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.