Preschool!

Oh, the day I've worried about all summer... sending Owen back to preschool.  My worry was worthless, as usual God would point out.  Owen was all brave this morning, and I was my typical emotional self.  Well, he was all brave except for the one time he said, "I really don't want to go to preschool because I love you so much, and I would miss you."  Oh... how he knows the way to my heart! 

Chloie had to get her backpack on to walk Owen to school because she thought for sure she was staying at Mrs. Jodi's too.  My favorite part was how she put it on then looked around the side, "Where's my map?" she asked.  Oh, too much Dora around here I suppose!

A little bit serious before heading over to preschool.

Then a little bit silly before heading over to preschool.

When we picked up Owen, Chloie pushed through the other kids to get to her bubby and give him a giant hug.  Owen kind of returned the hug.  I don't think she was missed as much as he was.

And this silliness is just from yesterday, but I love their expressions in these two pictures.

Little Stories to Remember

Chloie is such a chatter box lately.  She talks my ear off, and when I get tired of listening she'll move onto books and read them out loud over and over again.  I've been terrible about recording some of the things she says, but found a moment to write down a little bit yesterday.

As I'm putting away dishes, Chloie brings me a bowl from her kitchen and says, "Here, Mommy, I made you soup."

"Oh, thank you."  I reach for it, but she pulls back.

"No, it's really hot.  You have to wait.  I'll cool it off."  She blows it for a bit.

"Here, Mommy.  It's cooled down."

"Ok."  I take the bowl while standing, but she grabs it back again.

"No, you have to sit back.  You will make a mess.  Sit at the little table."

So..... I abandon my own kitchen duties (for the fifth time this morning) and go sit at her little table.

Again, I reach for the the bowl, but she stops me pulling back with a look of disgust as if she's told me a hundred times, "No...... scoot in.  You will spill."

So here I sit sipping my cooled soup with my feet neatly jammed beneath a tiny table scrawling down our conversation with crayons and scraps of paper.  I just want to remember exactly the way my sweet Chloie says things in her own little way.

And if she's run out of stuff to say for the moment, she'll start saying, "Don't be such a four-wheeler, duuuuuud, Mom."  Or "Let's get some barbecue."  Both said with this southern twang that comes from..... I don't know where??  The first being a quote from one of Owen's favorite Trucktown books.  The second something Owen and Matt always say after church as we pass by a questionable looking barbecue eatery.

And for Owen.....  Unfortunately for me, this was the only story worth writing down this morning...

We were in the car earlier when Owen asks me, "Mom, did you toot?"

"Uh...  yeah, sorry buddy."

"That's ok."

Thirty seconds later.... his window rolls down.  With the following explanation:

"I did that, Mom, so you don't have to smell that anymore."

"Ok, thanks, Owen......"