School's Out Foooooooor Suuuuummmmmer!

Collin celebrated in typical Collin-style at the school picnic.

He ate. Chloe, our assigned, parentless-child, didn't so much eat, as wander off a lot to the playground, which was off limits until everyone was done eating, making me feel like a bad assigned parent. Wait, calling her parentless makes her sound like an orphan. Look how adorable she is. Her equally adorable mother just wasn't there. So she, in her totally adorable way, took me be the hand the minute I got there, as if she had bat-radar and said, "I'm to sit with you, okay?" Then, she commenced squatting, as to be better able to dash off at a moment's notice (aka when I was busy not watching her).

Collin also celebrated the end of the school year by being adorable to the ladies. I guess he figured that since he wouldn't be seeing Audrey for a month or two, he'd better make a lasting impression on her, so she'd be thinking of him all summer. He spent all of the last day of school macking on her. I watched him follow her all over the playground and attempt to impress her with all sorts of shovel tricks. This one pretty much consisted of flicking hard-packed mud from the ground into wide arcs. She was somehow not as impressed as he would've liked. I say that any girl who pulls of socks and sandals is a keeper. You chose wisely, my son. And she even accessorizes! And everyone knows how I love a cardigan! Oh, be still my heart.

The whole school celebrated with a bouncy castle. You have not seen joy until you have seen twenty kids at a time, bounce in one of these things. You have also not been summarily impressed until you have seen the skill with which this school managed this. No injuries. No tears. Not a single bonked head. Not a single fight. Nothing. Just fun. It was a-ma-zing! By the way, kids with their pictures on their shirts all saying "I'm special at Rolling Hills Montessori," is so painfully cute!

Mommy couldn't pass up the opportunity to let Collin celebrate his first last day of school at Disneyland. I mean how many kids are lucky enough to have that option? Swing by McDonalds for lunch after spending the morning in a bouncy castle and then dash off to ride Peter Pan? He's one lucky fella, if I do say so myself? Get a lollipop on the way home for being a good boy (because how could you be a pain in the keister after all that) and call it a day. When you finish typing a paragraph like that, your kid sounds like one spoiled little monster.

To compensate for spoiling him, we sometimes deprive him of necessities, like glasses. I made him these out of an egg carton. Daddy is showing him how to wear them so he won't get confused. We figure that this will help him feel more well-rounded.

I'm not certain that he's buying it.

At least, he still thinks I'm funny. I know that one day, very, very, very soon, he will think that I'm just as lame as Daddy is. Wait, no. Daddy's still funny too. You get the idea.