among other things

Tuck is good at astonishment.

laughing (most of) the way

Hank keeps a pretend green plastic camera in the stroller, where he spends large chunks of time every day - taking the neighborhood kids to school, running to an audition with me, dropping things off at the post office. If we can walk, we do. And if he can photograph something, he does.

Today we walked past a funeral home, and he wanted pictures of the triangle stained glass. Last week it was a metal dinosaur sculpture in someone's yard.

After pictures, he explained that Celia's body burned to ashes there (not quite accurate) and then asked when she would come out of mine heart (where we talk about her "living") to visit him again.

A few other things about Hank, before I forget:

At almost every meal he unfolds his napkin, four quarters into one large square, and puts his plate on top, calling it a place napkin.
And then he invariably asks whether I'm going to wash his shirt, right before he wipes his mouth on his sleeve.

This morning we were in the basement together for a few minutes, where the television is, and he wondered Are you watching the rain forrest?
It was the weather forecast.

On the couch, he looked out through the side window and declared It’s a winter day again! I’m going to have to blanket myself up! 

He's in the habit, when his nap is over, to ask What color are mine eyes? I always say Your eyes are brown, like mine and daddy's. Yesterday he said Yes, but I have green hair, like the trees!

He still calls bananas boo annas, and can hardly say I love you mom, without following it up with you’re fabulous. {this is, for obvious reasons, MY FAVORITE}

He took a break from making muffins for new neighbors this afternoon, and held the bear made from Celia's holiday jammies. He calls it Celia Bear.

Walking to pick up Tolliver from school this afternoon, he sang Jingle Bells at the top of his lungs approximately sixteen times in a row.

Oh what fun it is to listen to him!

weekending

We had a full weekend, wrapping up birthday festivities and celebrating a Buckeye victory and beginning to make it look like Christmas at our house. 

The boys played laser tag and went to the movie theater, visited grandparents and enjoyed a football party with friends, participated in a nativity pageant at church and admired lego creations at the museum, took a train ride and biked to get haircuts before bedtime.  

Everyone went to sleep tired and happy tonight.

lucky number seven

Tollie celebrated turning seven with a few friends at the Motts Military museum. The boys admired weapons and uniforms and tanks and had an epic nerf gun battle before dinner at Bob Evans. 

Throughout the week he has received cards and Lego bombers, had dinner at his favorite Mexican restaurant, shared pumpkin cheesecake with Aunt Kate and got the cinnamon rolls he requested in addition to two surprise donut deliveries! He's been playing with giant helium balloons and poring over new military history books, and he's still looking forward to more celebrations this weekend. He's a lucky, well-loved kid.

Once I was seven years old

Dear Tolliver,

Seven years ago the decision to have another baby was fairly easy, less if and more when. Your timing was actually perfect. You arrived the week of Thanksgiving, with legs that came in fat segments like dinner rolls. Despite the fact that you turned a full night's sleep into a particular fable at our house, you filled our hearts and our home with immense joy and we could not have been more happy to have you with us.
We still are.

You grew into a toddler with charitable cheeks and twin bungee ropes of drool dripping from each corner of your mouth, along with lots of words and plenty of solid opinions.

Since then time galloped and your wardrobe game grew and we mostly gracefully crossed a million childhood thresholds. Suddenly you are turning seven. Still with all the words and strong opinions, still with unwavering fashion preferences, and so many other good things.

You are inquisitive and brave, equal parts cotton candy and red meat.
I love when you crank up your small voice, having thought about what you want to say, to add to the conversation.
You are enthusiastic and super fast and so handsome. Your freckles are my very favorite.
You've memorized Jingle Bells on the piano, and are becoming quite the performer.
You are Hank's favorite playmate, turning empty laundry baskets into turtle games or jail cells. You are fierce and soft-shelled, both. You are busting out of boxes and blazing your own trail.
You are super into military history, devouring books about tanks and weapons and battles.
Your handwriting is the best in the house, by far. Your attention to detail, to where the flower vases go and to what time we need to leave and to which pants look nice with which shirt and to whether there's enough milk left for everyone to have cereal, is astounding.

We're learning about boredom together, feeling it and figuring out what to do next.
And self-regulation. Managing emotions can be tough business, but it's important to treat others, and ourselves, with respect.
We're learning about courage, too. Sometimes the shadows cast by the thing we’re afraid of are larger and more frightening than the thing itself.
I'm learning about lots of things with you, actually.
It startles me sometimes, how different we are. I've been thinking about how even the people I love the most can sometimes seem so mysterious. I'm figuring out how to love you all the more across the mystery, across silence and strong words, across quarrels and compromises. Maybe this is the truest love of all, the one unbound by such constraints.
I'm doing my very best to bridge who I am and who you are (quickly) becoming, because I love you so much.

I've been up bright and early with you for seven years now. I'll bake cinnamon rolls tomorrow, at your request, and together we'll watch the sun rise to light the tallest pine candles outside our kitchen window.
And I'll be watching you, hoping your biggest wishes come true this year and forever, Tolliver.

Love,
Mom

how firm thy

One of the things our boys love best about football season is hanging at their favorite tailgate spot. We all look forward to seeing folks there every fall. This year one of the younger fans started calling it tolliegate, because the boys bring diggers and dozers and small plastic football figurines to play with together, between climbing trees and scootering in circles and shoving fistfuls of junk food in their mouths. And really, it does seem to be as much about friendships as it is about football.

Thanksgiving today

and tomorrow too, because gratitude is an active practice and an inside job.