Temple Celebration

We Mormons in our little town of Gilbert have been pretty excited for the past few years for our new temple that was being built.  It's been so awesome to watch it being built right before our very eyes.

And so, when the temple was nearly done, we as Mormons couldn't pass up the opportunity to celebrate.  With Song and Dance. Cause that's what we do. (Not me, though.  I don't sing or dance.)

Our kids were excited to participate, we knew something big was being planned, and it would take up several weeks worth of activity nights to prepare.

And then Nick got invited to audition to be in a special choir.  Only 10 kids from our whole stake were asked to audition.  We were floored and humbled and grateful and shocked that he was asked.  But he took it seriously, and he practiced and practiced and sent in an audition tape.  I encouraged him to dress up and wear a bow tie because he seems to have a little more confidence when he's got a bow tie on.

And then he made it!  One of two kids out of our whole stake.  There were something like 26 stakes involved, and supposedly only 100 kids were supposed to be in this choir, representing some 12000 kids.  (Or something like that.  The numbers would change with every person I'd talk to, and this actually happened a few months ago, and the details are blurring, which is why blogging regularly is important if you want to remember stuff and be accurate with details and stuff.)

And I kinda think that was a turning point for Nick.  For years and years he didn't think he could sing. (although he has always been musical and is always whistling or humming or singing something.  Always.)
 
Anyway, first he gets in concert choir, which could have been dismissed with a "they must have been desperate for guys" and then now this, and I think it was a bit of a confidence builder because they had plenty of talented kids to choose from, and they chose him (along with 99 or so others, but still...)

So he sang.  He spent several days rehearsing and practicing and recording.  That was the music all the rest of the kids listened to when they would learn the songs later on.  And that was the music that was heard on the television broadcast of the celebration .

Then the rest of the kids learned the songs and the dances and they practiced and practiced.

I may or may not have borrowed this picture from facebook.

Finally the big day came, and so did the thunder clouds.  The skies were darkened, and I am sure we all prayed for some sort of miracle.

This one too.

It seemed as though we would have our miracle as the storm was kept at bay all day.  The sky over the whole valley was dark and threatening with the one exception of the area just above the temple and the park next to it where the kids gathered all day long.  

And then it was time for the big event, and just minutes before they were to start, the heavens opened up, and boy did it rain.  We watched on TV as all those kids, literally thousands of kids from all over the valley got drenched.  And still they danced and sang.

And although I prayed for a miracle that the storm would pass us by, I am so grateful it didn't.  (Easy for me to say, as I was able to watch from the comfort of my dry home) But for starters, this is a desert.  We ALWAYS NEED rain.   Secondly, I'm glad my kids got that little reminder that they can do hard things.  That a little bit of rain wasn't going to stop them.  And lastly,  they are never gonna forget the day they danced and sang (with genuine smiles on their faces) in the rain, in front of the prophet.  What an experience. 

Frozen

Here's the thing, I know I'm months behind, and there's this little part of me that whispers in my ear "Just quit, you know you want to..."  But I probably won't, and as overwhelming as it is to think about trying to catch up is, talking about how far behind I am bores the heck out of me, second verse, same as the first... so I'll just try and slog through, and hit the highlights, and even some of the more mundane things, because those are the sort of things that I like to read about years later, even if typing it right now feels a little awkward... For instance this-

So there's this movie that came out, you mighta heard about it unless you live under a rock, Frozen, and even then I don't know how you'd escape the music...♪♫ "Let it go, let it goooooo...."♫♪

I know, we're kinda getting sick of it aren't we?  Even Maddie, my only little girl and the one to pick a different Disney Princess to be for every Halloween said to me the other day,  "Can you come pick me up early from school on Wednesday?  We're just gonna watch Frozen.  I really don't think I can handle watching that one more time. 

Everyone except Christopher.

Once upon a time I couldn't even take him to the movies.  He'd be done after 10 minutes.   There is a kiddie daycare area at our local movie theater, and I felt about 5 minutes of guilt for using the "Special Needs" card to drop him off when he was still in diapers and they had rules against it, but the guilt was over by the time the previews started.

And then one day we threw caution to the wind and decided to go see that new Disney movie everyone was talking about.  As a family.  All of us.  Christopher loved every minute of it.  We had a countdown on our calendar of how many days until it came out on DVD.   

He still watches it at least a couple times a week and belts out the songs at the top of his lungs.  (no one else is allowed to sing along)

And apparently, according to another mother, Christopher does quite the duet with his little first grade girlfriend at lunch recess pretty regularly.  He even performed for the principal.  

He's now begging for us to take him to Disneyland because he wants to meet Anna and Elsa.  I even admit to seeing if there is some kind of 'meet and greet' for Anna and Elsa at Disney Paris, but there's not.  (We have no plans to go to either Disneyland, or Disney Paris any time soon, but oddly the Disney Paris option is more feasible at this point)

His birthday is coming up in a couple weeks.  He has very distinct ideas about what he wants for a cake.  A real cake, not cupcakes.  Vanilla, not chocolate.  With a Frozen theme.  Not Hot wheels, or Mine Craft, or Legos, or any of that nonsense.  Frozen.  And sadly, Olaf didn't make the cut either.  Just Elsa.  And maybe Anna.  The "different Elsa".  I don't know what that means.  I'm just going to take him to the grocery store and have him pick out a store bought cake from their little cake book and call it good.   

So, yes, my 8 year old little boy will have a princess cake for his birthday.  I'm cool with it though.  I think there's something awesome about knowing what you want in life and going for it, and not caring one iota about what someone else might think. 

And as a funny side note, Nick came home from school shortly after the movie came out in theaters and told me most people said the exact same thing to him-  "I figured out what Disney character you are!!"  And Nick would reply, "Christophe?"

and then they'd look at him all confused, and then say, "No, Olaf!!!"

And then I'd say,  "Ouch,  I'm sorry.  In the movie of your life, you're not the romantic lead, you're the comic relief."   And then he responded with an "I KNOW, Right?!?!?"

He owned it though.  At Disneyland with the HS choir & orchestra he Disney bounded (subtly dressing up as a character without really dressing up like them) as Olaf. 

See it?

(and thank heavens he's not really concerning himself with being anybody's Prince Charming.


  There's plenty of time for that later!!)

Travel planning

So what am I up to these days you ask?  Well, I'll tell you.  I spend most of my free time, (which of course as a mom just means "time that I SHOULD be doing something else like washing the dishes or going to the grocery store or fixing dinner but instead I am neglecting house and home") doing a little travel planning.

We're going to Europe in a few short weeks.  It's the trip of a lifetime, really.  We're so excited.  We're taking the kids, so that will be a new adventure.

We sorta figure it's probably now or never, and we've been saving up for this for several years now.  So we're trying to make the most of it.  Cause really, Nick will be a senior in high school next year, and this could be our last opportunity before kids start growing up, and moving out, and going on missions, and off to college, and getting married, and I may sound crazy and alarmist, but I see it happening all around me...

But there's so much to think about.

I'm not complaining, really.  I'm just explaining what is consuming most of my thoughts and attentions these days.

Travel guides, and websites, and videos and maps and notebooks...

Lodging, transportation, activities... How do we make the most out of every precious minute and dollar (or Euro...)    The first time John and I went to Europe, we had no idea what to do, so we pretty much just drove around.  For reals.  Despite doing some research, (this was my pre-devotion to Rick Steves' era) it was still just all too much, and we just kinda winged it, which can be fun, but I sorta think we'd probably make different choices if we had it to do over.

And then throw four very different kids, including Christopher, into the mix, and I find I need to plan everything down to the minute, and yet, be as flexible as possible.  We've already started bribing Christopher.  "You be good and we'll get you ice-cream.... Don't touch the pictures (in the museums) and we will buy you ice-cream...No screaming or crying and you can have ice-cream..."  I have a feeling there will be lots and lots of ice-cream.

And then there's the other questions- Which things are worth going out of the way for?  Like Stonehenge?  I hear it's not convenient to get to.  Is that worth the better part of a day to look at really old rocks?  And how many Cathedrals is too many?  How many museums and old castles before Christopher falls apart? What's the bestest/fastest/cheapest/most memorable-est way from point A to point B? Car? Plane? Train?

And how much time do we want to stay in each place?  What's the right balance between fitting it all in, and really delving into a place and soaking in all it has to offer?  (Like my first trip to London where we were so pressed for time we took a bus tour of the city, and while I have several lousy pictures of stuff taken from a moving vehicle, I really feel like I actually saw nothing at all...)

And where do we stay?  There's not tons of Marriotts over there, and very, very few of them are Residence Inns. (we like those because they are the most family friendly) In fact, the very nice Marriott in Paris only allows 2 people per room. That's three rooms.  Which means we will be using up those points at least three times as fast.  And it probably means that Christopher and I will be sharing one room, and John will be with one of the other kids, and that's definitely not ideal. 

And by European standards our little family of six is freakishly huge and practically unheard of, so that can complicate matters...

So we found a couple reasonably priced, fairly central apartments after days and days of scouring websites and reading reviews and studying maps...  "Sure, the price is right, and it's a pretty big place, but it's right smack dab in the middle of the red light district...." Or, "It's only a 45 minute train ride outside of the city....." Or, "That apartment is pretty much perfect for us, except it's a little pricey and we wouldn't be able to afford to eat, or do anything, or go anywhere at all that week..."

And then there's the matter of John working during part of the trip, so certain parts of the trip will be very inflexible.  Like, we HAVE to be in London on certain days, but the upside to that is that work will pay for lodging on the days John works, and attractive as that thought is, we would also like to actually spend time with John on our FAMILY vacation. So, you know, we need to figure out a good balance there.

And then of course I'm trying to include the kids in all of this.  Trying to get their input, discussing options, watching travel videos, looking at pictures.   We even have the occasional foreign language lesson around here, and since I'm no linguist, it's probably a case of the blind leading the blind... Sometimes they are into it, sometimes not so much.  I'm trying to have them feel some ownership in this whole thing, but I get the feeling they are content to just come along for the ride.  Kids.  What are you gonna do?   (To be fair, they have made some requests- The Eiffel Tower, the Doctor Who Experience, Platform 9 3/4, 221b Baker Street, the Alps, Castles, the Berlin wall, and lots of good food.)

And I think I am driving John absolutely batty at times.  Work is a huge stress right now for him, and he comes home on the weekends all tired worn out and all I want to do is discuss travel plans.  I do tons of research, but he's the travel expert, and I really need his help/input.

And I haven't even begun to think about packing. I tend to be an over-packer, but my goal is to go pretty minimal this time around.   (Wish me luck!)

So, yeah, it's fun, and exciting, and time consuming, and overwhelming, and yeah. There's a lot to think about.  But I should be able to pursue that career in travel and tourism when I'm done.

Jury Duty.

I actually had jury duty a couple weeks ago.

It wasn't the first time I'd gotten a notice in the mail, but it was the first time I actually had to go in.  The only other times I'd gotten notice, I'd call the day before, hear that my group had been released, throw the card in the trash, and go on with my life.

This time I had to drive all the way down to the Phoenix Superior Court, where I had my fingers crossed that I would still be sent home.  Most everyone I have talked to has never actually had to do jury duty. Supposedly most cases never make it to court.  Most defendants plea bargain out at the last minute. That's what I hear anyway.

So this case made it to court, and out of the 50 of us potential jurors, they weeded us down to 8.  Eight.

They were asking all sorts of questions trying to weed us out and I was even honest in telling them about my brush with the law 20 years ago, hoping that that would disqualify me, but apparently not.

Fortunately it only lasted 3 days, and it wasn't that bad.  Sort of interesting actually.  One day was the jury selection, one day was the actual trial, and there was almost a whole day of deliberation.

Basically we just had to decide whether some guy was a drug dealer, or just a drug user.  They busted this guy with eleven little baggies of meth, and a couple thousand dollars both tucked away in his wallet, and shoved in his pockets. 

Seven out of eight of us were pretty convinced that he was guilty, but one girl was a holdout.  Her reasoning was that the guy didn't have a weapon on him.  Apparently her boyfriend is a dealer, and his brothers are dealers, and his dad is a meth dealer, and all the drug dealers she knows carry weapons, and the cops were just out to get this guy.

Uhhh....

Ummm. Okay. Wow. Sure.  Well then...

Anyway, she eventually "changed her mind."  I think she just wanted to go home.

It was still fairly mentally exhausting.  Fascinating, but exhausting.  

Once upon a time I wanted to be a lawyer, and then after a wildly successful stint with that, I'd become a judge.  When my junior high organized it's judicial branch of government, I was in the front of the line to sign up.  We mostly just handed out detentions to open and shut cases, but each quarter I got to particpate in a different aspect of court- Clerk, bailiff, lawyer, judge.  It was awesome.

But I wasn't digging this so much.  It wasn't the time I had to spend, It was only three days after all, and my kids are all in school, so it was only a minor inconvenience. 

And everyone was super nice.  I really liked the judge.  She was really nice.  I guess in my head I was thinking that to compete in such a historically and probably predominantly man's world, all the women judges are "Judge Judy" clones, but I probably couldn't have been more off base.

I just really hated having this one man's fate in my hands.  I still think he was guilty, but while it felt very black and white, and my conscious is clear, believe it or not I wish the decision were harder.  It's not like he had his life in our hands, he wasn't going to death row or anything, but it just felt like it shouldn't be so easy.  Does that make sense?  And there were questions that I wish could have been answered.-

Although they are required to provide no defense, and there's that whole "Innocent until proven guilty" thing, and we aren't supposed to hold a lack of defense against them, I really wished he would have given us something, other than "Nobody actually saw me sell anything..."  Why did he have all that money in his pockets? If not for drugs, then what?  Rent? Child support? Sick wife?

Why was nobody there to support him?  Does he have a family?  Where are they? He needed a translator, (I think he spoke only Spanish) so was he alone because anyone who loves him is far away?  Was it because the actual incident happened five years ago, and there's nobody left?  

And while we are on the subject, how come it takes five years for these things to come to court?  What has this guy been doing for the past five years?  Sitting in a cell, or out dealing more drugs? (I say that because I am assuming he was guilty)

Why did he never once look over at us?  Did his lawyer tell him not to? Was he afraid of what he'd see in our eyes, or what we'd see in his, or was he so arrogant that he didn't need to acknowledge us? 

Anyway, I'm kinda glad I never followed that career path to be a judge.  I wonder how jaded I would be after years of this kind of stuff.  I'm no Mother Teresa, or Pollyanna or Maria from the Sound of Music, and I've been accused of being quite the cynic, but I think deep down I wanted this guy to be innocent. Just a stupid addict who needs help, not some monster preying on stupid addicts who need help.

Memories of my grandma

This is the talk I gave at my grandma's funeral two months ago. I added the pictures just for fun today.

Hi, I'm Kirsten Berrett, the oldest child of Sharon and the second oldest of all the grand kids.  I was asked to share a memory or two with you about my grandma, or as we called her, Grammy, but I have had a pretty difficult time writing this.

It's been hard because it's impossible to narrow it down to just a couple out of a lifetime of memories.  She was just always there.  For as long as I can remember, my grandma has been such a presence in my life.

I think she must have babysat me quite frequently when I was little because many of my earliest memories were of me spending time with her in her home.

You might think that a little girl spending hours and hours at her Grandma's house would be boring, but I don't remember it that way.

She didn't have a lot of toys for me to play with, but to me her house was one big treasure hunt.  Rooms and rooms full of exciting and interesting thing waiting to be discovered.  Unfortunately for me, she wasn't the biggest fan of me going through her stuff, and me being a little kid, I never understood why not.

Sometimes I would try and sneak downstairs to explore the rooms full of hidden treasures down there.  All those boxes chock full of items from days gone by behind closed doors was more than I could handle. Of course now as an adult, I totally get not wanting some little kid rummaging through my stuff.

One thing she let me do which I loved was to play dress-up in her bedroom.  She had quite the collection of wigs and scarves and hats and bags and jewelry.  The jewelry was my favorite.  I was bewildered by the fact that she would let me try on her jewelry and parade around the house.  She assured me they weren't the priceless jewels I thought they were, but I just knew she was wrong and that she really had a secret fortune waiting to be discovered in her dresser drawers. 

It wasn't all fun and games though.  She'd do her best to put me to work.  My favorite job was picking the black raspberries.  I think she needed me to pick them because the bushes were dense and thorny and I could easily crawl into the tight spaces where all the best berries grew.  Of course she never seemed too pleased when I emerged from the depths of the bushes with an empty bowl, and a full belly.  To this day black raspberries are my very favorite berry.

My least favorite job was dusting.  She would hand me a dust cloth and try to motivate me to dust her house by telling me it was fun and that we could "make a game out of it!"  She would say, "Let's see how fast we can get this room done!" But I knew better. I knew she was just using me for cheap labor because nobody in their right mind in the history of the world had ever called work "fun."

But times go on.  Things change.  As I grew older, I didn't need a babysitter anymore and I spent less and less time with her one on one.  But Grammy was always still there.  She would stop by my parent's house frequently as we were blessed to live only minutes away from her my whole life growing up.  I'd see her regularly, but stopped spending any real time with her.  I grew up.  Got busy.

And then one day I became a new mommy.  I had a house and family of my own, and I was out in the world trying to find my way.

As a female member of this family, it's pretty much expected that you learn to make caramels.  My grandma got the recipe from her neighbor, adapted it a bit (I've heard the original recipe actually called for paraffin wax) and then passed the recipe on to her daughters, who in turn passed the recipe on to the next generation.  Although I can now make them in my sleep, my very first attempt was a total disaster.  I overcooked them so long, I didn't know what was harder, them, or the glass pan they were in.  In my inexperience and naiveté,  I was so sure my pan (and the caramels) were a lost cause and I would probably have to chuck the whole thing (pan and all) in the trash.  Grammy, in her kindness and years of experience, took my pan home, rescued both the caramels and the pan and returned to me the next day a perfectly clean pan and a bag full of perfect, soft, wrapped caramels.  In my mind she had done the impossible.

Sometimes she'd bring me things that she thought I might like that she found somewhere in the basement or a closet in her house.  Sometimes they were things people like me might consider to be junk, like a picture she cut out of a magazine that she suggested I might like to frame and hang on the wall, and other times, they were priceless treasures.   I remember once in particular she brought over an old Christmas letter she had written decades before.  She thought I might like reading it see a tiny slice of life of when my mom was a little girl.  Besides being a truly fascinating read, I was surprised to discover not only what a great writer she was, but how funny she was.  I was gratified to know that my former self, the little four year old who so curiously wanted to explore her grandmas basement, was right that there were indeed treasures to be found.

But as a young mom, what meant the most to me was the help she so freely offered with my young kids.  She's often talked about her posterity and how much joy they bring her, and she showed that love in action and deed.  She and Nick, my oldest, were buddies when he was just a little guy.  They built snowmen and planted trees,  And just like when I was little, she put him to work doing little jobs like watering plants and dusting furniture.   We didn't have a camera for the first few years of Nick's life, and she kept me supplied with priceless pictures of my first born.

And then came my second child, Madison.  As sweet and wonderful as she is now, she was nicknamed a tyrant back then for good reason.  She must have been colicky and miserable because she made my life miserable.  She needed to be help all day and night.  Not just held, but WALKED. I think I averaged only a couple of hours of sleep a night.

There were days where I was so exhausted and sleep deprived I thought I was going to lose my mind.  And I might have if it weren't for Grammy.  She would regularly call me up and ask if she could come over and hold Maddie.  "I need some time with my sweet little great grand daughter.  Can I come over and just hold her for a couple of hours?  You can do whatever you need to.  Go to the store, take a shower, or even take a nap."  I always opted for the nap.

This simple act of service meant more to me than she could ever know.  She acted like I was doing her a favor, but with those extra few hours of sleep, I felt like a person again.  Still very tired, but at the very least a little saner.  And we had some good talks after I woke up.  I gained a new found appreciation and understanding of my grandma in those few short years.

And then we moved to Arizona shortly before Maddie's first birthday, and my time spent with her pretty much came to an end.  Oh sure, I'd see her when I'd come to visit during the summers, but nothing like before. 

But I will forever be grateful for the time I was able to spend with her, and know my life was blessed because she was a part of it, and I also like to think she would be happy to know that there are countless Arizonans that she's never met who think her caramels are the absolute best they've ever had. 

a funeral, a family reunion, and a bazillion question about death.

My grandmother died this past February.

Sad, but it was time.  Her health was failing, she had buried all her siblings and most of her friends already, and she had mentioned to me several times over the past few years that The Lord could take her whenever He was ready. 

I was able to fly up to Utah and attend her funeral.  Actually, I had to speak at her funeral.  That wasn't fun. (If I find a copy, I'll try to post it on here just for "posterity.")

What was fun though was seeing everybody.  Sadly there were a few spouses who couldn't make it, but all four of us siblings,

and all eight of us cousins were there, so that was cool.  It had been YEARS since all of us were in the same place at the same time.  It was so great to spend time with these people.  Days like that are what make it hard about living so far away from family.

 

 

And here's a picture of my mom, her sister, and all of the grandkids, by age, oldest in the middle, and youngest on the ends. 

My kids weren't able to go, we were pretty low on the frequent flyer miles, but that hasn't stopped Christopher from obsessing about the topic ever since.  He asked me to take a picture of her in her box, which he occasionally likes to pull up and look at. (I'll spare everyone the picture of the open casket...)

Actually, death in general is a big topic with him these days.

And who knew that speaking at her funeral would be easier than what awaited me at home?

I think Christopher has a real hard time with abstract ideas.  You know, things you can't feel, taste, touch, see, smell, or measure.  For instance, TIME.  You can't see time.  You can't taste it or touch it.  But you can measure it's passing.  So time is something we can understand.

But death and heaven and Jesus and resurrection and real vs. pretend?  Difficult concepts.  And I swear it's not like he hasn't been exposed to this kind of stuff before.  Like the subject of him getting baptized.  "No, I don't want to get baptized.  I don't want to follow Jesus."  Of course now that he saw his friend get baptized he's okay with it.  Kinda like "That's what you all want me to do?  I can do that."  And despite 8 years of regular exposure (at church and in the home), I think he has NO IDEA who Jesus is other than a guy in pictures and stories.  I'm finding my words inadequate to explain things to him. How best to make him understand concepts? Concepts that are difficult for many adults to understand? 

Conversations like this one when he was running in the Target parking lot. 

"Christopher! Come hold my hand right now!  That car almost hit you!"
"And then I will be dead?"
"Yes.  You will be dead."
"And you will take me to heaven?"
"No, the angels will come and take you to heaven."
"Where is heaven?"  (he wants the exact location)
"Uhhhh...."

And so many of these conversations we have over and over.  It's like he's trying to wrap his head around things.  Things that I might consider simple, but to him they are not.  And then when he asks questions I struggle with how much to say, because he seems to see the world differently. 

"Jesus died?"
"Yes.  He died."
"Did he get hit with a car?"
"No...But he's not dead anymore, he came back to life."
"He's alive?"
"Yes.  But he's in heaven. "
"With Grammy?"
"Yes, with Grammy."
(Instead of going into the details about Jesus' death, I thought it more important to tell him that He Lives. One thing at a time, I guess.)

(When we took him to the Mesa Temple Easter Pageant.)
"We're going to watch a show about Jesus."
"Is that Heaven?"
"No... That's just a stage."

"Grammy is dead?"
"Yep.  Grammy died."
"Did she get hit with a car?"
"No.  She was just old."
"When you are old you die?"
"Yes. Old people die."
"I am not an old people.  I am a new people."

"Grammy is dead?"
"Yes.  Grammy is dead."
"Where did she die?"
"In a hospital."
"How did she die?"
"She was old.  Her heart stopped working."
"Her heart is broken?"
"Yes.  Her heart is broken."
"They need to fix it."
"Yes.  Jesus will fix her heart."

"She is in the box?"
"Yes, her body is in the box, but her spirit is up in heaven with Jesus."
"Did Jesus put her in the box?"
"No. Workers did."
"They put her in a big hole in the ground? And put dirt on her?"
"Yes."
"When I die I don't want to be in a big hole.  I want to be in a little hole."

"Grammy is dead."
"Yes she is."
"Amy and Rory are dead too." (Characters on the TV show Doctor Who.)
"Yes, they are dead, but they are just pretend."
"Is Grammy pretend?"
"No, she's real."
(After discussing several other real vs. pretend people)
"Is Jesus pretend?"
"No, he's real."

"I need blue eyes.  How much blue eyes cost?"
"You don't buy eyes honey.  Heavenly Father and Jesus gives you your eyes.  You have pretty brown eyes."
"They are not pretty, they are beautiful."
"You're right.  They are beautiful."
"When I am 80 I will die and I will ask Jesus to give me blue eyes."
"Ok,  you do that... but I love your brown eyes."

Butterflies

I really love going on fieldtrips with my kids.  It's so fun to spend (sorta) one-on-one time with them in different settings. 

Christopher's second grade class went to a butterfly thing a few weeks ago.  I think my brain is rusty from not writing.  The words just aren't coming to me.  Maybe it's because it's almost midnight, and maybe it's from lack of usage, anyway, I can't remember what it was called.  Butterfly something-or-other.  It was a building with a greenhouse type building attached and there were lots of plants and butterflies.  And it was cool.  And maybe I shouldn't wait so long to blog about stuff so that it's easier to get it out of my brain and into words that other people read.

Anyway, I got picked to chaperone.*  And I'm kindof thinking that when it comes to Christopher I'll have an edge over other parents when it comes to being picked to chaperone.  All other things being equal, Christopher is special.  And I'm guessing that other parents (you know, parents of normal kids) might have reservations when it comes to dealing with kids like mine.  (although that would be their problem, cause my kid is awesome.)

So it was fun.  But here's the best part for me.  All year long I've been hearing about Faith and Maya.  His two little besties in his class.  Especially Faith.  The teachers have been telling me about these sweet girls that just take care of Christopher all day long.  They even make sure one or both of these is girls is in any groups that Christopher gets divided into.  They play at recess with him, and apparently he gets all googly-eyes around them and it is apparent to everyone that he has the biggest crush on Faith. 

So awesome.

And I got to see this first hand.  Cutest thing ever.  Faith's mom was a chaperone as well, and my group just consisted of Christopher and one other little SPICE boy, but Christopher and this other kid don't get along that well, so an aide took care of the other kid.

So I followed Christopher and Faith and Maya around all day.  

Christopher wasn't the biggest fan of the butterflies. 

They did unpredictable things like fly around and swoop at your head and try to land on you.  He totally flipped out when one landed on me.  We were instructed not to touch or swipe at them, just kinda (gently) shake it off!  "Mommy! Mommy! Get it off!  Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle! Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle!"

But once again Faith took care of Christopher and helped him to not be scared.

And then we ate lunch at the Riparian Preserve and then went home.  And despite the fact that the place is full of those crazy flying six legged monsters, Christopher says he wants to go back.  So, in my book that's a total success.

*totally not related to the topic, but when I spell check, blogger wants me to spell it chaperon not chaperone.  I'm pretty sure the teachers and the schools spell it chaperone, and I think it looks dumb without the "e" on the end there, and I usually spell it the way blogger wants me to, but No MORE! Today I am taking a stand, and adding that extra e on the end there, from here on out.