While Steve was out of town for a work conference in Davis, I was left responsible for all the things Steve normally does. Most important among them: feeding the children. Totally failing to have a meal plan for that first night, I decided to take the boys out to dinner at a local pizza/pasta joint.
They were delighted by the idea of having a Shirley Temple to drink but, because I clearly raised them wrong, they found the drinks too sweet.
Henry's favorite part was dessert, a chocolate chip cookie sundae, which he is NOT sharing:
Jack's favorite part was the pesto pasta, which he refused to stop eating, even after we'd packed up the to-go containers:
Jack has been asking to return to the restaurant, but has made it very clear he wants broccoli and mushrooms in his pasta next time (which he saw in a picture on the menu and was very perturbed I didn't order).
Without their early-rising father to deal with their morning antics, the boys were left to harass me until I got out of bed. Unfortunately for me, they are now tall and coordinated enough to climb into Steve's and my platform bed. When I tried to get Henry to stop messing up the bookshelves next to the bed with a plaintive, "I promise there's nothing exciting up there," Henry rolled his eyes at me and countered, "Everything's exciting to a kid!"
I also tried to buy their compliance by taking the boys out for ice cream. As you can see, Jack was very impressed:
It undermines the sulk somewhat when there's still star-shaped sprinkles clinging to one's mouth.
Henry, clearly overjoyed:
With me running around trying to do all the things Steve normally does as well as my standard daily tasks, Henry commented thoughtfully, "It seems a lot of work to have kids."
I found the differences in the way the boys completed this assignment interesting, Henry left, Jack right:
Henry is very meticulous with his independent writing and drawing, but Jack takes a lot more time with his class worksheets.
I found this on my organizing white board... I think the boys have been quarreling...
They also like to label things around the house, which I think has gotten just a tad out of hand:
The joy of their first book faire:
Jack picked a Pokemon book and one about predators (complete with life-size bear claw). Henry picked the two fuzziest and most colorful books he could find (both journals).
As Henry was clutching his fuzzy books at the faire, a girl came up to him and demanded, "why do you have girl things?" Henry said nothing and sidled up next to me. The girl was gone before I could start in on my (gentle) speech that different people can like different things, and there should be no girl things or boy things, only things people like, etc. Hopefully I've said it enough to Henry that he can defend himself, if he choses to. Not conforming to the expectations of the world is hard.
Henry shows off his hair chalk and nail polish:
Jack shows off his hair chalk (and lack of nail polish):
Jack is more than happy to paint other peoples' nails, but doesn't like to have his painted.
Silly Jack and if-looks-could-kill Henry:
Beach break during a bike ride with their dad:
Out of the blue, Jack announced to me one day that he wanted me to be his "best parent" on the following day. He then explained that each day he has a best parent, the one he cares about the most, and he hopes tomorrow will be my day. I really wasn't sure what to say to that one. I definitely can't compete with Steve.
At the last soccer class of the season, the boys chase down the ball (Henry in red, Jack with neon yellow socks):
They had a wonderful coach who made learning some of the basics of the game really fun. I was astonished that the coach not only kept control of the energetic group, but had every kid's name memorized from the moment they were introduced.
Visiting Branciforte Creek (just feet from the field) after soccer:
Steve takes some artistic pictures of Jack near the creek:
Jack takes posing seriously:
We spent Thanksgiving this year at my parents' cabin in the San Jacinto Mountains. The boys were absolutely delighted, and have been asking to go back ever since we got home.
Jack, Henry and Grandma play games:
The boys work on memorizing their sight words with Dad:
The boys' teacher also assigned them a calendar of small projects and discussion prompts for November, including one that asked them to name their favorite animal and why. Henry said he'd like to be a giraffe "because they can reach anything they want to eat" (I guess he's bitter that the ice cream is out of his reach in the freezer). Jack said he wanted to be a hamster "so I could stay up all night and see what is going on." I expect he'd be less than impressed with the true answer as to what goes on in the house at night... exhausted parents scroll through YouTube until it's late enough to go to bed.
The boys were pleased to be given some old Happy Meal toys to play with. Their favorites were the transforming food.
Jack with transforming fry robot (and a preview of this years' Christmas shirt):
Henry reluctantly joins with his transforming fry dinosaur:
Henry shows off his Lincoln Log creation:
Jack is ready to go outside:
Rocks, sticks and sledding on the tiny bit of icy snow clinging to the ground were all very exciting, but the highlight was definitely using the log splitter.
Henry and Grandma transfer the split wood to the wagon to transport to the pile:
Jack, hard at work:
Henry, most gleeful operator of heavy machinery ever:
We drove "into town" (Idyllwild) for the annual tree lighting ceremony. While there, the boys had to demonstrate that they were ready to rescue Grandpa, should the need arise:
On the subject of Grandpa, Jack (who has been suffering dulled hearing from constant fall colds plugging his ears) dumped a large quantity of syrup on his morning pancakes and proudly announced, "I'm like Grandpa because I eat a lot of syrup and I can't hear!" It was definitely meant to be a complement.
Tree, lit:
After a long day in the mountains, time for stories before bed:
Onward we go to the most wonderful time of the year... to be constantly sick.
When we got Bruce from the shelter, he was about a year old and had languished in the shelter for eight months. Though I thought he was plenty adorable, his shyness and plain coat didn't manage to attract any adopters. When he was put on the euthanasia list at the shelter (I was a volunteer there at the time), I brought him home. 
He had incredibly soft fur, but absolutely hated being touched. For the most part, we just let him hang out and do his bunny thing in peace... well, it was peaceful until the small humans were born when Bruce was five years old.
