Thursday, May 26, 2011
Last Day of School!
Ever since Finding Nemo, I can't say the above words without saying them loudly and in a great hurried rush. The great effect of animated film.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Montessori Campout
We went camping overnight (happily in cabins) with Q and Eliza's school (unhappily, we had to share cabins and thus more people are now aware of my snoring problem).
We had a lot of fun. We ate a lot of food that would soo not have been okay had this been a pre-Easter event (And may I say that the camp's oatmeal chocolate chip cookies were so good, I think they were laced with crack. Seriously. I kept waiting for them to set them out at another meal so I could be the fat lady walking out of the eating lodge with two dozen cookies in her pockets because I would have been completely OK with that moniker.) We played miniature golf (rural Alaskan style - small cement pads with large rocks as obstacles), shot BB guns, arrows, played air hockey and walked. And walked.
I felt like a pioneer child.
But the best moments were with my son in the middle of the night. There were a total of 15 people in our cabin, only 2 of which belonged with me. Two of those other 12 had been traveling all night prior to the campout and had thus been awake from 1am until 9pm and were ex.haus.ted. I was hyper aware of the need for my children to be quiet. So imagine my joy when, in the middle of the night, I hear, "ELIZA! GET OUT OF MY BED! EL! I! ZA! GET OUT OF MY BED!" in a piercing whispered voice. Q had sleep walked (?) or something and ended up in the bunk next to his where a little girl (about 5yo and NOT his sister) was sleeping. In his sleep filled delusion, he thought she was Eliza and that she was on her bed.
I managed, after a bit of arguing, to convince him that his bed was the next one over. He finally allowed me to move him and we all settled back down for sleep.
Sort-of.
From behind my eyelids I saw a light flash on and swing around and shut off.
"He's just getting settled," I thought.
It happened again.
And again.
"Q! What are you doing?" I stage whispered.
"I'm afraid of spiders."
"Do you want to come sleep with me?"
He was in my bunk quicker than you can say, "Bob's your uncle," and my back ended up crammed up against the wall for the worst night of sleep I can remember.
The ironic thing is that while we found no spiders on his bunk, when we were putting our sleeping bags away, we DID find one on mine.
I suppose it just matters what one thinks at 1am and not in the light of day.
We had a lot of fun. We ate a lot of food that would soo not have been okay had this been a pre-Easter event (And may I say that the camp's oatmeal chocolate chip cookies were so good, I think they were laced with crack. Seriously. I kept waiting for them to set them out at another meal so I could be the fat lady walking out of the eating lodge with two dozen cookies in her pockets because I would have been completely OK with that moniker.) We played miniature golf (rural Alaskan style - small cement pads with large rocks as obstacles), shot BB guns, arrows, played air hockey and walked. And walked.
I felt like a pioneer child.
But the best moments were with my son in the middle of the night. There were a total of 15 people in our cabin, only 2 of which belonged with me. Two of those other 12 had been traveling all night prior to the campout and had thus been awake from 1am until 9pm and were ex.haus.ted. I was hyper aware of the need for my children to be quiet. So imagine my joy when, in the middle of the night, I hear, "ELIZA! GET OUT OF MY BED! EL! I! ZA! GET OUT OF MY BED!" in a piercing whispered voice. Q had sleep walked (?) or something and ended up in the bunk next to his where a little girl (about 5yo and NOT his sister) was sleeping. In his sleep filled delusion, he thought she was Eliza and that she was on her bed.
I managed, after a bit of arguing, to convince him that his bed was the next one over. He finally allowed me to move him and we all settled back down for sleep.
Sort-of.
From behind my eyelids I saw a light flash on and swing around and shut off.
"He's just getting settled," I thought.
It happened again.
And again.
"Q! What are you doing?" I stage whispered.
"I'm afraid of spiders."
"Do you want to come sleep with me?"
He was in my bunk quicker than you can say, "Bob's your uncle," and my back ended up crammed up against the wall for the worst night of sleep I can remember.
The ironic thing is that while we found no spiders on his bunk, when we were putting our sleeping bags away, we DID find one on mine.
I suppose it just matters what one thinks at 1am and not in the light of day.
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