Science (Un)Fair

 Ah, science fair project time.

That beloved season of harebrained ideas, unending tears, and hours-long arguments; where procrastination, lack of planning, and under-preparedness culminate in an acutely unanticipated (yet utterly unsurprising) ceremony of family stress and unhappiness.

Where moms and dads come together to point the finger of blame, question our own (and one another's) ability to parent successfully, and attempt to traverse the moral tightrope spanning that gaping, mysterious chasm of  "doing the work with the child and yet, not for the child."

A season of stress, of slacking, of superior ideas juxtaposed against inferior execution.

Believe it or not, we, the Monsons, have lived to tell the tale. The tale that climaxes with the bestowal of a blue participation ribbon for all of our...er, Savanna's, hard work. 

And the understanding that we have just barely escaped with our sanity.

Celebrate with us, as we echo the refrain that so many well-meaning, yet completely unrealistic parents have proclaimed before us:

Next year we'll get it right.

Saving a Trip

Yesterday I sent Alexa to go take a shower while I was in the backyard with Spencer. 

She quickly reappeared to ask me a question (which she often does when she is supposed to be doing something else.) 

"Can I use your towel, please?"

"Um. Why can't you use your own towel?"

"I didn't want to walk all the way to the other bathroom to get it."

"So, in the time you could have walked to the other bathroom to get your own towel, you came downstairs and out to the backyard to ask me if you could use mine?"

"Mmm. Yes."

And the mysteries of the kid-i-verse live on.

Four, Four, I Want Some More

Our littlest tyke just turned 4 years old, and I can hardly believe it. 

With his constant snuggles, incessant smiles, love for life (and obsession with all things Cars), we truly love and enjoy this little boy more than I could adequately express. I would love to just freeze his cute little self and squeeze every last little precious drop of four-ness out of him that I possibly can.

In true Spencer style, we celebrated his birthday with a Cars-themed party...which worked out nicely, considering we still had all of the decorations from last year. After making the desperate mistake of promising him a birthday party after he learned how to go poop in the potty (waaaay before his actual birthday) this poor kid was feeling pretty tortured. Every time he pooped, he would ask, "Can I start my birthday? Now is it time for my birthday??" Every. Single. Time. For at least a month.

Thank goodness the day finally arrived. First, we did a friend party (or, glorified 4-year-old play date, as I like to call it). Then, we had a family party that night. The house was covered in decorations and Lightning McQueen cupcakes a la Grandma Linda. Pretty much the works.

Basically, it was the best day a 4-year-old Cars lover could hope for. 

He still asks to start his birthday after he poos. When I tell him his birthday has passed, he says, "No, my 'nother birthday!"

He's still got a little over 11 months to go, but I'm crossing my fingers that for his 'nother birthday, we can get just one more year of use out of these Cars decorations. 

May all his cute little wishes come true.