Super Shoppers

Our neighborhood hosts two garage sale weekends each year. Last spring we threw our own sale and earned a few hundred bucks. This fall we decided to re-fill our garage! Here's our booty: blue (who wants a painting project?) metal chair = FREE; basketball goal = $1; eight books for Sophie = $5; flowery shirt and sailboat dress = $1.50; Casio keyboard = $5; two large dinosaurs = 50 cents; couch for Frank's classroom = $10; wooden chair for Frank's classroom = $10; movie screen (not pictured) for Frank's classroom = FREE; blue pom-pom for Sophie = FREE...and the find of the day...the ENTIRE zoological spectrum, including the Jurassic Age.....$3 whole dollars.

All in all, it was a great day of shopping. Our Laney-friend picked up a LightBright (Lite Brite?) and the other FREE pom pom. We like to share the love.

Guilt By Association

So...Sophie is two. As in terrible, at times. I know, I know...she's "independent" and "learning about boundaries" and "exploring her world." Translation: she's licking paintbrushes and eating play-doh and grabbing the dog's tail and throwing food on the floor.

Last week, she had to go to Time Out at school because she pushed her friend Kendall. (There have been unsubstantiated reports that "Kendall bited me," --no marks teethmarks or teacher's report, but she's sticking to the story-- so it was probably mafia-style retaliation.) I could've told 'em -- Time Out isn't really a punishment or consequence to Sophie. She just marches off to the Time Out spot, sits there quietly without the tears or frustration that might make you think she was sorry for whatever infraction was just committed. When you go to retrieve her after the age-appropriate two minutes and explain why you put her in Time Out and suggest that she say "Sorry, Momma" or "Sorry, Callie," she often responds with "No." (Crossed arms, feet swinging, "I can stay in Time Out all day, lady" look on her face.)

So she got a Time Out in school. And she didn't care. The next day, her teacher tried to re-direct some misbehavior and Sophie said, "No!" and did it again. They tried Time Out a few more times, but when Frank came to pick up Sophie, Miss Heather explained that they would be looking into some new consequences for her since Time Out didn't seem to work.

Huh?!? Like what? Sitting in a corner? Cleaning the erasers? Duct tape? What could this mean?!? My friend Julie told me that the only thing that really worked with her son was taking away his matchbox cars. That very same evening, Sophie did something mean to Callie -- I can't remember what. Dumped out her food bowl or smacked her on the head or something. The point is, Cow was there, too. So Sophie learned a little lesson called Guilt By Association. Sophie may have done the crime, but Cowmoo had to do the time. I scooped him up and told Sophie that Cow wasn't being nice to Callie-dog and put him in the Time Out room but up high where Sophie couldn't reach him. And she broke. There were tears and wailing and flailing and I think she even tried to smuggle in a cake with a file baked into the middle. After one minute of Cow being in Time Out, Sophie was saying she was sorry and giving hugs.

Sigh. Tune in next week to see pictures of me holding Cowmoo over a pot of boiling water.

Go, Sophie, Go

The girl's got wheels. The COOLEST set of wheels were unveiled at the farm. GramKat found a little silver truck (Sophie calls it "Sophie's Little Daddy's Truck") that you actually drive like a car. As in, "put the pedal to the metal" and "eat my dust." Cow took the maiden voyage:

So many errands, so little time. Hang on, Cowmoo -- we don't want you to get whiplash!

Sometimes you have to take a pit stop and smell the roses. Sometimes you just run into them because you're driving without hands.

"What? I didn't cut you off; you cut ME off, bozo!!" (Sophie experiences her first road rage.)

And here's the insane Grandma who bought Sophie her first car. They both look pretty pleased with themselves, don't they?

As we were driving back to Austin, Frank and I started a tally of Webster vehicles:

Frank: one rattly pick-up truck and one sand-encrusted, rusty bike with missing seat cover

Stacy: one Honda littered with goldfish crackers and reeking of sour milk; one bicyle with no gears and squeaky brakes

Sophie: one jogging stroller, one Graco stroller, one umbrella stroller, one bike buggy, one wooden sit-upon car, one plastic Cozy-Coupe car, two tricycles, and one silver pick-up truck with much better alignment and road noise than her Dad's. Oh, yeah...and a wagon.

So maybe we're not teaching her a good lesson about the environment. Then again, the only "vehicle" we bought for her at a store was the $9.99 umbrella stroller from Target. All her other rides were (in order): garage sale find, gift, garage sale find, used toy depot purchase, Craigslist find, used toy depot find and Grandma gift, Grandma gift, and garage sale find. We suck at emissions standards but we're great at recycling!

Go, Austin!

I know that most of my blog-readers don't give a flip about Austin High School football -- you're all Longhorn fans (or gasp...Aggies) or fantasy football fanatics. And my side of the family, of course, are Cowboy fans -- the loyal ones, not the fickle type. But I just have to tell you...we did it AGAIN. For years, our top rival Westlake has decimated us on the field. People actually move to Austin and search for homes in the Eanes district so their kids can be on the Westlake team (sick, I know...but keep reading). Last year, in a miraculous turn of events, Austin High, MY kids, beat the team that has won the state champ title so many times. And I'll be honest -- I didn't think we had a chance this year. Not again. I thought they'd be out for revenge. I didn't even go to the game this weekend because we were going out of town and I thought it would be a pretty bad beating to witness. But I was wrong. I should have had more faith. Austin high beat Westlake for two years in a row. Suck on it, Chaps.


We weren't at the Westlake game, but this is Sophie with Brian-uncle at the McCallum game. She cheered the whole way to the stadium -- Frank even taught her to say, "Boo, Caaam" -- but she was a bit overwhelmed when we were actually sitting in the stands. She barely whispered her "Go, Austin" and buried her face several times. She pointed to the Maroon (our mascot -- a big fuzzy maroon-colored puff ball on legs) and said, "Sun. Sun." At halftime, she found her calling. She was sitting on my lap and we were all focused on the band on the field. Someone said, "Look at Sophie!" I looked down, and she was conducting. Just like the drum major. There you have it folks. Not just a future band geek. But the future SUPREME band geek. I'm so very proud. Band kids almost always do well in school! On the way home, she found her voice again and shouted "Go, Austin!" "Go, Mooons!" (Maroons)

Goin' On a Frog Hunt

I'm a bit behind on posting...these pics are from last weekend when we took Sophie down to the playground and then explored the pond looking for frogs. We heard the frogs plopping into the water, but never saw one. We did see lots of dragonflies (Sophie's a big fan) and Momma snapped off a cattail for Sophie. (Epilogue: The cattail ended up on the floorboard of my car and "blossomed" three days later -- big and poofy like a giant dandelion.)

Two Year Old Stats

Frank took Sophie to the doctor yesterday for her two year well-child check.

Height: 75th percentile
Weight: 60th percentile
And a direct quote from the doc: "She's perfect."

We suspected all along.

An Update About School

So...when we ask Sophie what she did at school, she almost always answers, "I makey sad." Which means that she made a sad face. Heartbreaking, isn't it? But here's the deal...she really DID make a sad face (on a paper plate). She also made a happy face (on a paper plate that is hanging on our fridge). Is that one activity sticking out in her mind? Did she get such a great reaction the first time she said that (hugs and kisses and cupcakes) that she's just repeating the phrase every day?

I don't think she's sad at school When I drop her off, she doesn't cry anymore (although she sometimes wants to be held when we walk in the door) -- once she's on the ground, she marches to the fridge to put away her milk while I put Cowmoo in her cubby, and then she grabs my hand to walk outside to find her friends. When we pick her up, she's always laughing and playing and having a great time. The daily reports have the happy box checked every single day. (We had a couple of sad boxes at the beginning. We've not yet had fussy, but I think that is code for naughty or annoying.) All signs point to her being HAPPY at school, but still -- every day -- "What did you do at school today?" "I makey saaaaad."

Yesterday I asked her who she played with, and she quickly answered "Donavan." There's no Donavan in her class. Is this an older boy? An imaginary friend? I asked her if Miss Heather is nice, and she said, "Meees Hedda pretty." Well, that's something.

Miss Bossy

Sophie is learning about her world every day. Lately, she's learning about the caste system in the Webster household, and attempting to change her rank.

Last week, I grabbed a wipe and scrubbed off her knee (ahem...while I was driving, because she had just drawn hundreds of spiraling red circles on her leg with a ballpoint pen and we were on our way to someplace where I suppose I thought she should look clean...can't remember now). But she told me, "No, Momma. No touch wipes. Time out!" And then she pointed to the car door. There have been times, driving with a whining or screaming version of Sophie, when I contemplated ejecting myself. Luckily this was not one of them. (And...I later learned that there is a kid at pre-school who likes to pull hundreds of wipes out of the container and he got a time-out. I was guilty by association.)

Last night, when I was putting Sophie down to bed, Callie-dog was rummaging around the room looking for dropped crumbs or tasty wooden toys to destroy and Sophie pointed to the door and said, "Get out here, Callie. Go your room! Too loud!"

But she is not above reproach. Yesterday afternoon, she lifted the dogbowl up and then poured it out right in front of Frank and me. We all just stood there silently, staring at each other for a second, listening to the kibble skitter across the tile. Without saying a word, I pointed to the room where Sophie's "time out spot" is located. She turned and trotted off without saying a word. A couple of minutes later she said, "Solly, Momma," and we swept up the dogfood with Callie's help.

And all is right with the world.

P.S. All is NOT right with our camera, so the blog updates may be word-heavy and picture-shy for a while!

Yeah...she's a nut.

Ditchdirt Daughters

This video is a Frank Webster short (a DubSTAR production), created to introduce our Dive-In Movie Experience (watching Jaws while floating in Emily and Debbie's pool). It features the "ditchdirt" daughters (Lucy, Laney, Sophie, and Josie -- from oldest to youngest) in various waters. Yeah...they're going to give us a run for our money when they're all teenagers. http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-875271861996358499&hl=en

Can we rent your grandma?

And on the first day of school...God created vomit.

So, it's the first day of school and I've just finished teaching second period when my cell phone rings. (Whoops -- gotta remember to turn that off during classtime.) It's Sophie's school. She has vomited four times in the two hours that she has been there this morning and they're really sorry because they know it's the first day of school for us, but the three things that'll get a kid booted from pre-school are fever, vomit, and a bounced tuition check.

I called Frank in a panic and it just happened to be his conference period (they're on block schedule, so he has an hour and a half block of time off), so he raced over to Sophie's school to pick her up and then...we didn't have that part figured out yet. I started calling all the people we know who happen to work out of their houses or stay at home with kids. (Of course, people with kids would rather invite a rabid dog inside than a vomiter.) No luck there.

Then I had a brainstorm -- one of my fellow teachers lives right down the street and his wife Jan retired last year and she looooves Sophie, so I ran upstairs and got her number from Sean. By the time Frank got to our house with Sophie, Jan was there, ready to be Grandma-for-the-Day. She grabbed Sophie from Frank, sat down in the rocking chair and held Sophie's forehead and pronounced her fever-free. Frank went back to work and Sophie didn't vomit again for the rest of the day and she was back to her old self by the time I got home from work.

We had to keep her home for 24 hours, so I took her to the doctor the next morning. Here's how that conversation went:

Me: She's had a cough and then she vomited at school (probably drainage) and her lungs sound raspy. She just started pre-school so we think it's the kennel cough.
Doc: Yep...she's sick. Probably a virus. Say "Ahhhhh" Sophie.
Sophie: No.
Doc: Okay. It's a virus. That'll be $20 please.

She got to spend Tuesday with her Daddy (he hired a sub, but went to school to meet each class, and then took Sophie outside to play, then to lunch with the Kealing crowd, then home to nap). She's almost cured now (and she's back at school), but the cough lingers.

Now I've got to work on my plan to:
1) get my dad to retire so he can pick Sophie up from school when she's sick
2) convince Granddad and Mamaw (Frank's folks) to move to Texas, or
3) figure out how to RENT a grandparent when we need one.
Think Craigslist will work?
Here's Sophie rejecting her new vitamin regimen. She guzzles down Tylenol, Triaminic, and cough syrup, but thinks cute animal-shaped, candy-tasting vitamins are YUCKY:

Lordy, lordy, look who's...two.

What with moving classrooms and the first day of school and Sophie-school starting and the recent outbreak of kennel cough at the Webster household, I finally got some of the birthday pics posted to the main picture pages website. Click here to check them out: BIRTHDAY GIRL.

Next on my list: thank you cards mailed! (tune in to a mailbox near you.)

Some new TWO things:

She "checks for understanding" (teacherspeak) by adding "kay?" to the end of many of her sentences. "Sophie have popcorn, kay?" "Brush teeth now, kay?"

She loves watercolor, but she has a very, let's call it muted, style. She dips into color first, then into water, then onto the paper. I've showed her my way many, many times. She prefers the highway.

She requests songs each night (ABC? Bah, bah black sheep? Pig?) That last one refers to Old MacDonald, and she usually requests the animals in this order: pig, chicken, dog, cow, pig again (for sure) and then sometimes back to chicken.

For the first time ever, she looked up at me during the whole bedtime routine and said, "I go to bed now, kay?" OKAY, Sophie Grace!

She tells Callie-dog, "Go 'way, Callie" and "Knock off, Callie!" (Poor, poor dog. But don't feel too bad for her -- she's gained a lot of weight from all of Sophie's scraps.)

Food has suddenly become yucky. She used to eat sweet potatoes and peas and broccoli. Her new thing is: "Yucky. Sophie no yike it." I would blame school, but it started right before then. I can, however, blame her school for our nasty cough. Stay tuned for more gory details.

Happy Birthday, Snowpea.

You're sleeping now. You had an amazing weekend galavanting around town with Uncle Jordan and Ashley, then you romped and played at your party this afternoon under the trees at Freddie's Place. Birthday Girl, you looked soooo sweet in your green party dress with the cute white pockets and your hot pink cowboy boots that are two sizes too big (but you refused to wear any other shoes). These past two years have been the most wonderful of my life. Even when I stop to consider my mother's diagnosis and sickness and passing -- you brought her such joy in the time that she knew you. And as for me, I didn't know I could love so much. Nana Jane wanted to give you a dollar for every year of your age, so I'm about to sneak into your room and put $2 in your piggy bank. Apparently you'll have quite a nice gifty when you turn 18 and break open the bank. We all love you so very, very much. Thanks for coming into the world!

Hey, is that a knife in your heart?

Momma, driving Sophie home from her third day at pre-school: "What did you do at school today, Sophie?"

Sophie, drawing a tear down her face with her finger: "I sad. I cry."

First Day of Preschool

We experienced another "first" today: the first day of preschool. And it seems that we have all survived quite nicely. Don't get me wrong -- Sophie cried when we left and I cried on the way home -- I mean, we barely know these people and we just drove away! But when I returned, they hadn't sold her to the gypsies or made her sew tennis shoes together. Instead, they learned about monkeys, and that is a subject that Sophie loves to discuss. Apparently she took a nap today (I have no actual proof that she slept on a little blue mat on the floor, but that's what the people are trying to tell me), and while she had some sad moments, she also had some moments when she was interacting with all her new friends. And that's the whole point.

Here's Sophie on her first day of school, with her backpack, lunchbox, and new converse tennis shoes: (Oh...and clean face and cute piggies so they will love her, of course.)


When I picked her up from school, she told all of her new friends, "Bye! See morrow!" Then we went to order her birthday cake for this weekend and she got to have a special cupcake treat to celebrate school. Yes, yes, I know. I shouldn't comfort her with food. But she's too young for a margarita!