Megan's First Day of Preschool

From The Onion:

CARPENTERSVILLE, IL—Local first-grader Connor Bolduc, 6, experienced the first inkling of a coming lifetime of existential dread Monday upon recognizing his cruel destiny to participate in compulsory education for the better part of the next two decades, sources reported.

"I don't want to go to school," Bolduc told his parents, the crushing reality of his situation having yet to fully dawn on his naïve consciousness. "I want to play outside with my friends."

While Bolduc stood waiting for the bus to pick him up on his first day of elementary school, his parents reportedly were able to "see the wheels turning in his little brain" as the child, for the first time in his life, began to understand how dire and hopeless his situation had actually become.

Basic math—which the child has blissfully yet to learn—clearly demonstrates that the number of years before he will be released from the horrifying prison of formal schooling, is more than twice the length of time he has yet existed. According to a conservative estimate of six hours of school five days a week for nine months of the year, Bolduc faces an estimated 14,400 hours trapped in an endless succession of nearly identical, suffocating classrooms.

This nightmarish but undeniably real scenario does not take into account additional time spent on homework, extracurricular responsibilities, or college, sources said.

"I can't wait until school is over," said the 3-foot-tall tragic figure, who would not have been able, if asked, to contemplate the amount of time between now and summer, let alone the years and years of tedium to follow.

The concept of wasting a majority of daylight hours sitting still in a classroom when he could be riding his bicycle, playing in his tree fort, or lying in the grass looking at bugs—especially considering that he had already wasted two years of his life attending preschool and kindergarten—seemed impossibly unfair to Bolduc. Moreover, sources said, he had no idea how much worse the inescapable truth will turn out to be.

Shortly after his mommy, homemaker Ellen Bolduc, 31, assured him that he would be able to resume playtime "when school lets out," Connor's innocent brain only then began to work out the implication of that sentence to its inevitable, soul-crushing conclusion.

When pressed for more detail on the exact timing of that event, Mrs. Bolduc would only reply "soon." At that point, the normally energetic child grew quiet before asking a follow-up question, "After [younger sister] Maddy's birthday?" thereby setting the stage for the first of thousands of rushing realizations he will be forced to come to grips with over the course of his subsequent existence.

Madison Ellen Bolduc was born on Sept. 28.

After learning that the first grade will continue for eight excruciating months beyond that date, it was only a matter of time before Bolduc inquired into what grade comes after first grade, and, when told, would probe further into how many grades he will have to complete before allowed to play with his friends.

The answer to that fatal question—12, a number too large for Bolduc to count on the fingers of both hands—will be enough to nearly shatter the boy's still-forming psyche, said child psychology expert Eli Wasserbaum.

"When you consider that it doesn't include another four years of secondary education, plus five more years of medical school, if he wants to follow his previously stated goal to grow up to be a doctor like his daddy, this will come as an interminably deep chasm of drudgery and imprisonment to [Connor]," said Wasserbaum. "It's difficult to know the effect on his psychological well-being when he grasps the full truth: that his education will be followed by approximately four decades of work, bills, and taxes, during which he will also rear his own children to face the same fate, all of which will, of course, be followed by a brief, almost inconsequential retirement, and his inevitable death."

The first of Bolduc's remaining 2,299 days of school will resume at 8 a.m. tomorrow. On the next 624 Sundays, he will also be forced to attend church.

Megan makes Henry laugh

The Fat of the Land

So, I think it is time to admit that I failed as a gardener this year. It was my first attempt, and I really made no effort to learn what I was doing -- I figured I was a natural. I wasn't.

Here is my garden at it's peak, before the decline set in. My big mistake, among many little mistakes, was being too ambitious with my plot of ground. Who knew squash plants would get to be so big [bottom left]?


My garden ended up being a test for the "survival of the fittest" principle, as my beans strangled my cucumbers, my tomatoes overshadowed my peppers, and my squash got eaten by a wild animal. We did get a few tomatoes, a sour cucumber and a premature pepper. At least we made BLTs with the tomatoes.

So yesterday Kim had the great idea of going to a real farm -- you know, where they have generations of carefully preserved planting knowledge (is it my fault my dad is a dentist?)-- and picking some of their vegetables. As with most of our adventures, at 9:45 Kim came up with the idea, and at 10:15 we were on the road for an hour and a half drive out to wherever.

When we got there, we first settled into some good ol' fashioned country cooking.


Alright, most of it it really wasn't very good. It's taken a year, but we've finally come to the conclusion that Virginians just don't know how to cook. If I order a burger on a farm, I don't expect Kraft singles, a frozen patty and wonderbread.

At least this apple dumpling was tasty.


Then it was out to the fields, where I taught our two little ingrates what it means to work for your food.




Actually, the kids stayed with me for about seven minutes before Kim announced that it was too hot for them, and headed off to take pictures.





Meanwhile, I was still off sweating in the fields (you'll probably have to enlarge this one to see me way over there, all by myself, up to my elbows in good earth.)


It was a lot of work -- and I may have fallen in an irrigation ditch -- but I did find the last 25 blackberries on the farm.


I also got some beans, a watermelon, a few apples and some hard nectarines.


I'm sure that next year my own garden will put this small haul to shame.

Henry 4 Month Update

This week we've had several people ask to see an update on Henry, so here it is:



For those who can't easily access this video or watch it with sound -- these pictures convey the gist of it.

He is rolling onto his side, and can almost get to his stomach


He is grabbing at his toes, and his legs have chunked up substantially


He is smiling and laughing a lot, especially at his sister


Henry uses his hands quite well, has untucked his thumbs, and likes to play with his binky and anything else he can stick in his mouth



And he even sucks his thumb sometimes



On a related note -- I just remembered I had a dream last night that Henry was talking. His first words were, "Henry Frost," so of course I whipped out the camera so I could document it for the family, and he started repeating everything I said. Then I called Grandma to let her hear it in person, and when I said, "Say goodbye," Henry said, "Goodbye, Grandma," meaning that he wasn't just mimicking me, he knew what he was talking about.

A little Stephen Hawking, indeed.


P.S.

Megan is also doing well.


And she is still an excellent and eager big sister