Pitching a Tent

The boys love to go 'caterpillar hunting' and were quite thrilled to find their first caterpillar of the season. We examined his colors (black with white stripe down its back and blue stripes down the sides) before D picked him up to feel how "soft" it was.... the fuzzier the better in his opinion. This caterpillar met his approval. He anxiously told me to take pictures so that we could look it up later to see what kind it was. When I came back outside with my camera, they had found a few more fuzzy friends, and D was letting them crawl up his sleeves (boys will be boys, right?). That night we looked up caterpillars in The Gardener's Bug Book by Cynthia Westcott (an old book I found at our library book sale for twenty cents!!) and found out our little visitors are Eastern Tent Caterpillars. They form communal "tents" in the nooks of twigs until they are ready to morph into moths (reddish brown with two diagonal stripes on each wing). It was fun to search in this book because there aren't a lot of pictures so D and I had to read through all of the caterpillar entries in order to find the one that best fit our observations (a.k.a. cuddle time on the couch). We then confirmed our findings in my Audobon guide. The next day we found their nest right near the end of our driveway. The boys have been checking back every day to watch them crawling in, out, and all about their nest, and today B found a teeny little baby one crawling on a branch nearby. The next thing we're bound to notice is all the holes in the foliage as they eat their way through our trees. I guess we'll have to reread "The Hungry Caterpillar" by Eric Carle tomorrow night (again.........).

A Week of Accomplishments

The training wheels came off last Sunday, and apparently D's been ready for this for awhile because he took off without a bauble. I can honestly say I have never seen him SO PROUD of himself as when he told me how he did it the very first time Daddy let go, without even falling. Not to be outdone, the very next morning B hopped onto his tricycle and began pedaling, all on his own. After weeks of trying to get him to even TRY to pedal and getting nothing more than a blank stare in return, suddenly he's off and rolling. Isn't it amazing what a little competition between brothers can do?

D also learned how to partially tie his shoes (doesn't really count but he was excited) and this morning he tied a balloon by himself. He must be going through a developmental growth spurt. They say it's common for this to happen around the time of a child's half-birthday, and his is just weeks away.

3rd Rock From the Sun

On Wednesday afternoon, D began complaining. So for those of you who know D, you may be asking, "Yeah, so what's new??" I'll tell you what was new....he was complaining about how tired he was. This coming from a child who is NEVER tired!! Then he began to cry, complete with big crocodile tears, about how cold he felt. He was freezing cold, even though it was pushing 70+ degrees. We came inside and he put a sweatshirt on, wrapped himself in his blanket, and cried some more about how he was sooooo cold. I held him in my lap and tried to warm him up, knowing full well my poor little man must have a fever and the chills.

"I HATE being cold mommy! I hate it I hate it!" he cried. "I'm not even getting warm!"

"You're not? Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry. I don't like when my kiddos are sick" I replied, squeezing him a little tighter.

" I HATE being cooollllllddddddddddd!!!" he continued to cry--big, sad crocodile tears and all-- "I wish our planet was the CLOSEST planet to the sun." And with that comment, he rested his head on my chest and stop complaining. His point had been made.

Back to the Beach

There's nothing quite like the first day back to the beach after an endlessly cold and snowy winter. Even though the breeze was chilly and the water frigid, it felt divine to have the smooth, soft sand between my toes while watching the boys play together by the seashore. Almost perfect..... until I lost my keys. And yes, I panicked, and even lost my temper (as B attempted to run into the street while I searched through my bags for the sixth time). "Please, God, let the keys be here!!" I muttered as I looked through the sand-laden beach toys. And what do you know? Even though I lost my patience and probably used His name in vain more than once, God answered my prayer. Right then and there.

No, the keys were not in my bag. Instead, he sent me an angel. A wonderfully concerned passerby noticed my frenzy and decided to ask if she could help me out. She volunteered to walk back to the beach with me, boys in tow, to help see if we could spot the missing keys along the way. We retraced our steps, and just as I was convinced the keys must've floated out to sea--never to be seen again--I hear her yell "We found them!!" Actually, D is the one who found them buried under the sand where we had been sitting, just a teeny tip of my little flashlight sticking up from the surface. I thanked her profusely for being so kind and she smiled and returned to her afternoon walk.

She took the time to help out a complete stranger, to offer her assistance, to speak kind words of concern and encouragement. Yes, it was only lost keys we were looking for, but she helped me find even more. She helped me discover hope where just moments ago only anger and frustration had resided.