Paul has been wonderfully supportive of the final stages of birth on our most recent baby. Beyond the help with meals and laundry and cleaning (because did I mention I’m teaching and doing research interviews and presenting at conferences and oh, running a nonprofit, too?) he has also been taking the kids on outings over the weekends, leaving me long 12 hour days to work uninterrupted.
On Sunday, he took the kids to the Global Wildlife Center in Folsom. He also took these pictures of them.
Hearts? Get ready for a beating.
Today was Fete Francaise, the yearly French Block Party that serves as the major fundraising event for scholarships for our kids’ school. Each year, all the kids perform at Fete.
Remember how the last time Will performed at school, he exceeded his previous stage-related penchants of yawning and nose-picking in favor of giving out wet-willies to other kids? Right. Well.
I’ll show you how it went. Let me set the stage, so to speak.
There’s a lot of people there.
And the kids are all lined up on stage with parents crowded in as close as possible.
Cameras are everywhere. All kinds of Serious. Cameras.
And it’s Fete, the most important day of the year for the school, so folks are really into it.
The kids are lined up on stage, ready to sing all sorts of deep philosophical things about Sartre and Voltaire. All in French, of course, which is important because, as Fancy Nancy says, “everything in French sounds Fancy.”
Wait. Except. What? That kid on the end?
Right, that one.
Yes, that’s the same one. Good. I’m glad he can be seen from all sides, then. Just so everyone can experience it. Who is he, anyway?
Oh, WILL. Good thing he has that notebook so clearly marked. Just so EVERYONE can know EXACTLY who he is. No question, then.
Okay. So, what’s that kid, Will… what is he DOING?
What is he doing indeed.
NINJA TRAINING. (Or so we’re told.) As demonstrated by Will, age 6.
Hail the holiday school party!
Girl child remained preciously cute and worked the tables for multiple brownies. Papa Noel brought her a little snow globe, which is protectively located three inches from her face, lest it become stolen in the night.
Boy child remained the kid on stage who, while 20 others stand calmly and sing, proceeds to pick his nose, scratch himself, swing around, randomly throw in extra-loud lines of song, and even — oh yes, even this — lick his finger and stick it into the ear of his friend beside him.
I suspected tar and feathering were in the works, and though I did take pause for a moment, decided a getaway was better. We snuck quietly out the backdoor, where a friend picked us up for the escape.
Will: “Daddy, how did you learn to drive?”
Paul: “I took classes and practiced. When you’re 15, we’ll help you practice so that you can learn to drive.”
W: “I don’t think I want to drive until I am…. 20.”
P: “That sounds good to us.”
W: “Yeah, driving is sort of scary.”
Kate: “Yeah, I don’t want to drive until I am 64.”
W: “64?! That’s SO OLD. That’s, like, how old you are when you go to COLLEGE.”
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