Tick Tock

Today was the last day of summer camp. It felt a lot like preschool -- same building, same friends, same teachers lurking the halls, and Harry adored it, taking pains to correct me for the last four weeks when I deigned call it "preschool." "It's camp mommy, don't be silly." Sorry, sorry.

It's one of those wacky milestones, truly meaningless, but when his teachers told me what a "great camper" Harry was, how he so clearly loved books and maybe would one day be a writer (they have no inkling what I do for a living), it just about made my heart grow three sizes.

So as I trolled the aisles of Target for a few items we'll need for our upcoming trip to Atlanta, I got Harry a little gift to celebrate his good deeds: a Kids Timex. Totally goofy: he's still just getting a grip on his numbers. But it's glow-in the-dark and has geckos on the dial that turn with the seconds...mom thinks it might help him with his 1-2-3's....and frankly just made her smile.

For his part Harry is very proud and has been shouting throughout the house "It's 9 O'clock!" And all's well.

Master and Commander...of the Loo

It was preordained. I told Paul, as we sat cramped on kiddie chairs in the guest bathroom, hoping for our son to be ever victorious, that it would be our clever baby girl who mastered the act first.

While I have not been proven right (yet), Charlotte is on track to more than lap her brother. For the last week, my 20-month-old daughter has been signaling the need to go by physically pushing me (hands on my rear) into the bathroom with the urgent words "pee pee!"

Then she takes the potty insert and puts it on top of the toilet and starts to yank off her shorts. Up on the potty she instructs me: "read!" So far no action, but she is eeeeeager. She even wipes! I don't think this process will take as long as the Bataan death march that is Harry's progress...but I've been wrong before. Go Team Charlotte!

Pistols at Dawn

For his birthday Harry received a set of squirt guns from his friend Bailey. We saved them for summer and indeed, they have provided very popular -- particularly when it comes to squirting mom, Roxana and the dog.

Depicted here -- the blow-up pool standoff: Harry has drawn a bead on Charlotte who is performing ritual seppuku (that's Hara-kiri to those of you who never read "Shogun.")

Final Exam

Harry had his last swim class yesterday, capping off his first-ever set of formal lessons. He has come to really love his teacher, Johannes, who he trusts without question, even when he's dunking Harry under.

He has had a wonderful time in the pool, mostly splashing his feet and communing with his new friend Cora, an adorable little brunette about the same age, one of a bevy of sweet little mermaids.

Enter Talking

As I child I delighted in trying to stuff my grandmother Theresa's enormous meatballs (that's "meat-ah-balls" to fellow Italians) into my mouth -- whole. I think my children have inherited this same skill set. Note to self: make meatballs, conduct experiment.

Grandparents On Deck

Zaza and Paba stepped up to the Alexandria plate for us this week, so that Paul and I could take a few day together. While we were gone the kids were treated to several trips to the pool and Toy Story 3, Harry's first movie theater experience! It's no small feat taking care of two little kids. Our hats off to them with much love and gratitude.

Pretty in "Strawberry"

Mom was a little tardy on the spring sweater. It landed just in time for the summer swelter. But it's cute nonetheless. Perhaps we'll take Charlotte for a quickie trip to Alaska so that she can wear it out before she outgrows it. I'm pretty sure she'll get some mileage out of it in the fall. Next up, Harry's winter sweater featuring a bulldozer. Should take FORever. If I start now I have a shot.

Ms. Lilly

It was haircut time again so off we went Sunday after naps to see Ms. Lilly over at Van's. She's a bit heavy with the shears (take off one inch invariable means she goes for broke) but she's also heavy with the lollipops, so hey, whatever works. It think my daughter looks a wee bit like George Washington following her cut.

No, I don't plan to post EVERY time the kids get a snip, but this WAS Charlotte's first blow dry. And well, for a girl I think that deserves note! While I do hope my daughter winds up with my thick hair (blessing or curse I do not yet know), I can tell you, without exaggeration, that it takes me no less than an hour to tame my hair with a drier. To this day I'm surprised the stylists don't hang up on me when I call to book an appointment.

Taking the Plunge

Summer is officially here for the Smith Barnes family, who took their first trip(s) this weekend to the Little Hunting Park Pool, our new swim club. Harry, who is learning to swim in earnest, got lots of time in to practice his jumping, kicking (and splashing) techniques in the adult pool, while Charlotte spent much time in the baby pool with lots of naked Barbie Dolls (or as Paul calls them "Euro Barbies.")

It's a neat little club that reminds both Paul and I of the clubs we grew up going to (if perhaps not as really formal). But there are two nice pools for the kids, a shaded playground and a snack bar that offers hamburgers and hot dogs that I swear evoke exactly the same memories of my days splashing at the Belvedere Tennis Club.

Harry could be a fine swimmer one day but not until he gets over the discomfort of water in his eyes (not a fan of it in the bathtub either). We're trying to coax him to put on some goggles but so far no luck (he complains they're too tight, but goggles are tight kid). I'm hoping my swimmer friends will have some thoughts. Janney? Aunty Jessica?

If It's Monday This Must Be Boston....

Our dear friends, the Stewart's, left DC for parts north (Phily, NY and Boston) before returning tomorrow to their home in California. I think they had a great trip, even after the Metro tried to eat Ryan. Yes, the Stewart clan arrived at our home after Day 2 of sightseeing with quite the story to share.

Seems some of the Metro drivers don't check whether everyone is aboard (or even close) before slamming shut the doors. Rod and Ryan, 8, were the first to board (holding hands) when the doors closed on Rod's wrist, trapping Ryan inside the car (no they weren't running for the car or trying to squeeze in, the driver just decided to leave the station). Rod, a fireman, had to use his foot to pry open the doors far enough to extract his hand before the train took off. FORTUNATELY, some very kind strangers signaled that they would return Ryan (who was at this point crying for his mom) back to the same platform after an unscheduled one-stop trip. So our hero parents didn't have to panic too much, but I tell ya, a real cautionary tale for those of us who travel the rails regularly with very small kids. Sometimes even holding hands isn't enough with those boneheads at the switch. Shiver.

I managed to tag along on a little of the sightseeing (did you know they have a National Treasure tour at Mount Vernon?) with the sweaty band before they left for Phily. Harry was sad to see 16-year-old Katie go. But when asked who he now misses most, he say it's Katie's mom Michelle. I'm giving him points for refined taste.

Come back soon guys. We miss you already.

Our Little Amphibian

Photo are prohibited, but we snuck this one today. Shhhhhh.

BFFs

We're having a fabulous visit with my oldest and dearest friend Michelle (we met in the third grade) and her family, who I finally convinced -- after 17 years -- to travel to DC from their home in Petaluma, Calif. (I've visited with them many, many times since I moved from NoCal to Virginia, but getting them on a plane took years of hammering). Is it me?

But it took no time before Harry got sweet on their 16 (!!) year-old daughter Katie. He asks after her all day long. Where is she? Is she getting dressed? Can she play with me? While brother Ryan, 8, is an awesome trains playmate, he apparently doesn't hold a candle to Katie. Last night Harry asked "Is Katie coming to dinner?" Yes, I explained. They he hooked his thumb in Ryan's direction and asked "What about this kid?"

Ryan, on the other hand, is the clear source of Charlotte's affection. He fetches her dollies and takes her hand to help her down the stairs. Such a gentleman! He even shared his prized Nationals batter's hat with her.

We will be SO sorry to see them go on Thursday.

Happy Birthday Daddy

Paul celebrated his birthday Sunday with a yummy at-home BBQ with friends. Harry was so excited about the cake he didn't feel like singing, but he did tear himself away from his fork long enough to help blow out the candles.

Earlier in the day we spent some time in DC with very old friends visiting from California and stopped at the Sculpture Garden to dip our toes in the fountain.

Stepping Out

Baby Charlotte has three obsessions: balls, purses and shoes. This afternoon she zeroed-in on a scuffed up pair of leather walkers in her closet. They were mine. I never put them on Harry because his super-pudgy feet would never have gotten a toe in. But Charlotte's petite tappers were just right. She's right now parading around the house in my shoes. I'm in heaven.

Harry Joins the 'Frogs'

Despite ample assurances from my friends Lisa and Janney, who, during their pre-motherhood days, taught many many kids to swim, I was nervous about Harry's first swim lesson. No mommy holding his hand. Just a big pool and a half dozen kids and an instructor. I had visions of him running around the pool deck, defying Johannes, the teacher, then diving into the deep end, only to be rescued by the lifeguard.

So mom worries.

Harry and his new friend Cora were easily the youngest, in the class with some very mature 4 and 5-year-olds. But it was a really good experience for him. He behaved, he listened (a little, best I could tell from my perch behind glass at the Chinquapin Rec Center) and he kicked his feet on command.

In truth, I was one of six parents watching breathlessly to see how their darling would fare. It took about 15 minutes for me to understand the benefit of private or semi-private lessons. The kids spent most of the clinic yesterday sitting on the side of the pool as the instructor worked one-on-one for a few fleeting minutes with each kid. How Harry contained himself with a pool calling is beyond me.

He is excited about his next lesson. "I'm going to be a good boy, mommy" he assured me. The bigger question is whether mommy will leave again with sweaty armpits. Probably.