So how IS school going?

(Here are the girls with their Snoopy dogs from Aunt Cari in Iowa. Thank you, Aunt Cari!!)

After a month of the new charter school, Evelyn says the best part of school is sitting next to her friends. And they are all boys. She says, with her big goofy grin and a dramatic shoulder-shrug, "I don't know why, but all the boys in school LOVE me!", adding, "I really LOVE that!" Her best friends at school are Trevor, Zyon ("Zyon with a Y" as he is known, since there is also a "Zion with an I" in her class), and Kay'ran, whose claim to fame is that he was born with braids. ("Just like his grandfather!!" Evelyn says with a wide-eyed hush, imitating the wonder with which Kay'ran shares this amazing genetic trait.)

I think, being an active kid, she is drawn to other active kids--especially ones who will play "chase" ad nauseum. Those are often boys. Alan is hoping this is not a trend. Or at least that she'll continue in her distinct pleasure in out-running them.

Amelia had her four year old well visit this past week. "Uh," you say, "didn't she turn four in MAY?" To which I reply, "Why yes she did, but our health insurance dictates 12 months between well visits." Enough said? Uh...ok...I admit...I'm a procrastinator and between my procrastination and the occasional illnesses that have stalled our well-visits over the years, we're several months behind on each kid. But my friend Diana assures me I'll eventually catch up again. :)

Anyway, the well visit came with multiple shots, and Alan was worried about our sensitive second child's reaction to this trauma. Prepping her in the doctor's office, he told her to expect some sharp stings. "Ok," she said, shrugging, "I'm not scared." He reinforced that she might be afraid and that it might hurt. "Will it hurt like THIS?" she said, taking her index finger and digging it deeply into her own thigh. A bit stunned, Alan just said, "It might."

The nurses came in, both armed with needles. Alan held down her legs. Plunge! Plunge! Nothing. She didn't flinch, whimper, or even change her facial expression. The nurses and Alan all looked at each other. "Wow," said one of them. Plunge! Plunge! Again, nothing. Amelia's bragged ever since (in spite of the huge, rock-hard bulges on her thighs right now) that she got shots and they didn't even hurt and she didn't even cry.

Why do I share this? Because she still shakes, clings, and sobs silent, gigantic tears every morning when we drop her off for school. She says she likes school, has fun once her minutes of tears have passed, and is never anxious about going.

There are just certain things more worthy of tears than others. :)