Staying Alive With Preschoolers

It's January.  Which for those of us who live in Northern Climes, the month that NEVER ends.

NEVER.

I think last January was 392 days long.

I have absolutely no scientific data to back this up, but I would venture a guess that this is the month that causes many a SAHM to pack it in and go back to work.

We are almost at the end of it.  Sprout starts Kindergarten in the fall.  I go back to work.  (I have no idea what I will be doing but it will be something part time.)  But I thought I would share with you all some of the things that got us through this month in the past.  Feel free to leave your killer suggestions in the comments.

Rice table.  I spread an old table cloth on the floor, fill a tub with rice and hand the kids a bunch of spoons, sieves, cars and what not and let them go to town.  It is messy, you will get rice on the floor, but it does kill at least an hour.

Baking.  My kids have done this so much that they pretty much can make muffins by themselves with me just supervising the cracking of the eggs and reading the directions.  We always have baked good in the freezer this way, it takes up time and it teaches them all kinds of useful skills like sneaking dough when mommy isn't looking, how to fish eggshells out of dough and how best to removed dough from cupboards when flung there by bored 2 year olds.

Painting With Water.  This is the red neck version of aqua doodle.  I give my kids a container of water, large sheets of construction paper and a paint brush.  It is a bit frightening how much my kids enjoyed this.  It's a sure sign we need to get them out more often.

Cutting:  The boys have spent HOURS and HOURS cutting pictures of of magazines and saving them for goodness knows what.  They also used to enjoy cutting things out and them gluing them into pretend houses drawn on large sheets of paper.  According to my kids, the best use of kitchen space is often a leafblower or a motor bike.

Penny drop.  To help my kids with their fine motor skills I cut a small slot in the top of a clean yogurt container and they had to pick up pennies with one hand and drop them in the container.  This also was a surprise hit.  If they grow up to be surgeons I'd like the credit for their killer dexterity.  I'd also like a bit of their money.

Obstacle Courses:  Our living room was often transformed into an obstacle course.  There was jumping (over wooden spoons) bouncing (over couch cushions) throwing (bean bags into empty garbage bins) and crawling (under a broom suspended by two chairs.)  It was great for gross motor and lots of fun.

Ice melt:  I fill a Styrofoam cup with a bit of water, and stick in an old plastic toy.  Then I freeze it and then give it to the boys to work together to melt and free the toy.  This is cold, but lots of fun.  The boys had a blast coming up with all the ways the warm the ice up faster.

We've also done sidewalk chalk in the unfinished basement, used washable markers on our windows, played clothespin games, painted till our arms fell off, taken long bubble baths in the middle of the day and made crafts by the pound.

What about you?  How do you get through January?

You Wanna Talk Distracted?

My province is considering distracted driver legislation. It has been rumoured to include things like texting, shaving while driving, talking on a handheld device, etc. If they really wanted to get to the heart of distracted driving though, they need to include getting into the car with my kids.

I used to think driving with a screaming baby was distracting. NOT EVEN A LITTLE compared to driving with Sir Talks a Lot and his sidekick Chatty- Chatty Kick Kick.

The other day on the freeway marked this little exchange:

SPud: My eye hurts.

Me: Bub, we're going really fast and there is no place to pull over. (Note, he was not crying or anything, so it was more a "I'm bored, let's make up a malady" kind of thing than a real emergency, so please don't call social scervices M'kay?)

Spud: But it HURTS. What should I do?

Me: Blink.

4.7 seconds later

Spud: It's not working!

Me: (While simultaneously changing lanes and silently cursing texting teenagers and the parents who give them cellphones) Just close your eyes.

Spud: But I will bump into things!!!!

Me: In your car seat?

Spud: At the house!!! I'll never see again!!!!!!

Me: (realizing again that drama is not limited to women) honey, it'll feel better soon. I promise.

A few more minutes of wondering if all drivers on the Deerfoot are blind and drunk.

Spud: My eye is better now.

Me: that's great!! I told you it would get better.

Spud: (with a derision usually only found in teenaged girls) I did not DO anything that you said. You didn't help at all. It just got better.

Insert few moments of correction regarding attitude.

Spud: My leg hurts. What do I do?

More than the Ocean

Dear Spud,

Today you started grade one. It was, by your account, a very good day. There was snack, you played at the play park and a friend was there from kindergarten. All that was missing was a computer game or two.

I put you on the bus this morning. Your eyes shone so bright as you sat there, your backpack nearly as big as you, so proud to be going by yourself. I thought it would be hard to wave goodbye, but your delight at this new adventure made me smile so much I forgot to cry.

I followed your bus to the school, all the while worrying a little. The traffic was quite heavy so you were on the bus for nearly an hour. What if someone picked on you, what if you were lonely, what if you got scared? What if?

And then you got off the bus and headed for the door. I think you'd grown another inch on the bus as that backpack didn't seem to dwarf you so much. You were so tall, so confident. You've never been there before on your own but you went into the building as if you'd been doing this all your life.

We worry about you sometimes. You are so sweet, and so innocent and so gentle. We are afraid that this world will take advantage of that. We forget that you are also determined, outgoing and resourceful. Today you showed me that you will be just fine.

I love you more than the ocean,

Mommy

In Which I Wear a Dress

On Saturday night I wore a dress.

For the first time in nearly two years.

I'm such a slacker when it comes to all things feminine.

But, our neighbour was celebrating his engagement, so I donned a dress and we went to join him. Along with every person he and his bride have ever met. Kidding. Sort of.

Our neighbour is Indo-Canadian and so we went to our first Sikh Ring Ceremony. There was a lot of food, lots of dancing and celebrating and the most beautiful saris I have seen in my life. I now want one. Except maybe not the bride to be's. Hers had to weigh a tonne it was so encrusted with bling. It was beautiful beyond measure, but that beauty would have come at a heavy price. Very heavy.

Being at the ceremony reminded me again why I love living in this city. We sat at a table with our neighbour's co-workers. There was a family from Guatemala, a Vietnamese couple, and a gentleman who immigrated from Hong Kong twenty years ago.

I am thrilled to be raising my kids in a city that isn't all white. They will learn about so many cultures and customs and all in their classroom just interacting with their friends.

My kids will learn early about racism. Not as an abstract concept but as something that greatly hurts their friends. It's hard to ignore something when it happens one desk over.

And that's the best learning of all.

How to Make a Larryboy Cake

1. Spend two months trying to convince son he'd actually like a different cake.

2. Discover son is even more strong willed than originally thought to be.

3. Come up with brilliant plan to have bakery do said cake.

4. Learn about Canada's rather strict copyright laws.

5. Pout.

6. Blog about it.

7. Decide to make cupcakes and put pictures of Larryboy on Popsicle sticks and stick them in the cupcakes. Thanks to brilliant idea from Mile Hi Mama.

8. Have blog read by father who is baker extraordinaire and Very Big Fan of his grandchildren. Very Big.

9. Let willing father make his grandson's cake.

10. Serve this masterpiece to a very happy birthday boy.

See, easy-peasy.

Thanks so much Dad!!

Normal

Because I know that I will be out of commission for a bit after the dumb surgery (which will henceforth be referred to as the DS) I have been cooking, cleaning, sorting and organizing like a crazy lady. Way Cooler refers to it as nesting. Except I have more energy than I did as a pregnant nester so the crazy is a little crazier than normal.

And if you know anything about my normal, you know it doesn't resemble the normal that normal people have. (If you are still reading after that sentence, you deserve a medal or something.)

So I've been ignoring all hobbies a bit but if I don't post something soon my dad is going to call and complain that the blog is getting dusty. And since he is a VERY good cook and likes to cook for me I do try to keep the man happy. I'll do anything for some ribs.

So I wanted to share a song that Sprout shared with me yesterday.

God God God is the cool cool est

He He He is the best

He is our protector

He helps us

He saved us from our sins

He died on the cross

And then everything was normal.

Maybe we need to brush up on our theology a bit.

And Now You are Four

Dear Sprout,

Tomorrow you turn four.

That's CRAZY.

People keep telling me to enjoy these days as they go so fast. It's really a bit unnecessary as I am totally aware that 5 minutes ago you were a squalling, fussy baby and now you are this slender preschooler with a dazzling wit and killer smile.

Your zest for life blows all of us away. To you, a stranger is just a friend you haven't met yet, every object higher than you is for climbing and silence means an opportunity to share. And share and share and share some more.

This year you've amazed us with how much you have learned just by watching and trying. You knew all the letters of the alphabet and their sounds right around your third birthday and recently started to write things. Without me ever instructing you. You just got tired of watching Spud-y "do school" and you wanted to too. You spied a two wheeler at a gym time one day, climbed on and you were off. No matter that it was really too big for you, you jumped on like you were born to ride. There isn't much you can't conquer.

You love a good time. All the time. Even when being disciplined you sport your trademark grin, complete with one cocked eyebrow. Living with you is one big party.

You are mischievous, full of personality and ALL BOY.

You make our family complete.

Happy Birthday Buddy.

Love,

Mommy

Swords

Thew other night I was rushing to make dinner after swimming lessons. The boys were sent upstairs to get their jammies on while I ran to my downstairs pantry** for some pasta.

Seriously, I DO know better than to leave those two unsupervised. Maybe the chlorine fumes were causing my brain to short circuit. As I was running up the stairs to check on my browning meat I heard a "thump, thump, thump". Which in this house isn't all that unusual of a sound. Because I have two VERY ACTIVE boys (one with my clumsy gene) falling down the stairs is a twice weekly experience. It is truly is a wonder that we've not yet broken any bones. And now that I have typed that, I will be posting pictures of their imminent casts next week.

Sure enough there was a sobbing boy at the bottom of my stairs. Without a stitch of clothes on. Also a more regular occurrence than the pre-child me would have deemed possible. Some days I really do feel as if I am running a nu*dist colony.

So I scooped him up, turned down the heat on the meat and headed to the couch for a cuddle. Part of me wanted to know why he was falling down the stairs wearing only socks and part of me was shouting "don't ask - you'll be sorry"

I ignored the voice. Becuase I am stupid like that.

"So buddy, what happened?"

"Spud and I were playing swords and he went to grab mine and I went down the stairs."

Warning bells were madly going off yet I continued.

"Swords? With what?"

Any guesses from those of you with boys?

Yep. The built in kind.

Which lead to me using the word pen*is for the 438th time this week and yet another talk I never once in a million year envisioned as I bought sleepers and planned out the nursery.

**Yes, I do have two pantries. Way Cooler is a we are big believers in stocking up on sales and buying in bulk. If we were stuck at home we could live for weeks on the cereal alone.

And Now I Shower at Midnight

The other day I snuck to the shower while the boys were playing nicely. Of course, that meant that they had to hunt me down as quickly as possible.

Sprout came in and we had the following conversation.

Sprout: Whatcha doing mommy?

Turns out, my first grade teacher was wrong. There ARE stupid questions.

HG: What does it look like I am doing?

Sprout: You is taking a shower.

HG: Yes, now go play.

Sprout: Can I watch ya?

HG: NO.

Sprout: Do you like your shower?

HG: I did.

It is at this point that I realize that my discipline options are currently limited, seeing as how I am n*aked and now have shampoo in my eyes. I just begin to hope that he will soon lose interest in talking to me.

Because I like to dream big.

Sprout: Do you pee in the shower?

HG: NO!!

Sprout. I do.

At this point I rinse, deal with my son and vow to wear flip flops while showering until he moves out.

Slip Sliding Away

It's amazing how much can change in a year. I took the boys sledding last year and nearly lost my mind. The clock may have said we were only out there twenty minutes, but really, the clock lied. It was 568 hours of crying, whining and sled flipping.

It's taken me a year to work up the nerve to do it again. Now, mind you, we didn't have snow for six of those months, but still, I was rather apprehensive about tobogganing again.

But something happened to change my mind.

This week we are in the midst of a Chinook!!!!!! Which is my very favoritest weather phenomenon. It was a big factor in our decision to move back to Calgary. Which made it rather tough when we didn't get one last year. Way Cooler was NOT impressed. He'd heard about them, believed me, and did not get to see one. It was almost too much to take for my favorite winter wimp warm weather guy.

There is still plenty of snow on the ground but it was five degrees (Celsius) out. It was too warm to NOT go sledding. And Way Cooler was working. Which meant that it was up to me. Because apparently social service takes a dim view of dropping your 3 and 5 year old at the hill and going to Starbucks. Which means social services has never gone tobogganing with preschoolers.

So I promised myself a big chunk of chocolate if when we made it home and loaded up the new Christmas sleds.

It was awesome.

We found an empty corner of a popular tobogganing hill, just perfect for small sledders and off we went. It was so warm that no appendages even got chilly. I even took my coat off. Yee haw.

They had the very best of times. When I am old I shall still remember small faces etched with glee as they took off down the "Very Big Hill". Sprout really got into it, which is quite amazing for the child who clung to me sobbing in terror last year. He even began to lie down in the sled as it shot down the hill. This most closely resembles luge. Without the helmet.

The only downside, the toboggans are really too big for small arms to carry back up the very big hill and the riders too unsteady to position themselves at the top. Which meant that mommy walked up and down the hill Every.Single.Time.

Who needs a personal trainer when you can toboggan with my babies? That's a lot of hill to go up and down and up and down and well, you get the picture. The very, very sore picture.

Good thing I had that hunk of chocolate.

And Never Brought To Mind

I had plans for a lovely and sentimental year in review.

It was to be beautiful.

But I also have strong willed children and (yes, both of them - I am TRULY blessed) and this week has been a bit of a war of the wills season of training and instead of writing I have been cleaning up excrement, physically helping 50 pound children to obey, talking, explaining, spanking, time-outting, hugging, washing pee-soaked clothes and praying.

Repeatedly.

So, imagine with me a gorgeously illustrated, well thought out litany of our accomplishments and joys.

And while you do that I will be bleaching my house.

Happy New Year.

The Bestest Christmas Concert Ever

As promised, I must tell you about Spud and Sprout's Christmas concert, but before I do I need to send a shout out to a hard-working blog designer.

Jackie from Memories by Design is one amazing chick. She is the one who designed Way Cooler's new blog. Which may not have been the easiest thing she has ever done. By a long shot. Way Cooler can be rather, um, precise in what he wants. Very, very precise.

She answered all his e-mails right away, did exactly what he wanted and then made revisions after revision, after revision, after precise revision . All while being exceedingly pleasant. Which is waaaay better than I would have done. If you ever need blog work done, I totally, totally recommend her.

Now about that concert. Spud was in a junior choir for the first time. He did a fantastic job. This is was a huge step for my son and way outside of his comfort zone. He rose to the challenge beautifully. We practised together so much that I may never get the songs out of my head but it was totally worth it seeing him up there on stage singing away.

It was totally a Hallmark moment.

Which stands in direct contrast to what had happened seconds earlier when Sprout sang with his Sunday School Class.

You know how in every concert there is a child who totally hogs the microphone, puts their hands down their pants and up then their nose and sings at the top of their lungs? The one who has to be moved way from the microphone for the second song?

This year it was my baby. I was SO PROUD. Or something like that. Did I mention that we attend one of the larger churches in our city? LOTS and LOTS of people got to see it.

LOTS.

And they were noticing. I could tell because the laughter ratcheted up a crescendo when he started to um, boogey.

Also a Hallmark moment.

P.S. Way Cooler is having a giveaway on his site. It turns out that while he has a good amount of traffic already financial blogs don't get the same kind of comment love as mommy blogs. Even when giving away Starbucks giftcards. So, if you head over, you stand a good chance of actually winning.

A Small Story

Once up on a time I had sent the boys upstairs to get their jammies on. They've been doing this fairly well for a few months now. I came up a minute or two later after tidying the kitchen. I rounded the corner at the landing and gazed at my precious baby who was just starting to urinate on my carpet.

On purpose.

I may have raised my voice just a little bit.

He stopped. Which is why he is still drawing breath today.

We then had ourselves a time of correction.

When asked why he was doing such a thing, he shrugged and grinned. Apparently one does not need a reason to use my hallway as a urinal.

Then we had the following conversation while I scrubbed urine out of my carpet. I do believe in having my kids clean up the messes they made, but I also believe in clean carpet. This is one thing I do myself.

"Mommy, I am sorry for peeing on your carpet."

" I forgive you."

"Mommy, you need to say you are sorry."

"Huh?"

"You was mad at me"

"I raised my voice to get you to stop your inappropriate behaviour. When we had our talk, mommy talked in a quiet voice. Mommy did not sin and she is NOT sorry that she disciplined you."

"I forgive you anyways."

And then my head exploded.

The end.

I Get by With a Little Help From My Friends

This week all three of my men have been sick. ALL WEEK. ALL THREE OF THEM.

We even lined up at the doctor's office for an offical diagnosis. It coughed like a pig, had a persistent fever like a pig and is lasting forever like a pig, but it's not a pig. It's a mild case of Pnemonia for poor Spud who is probably wishing he will never cough again.

Anyway, it certainly is not a cause for alarm, just no fun for those who have it.

However, this has been one of the easiest "sick times" we have had. I think it helps that I have a baseline to compare it to. Tough is when you have an infant and a barely two year old and all four of you have the tummy flu AND due to an incompetent plumber you are without running water for 36 hours. That's tough. This, not so much.


Plus I've had a lot of help from my friends.


Internet, meet my friends.

The medicine. Just in case you thought I was crunchy or something. Not even close. Natural- smatural. Bring on the drugs baby! We burned through our first Costco sized bottle of children's Advil in 2.5 days.




The games. This has actually been a lot of fun. Sprout is quite the gamer and to have all of us playing with him, he is pretty much in hog heaven. However, if I NEVER play Go Fish again, it will still be much too soon.


The sweatshirt. This is my favorite shirt, it's red, it fits just right, it's super comfy and I have been banned from wearing it in public. By numerous people. SO, I've been able to wear it ALL WEEK since we haven't gone anywhere. AWESOME. Just in case you were wondering, it was what all the staff wore one Christmas concert when I taught in Texas. I did not pick it out. My taste is a little dubious, but not quite that umm, bold.

The Youtube playlist. My kids are nuts about the Salsa Twins. If I go near the computer they clamour to check Ree and Ro's blog. When I told them the girls had picked out their favorite Youtube videos and we could watch them too they were utterly delighted. It's killed many hours this week. Because what could be better than an operatic orange?

The stash. When my kids are sick, behaviours I was certain we had addressed and eradicated come back. ALL OF THEM. So, yes, that is a bag of cheese curls hidden in my laundry room. Don't judge me. Please.

It's good to have friends.

The Hole Story

There are many great mysteries in life.

Stonehenge. Why people enjoy watching Cricket. Man's true purpose. Why little boys must wear the knees out on their pants.

I do not have the answers to the questions, but I do have a solution for one of the problems raised by these mysteries.

Sears Kidvantage.

Sears rather foolishly guarantees all their kids clothes. If a child wears it out before they outgrow it, they will replace the item for free.

Repeatedly.

It's enough to make a mom of little boys do a cartwheel at the cash register. Except that would lead to a visit from the paramedics and who has time for that?

Anyway, last year at Christmas time I bought Spud three pairs of pants from Sears. I cringed at the price as I am much more accustomed to buying things from clearance racks and second-hand stores. However, second hand pants with the knees intact for the 3-7 year old set are about as common as a keg party at a Southern Baptist Convention. And pants from clearance racks still lose their knees in about a month in this house.

So, I bought the pants, paying nearly 40 dollars for three pairs. It has been worth every last penny as we have replaced those pants 12 times in less than a year. Yep. I go pretty much once a month and they give me a new pair. Spud wore one pair less than five times before we were back getting new ones. It means that I have paid less than 2 dollars for each pair that we have worn through. And he still isn't done. I noticed last night his jeans have a day or two left in them. At best. There's a lot to be said for slow-growing children, more time to totally abuse take advantage of this money-saving program.

There are other retailers that offer this program as well. Which is a good thing as Sears may be forced to cancel their program because of us. So, if you have little boys, and Nana wants to know what to get them for Christmas, now you have a suggestion. Pants from Sears. Truly the gift that just keeps on giving.

Overflowing

My boys are good at many things. Talking, hugging, singing and spilling. They are especially good at spilling. I must sweep after every meal and at least three times a week (on a good week) a full glass of milk is spilled at mealtimes.

This is an area where I am struggling to be patient in. You see, we have hardwood floors. Yes they are beautiful, but only when clean. And mine stay clean for 2.5 seconds once a week. I read a post recently where an amazing single gal was day dreaming about dancing on her hardwoods with her future hubby. I too dream about my hardwoods, Way Cooler and I, only we are ripping up the stupid things and replacing them with linoleum like God intended for homes with young men.

Last Tuesday I had just cleaned all morning because we host our caregroup every Tuesday night. So, at lunch both boys spilled full glasses of milk on the floor. To say I was a little upset is like saying the Mississippi is a small creek.

I was a ball of fussing, grumping resentment.

But then a voice reminded me of what I had prayed for that very morning.

A heart overflowing with thanksgiving.

Mine wasn't even beginning to drip.

So, as I cleaned the milk, I practised that which I wanted.

Thank-you that I have boys to spill this milk.

Thank-you for milk to spill.

Thank-you for more milk to refill the cups.

Thank-you for a floor to spill it on.

Thank-you for a husband who works so hard to provide milk and floors.

Thank-you for strong arms to clean this spill.

Thank-you that my boys are able to receive correction and can be trained to change the behaviours that caused the spill.

Thank-you for grace.
Grace that forgives an angry momma and allows to her to extend it to her boys so that milk is not the only thing overflowing today.

Thank-you.

Maybe Three Isn't So Bad

The other day I was holding Sprout in my arms for a little face to face chat about some behaviours that I wanted to um, modify.

When our chat was done he told me to hold out my hand. This is fairly common around here ever since Spud read The Kissing Hand in school. He told Sprout about it and Sprout really latched onto the whole concept. I am often asked to hold out my hand so that Sprout can kiss it and then proclaim, "This is my love for you."

Pleased that he was still OK with me even after our um, chat, I did. He kissed my hand and said, "this is love." I went to put him down, but a little hand gently grabbed my face and held it while he kissed my forehead. "This is love."

Then my neck, nose, cheeks, lips and shoulder. After each proclaiming, "This is love."

It is buddy. It sure is.

Sprout Sez

I posted a few weeks ago that we are experiencing THREE round these parts. Some of you gently suggested this may not be age, but rather personality.

I'm choosing to ignore this wisdom. I'm still holding out that this is JUST A PHASE and come March or so, it will all be gone.

Nothing like a little blind optimism to get one through the day.

In the meantime, for your chuckling pleasure, may I share with you more examples of why I don't get anything done around here, just too busy "training."

Sprout is still sucking his thumb. We have determined based on his personality that it's now just a habit, he doesn't really need it for comfort and we are going to help him break the habit before his orthodontic needs break our budget. The other day I looked in the rear view mirror and saw his hand up around his face.

HG: "Sprout, thumb."

Sprout (With all the indignation a three year old can muster) "my thumb is not in my mouth, my finger is up my nose."

Well, then, carry on.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

In an effort to re-channel some energy while drying him off after a bath I asked him if he could sing me a song.

He replied that he could not.

15 seconds later he burped. Then he turned to me and said, "I burped. That is my song for you."

Isn't he precious?

---------------------------------------------------------------

He was repeatedly tattling on his brother and came downstairs while I was washing dishes to report yet another insanely minor annoyance. I was getting rather frustrated. So I decided to count to ten in my head to cool down before I asked yet again if he had used his steps.

I hadn't made it to three when he was off again, hollering "Hey Spud, Mommy wants to talk to you."

Nothing like a little proactivity. That's my Sprout. He gets the job done. Even if there is no job to do.

But then, every so often he looks at me and smiles and says "I love you mommy. You are my friend." He smiles his million watt smile and I totally forget why I was correcting him.

Mission accomplished.

You Know You Might be A SAHM

You know you might be a SAHM if...

- Grocery shopping alone is one of your favorite things to do.

- You wear the knees out of your jeans at least once a year.

- You know the words to every silly song ever written.

- Due to constant exposure to incorrect pronunciations you have lost the ability to pronounce the th blend and now say free instead of three and frow instead of throw.

- Your idea of dressing up is your good jeans.

- You have memorized the recipe for play dough.

- You know all the playgrounds in a five mile radius and have named most of them based on features found there.

- You always shower with an audience.

- You ask the hostess at a restaurant where the potty is, even when you don't have your children with you.

- You've got the Treehouse schedule memorized.

- Poop no longer grosses you out.

- You have at least five children's books memorized. Front to back and back to front.

-Peeing alone is something you look forward to.

What else?

That's it, He Can't Go

Spud starts school next Tuesday. I DID NOT think I woud be as emotional about this as I am. I thought it wouldl just be a celebration ofo the big boy he's become. But this past week I've turned into a weepy mess whenever I think about that baby being gone every day.

Then the following conversation occured today after a big tickle fest.

HG: I love you buddy. I'm sure gonna miss you when you go to school.

Spud: Oh, don't worry mommy, I will always come back to you.

I may stop crying sometime in October.