.  Everything is great.  Don't you think?  I am very excited to learn new things.  The only sad part is, I miss my teachers from 2nd grade.  Am I going to let a bump in the road get me down?  No.  Why? Because we are already learning and having fun.  I have a feeling an awesome year is coming.  Can't you feel it?

                Your best and only daughter ever,

                Cleo."

Where did this kid come from?

Visit Cleopatra-Queen-Of-The-Nile at her blog, The Big Hannah Montana Fan.

Should I Be Crying?

Remember to enter FeeFiFoto's Fall Fame Contest. The winner's name will be drawn on September 15. Good luck!

Robespierre started middle school today.  When he graduated from preschool I cried for one straight week.  I'd see myself in the mirror and sob pathetically as I hummed the goodbye song he and his classmates had sung.

But today I'm not crying.  I'm rejoicing, but not for reasons you might think.

I'm rejoicing because:

• I'm thrilled that my son is at a new school with a whole new set of teachers and classmates.  It's not that I didn't love his previous school (his sister's still going there, after all), but he feels and acts grown up in an environment where he attends assemblies, band practices, lunch and school events with older kids.
• I'm delirious at the change in him since he came home from camp and started preparing to transition to a new environment.  He's been relaxed, serene, thoughtful, cooperative and sensible.  We've had none of the usual arguments about wardrobe, school supplies, the cost of sneakers; we've discussed and addressed each issue rationally and maturely.
• I'm excited that next year, when the large influx of 7th graders occurs, Robespierre will already be a member of the middle school community, able to mentor new students and say things like: "This is how WE do things here."

It's true I'm not allowed to kiss or hug him within vision or hearing of any person older than 8.  It's true he'll now be making way more of his own decisions and plans. It's true I'm not allowed to walk him into school.  Yes, these are things to cry about.

But I'm not crying.

Yet.

Let's Get Ready For Christmas Early

Now that we have all the back to school shopping done and the little darlings are on their way to the bus -- wait, you haven't finished your back to school shopping yet?  What are you waiting for?  Run like a bunny and get on it, and then come back here when it's all done.

**musical interlude: "Come and listen to a story 'bout a man named Jed / A poor mountaineer, barely kept his family fed ..."

All done?  Good.  First things first, I always say.