Front Row Seat

We're in the homestretch of the road project in front of our house. At least I hope we are. I've been telling myself that for the last 3 weeks.  Our sidewalk and driveway are finally done, and the road is supposed to be tarred on Tuesday (although I won't really believe that until I see it).

It's been long enough now that all of the construction guys know Charlie by name. He takes his little chair and frequently watches them work, talks with them when they are between tasks, and dreams about which job he would most like to do when he grows up. (He has decided on being the guy in boots who gets to walk through the fresh cement, smoothing it out as he goes).  The excavators have lost their appeal for Charlie, but I fully expect the tarring process to be exciting enough to hold his attention once again. We might have to watch that one from inside, though.

 

One of the guys, thinking for a minute that I lived in the house next door to ours, commented that our "neighbors to the south" have quite the singer on their hands. Confused, I said there was no house to the south of us. When he realized that we lived in that house, he pointed at Charlie and said, "Oh! Is he the singer? We heard someone belting from two blocks away and said, 'Sounds like there's the next American Idol.'" It could have very easily been either Charlie or Elena. When I told the kids about it, both of them said, "That was me."

Shooting the breeze

Frankie is walking!

Frankie took his first steps at about 10 months old, which was the same age Charlie was when he took his first steps. Initially, he seemed to have a preference for walking outside on the concrete. Now he is practicing his new skill inside and out, much to our delight. He no longer spends all day trying to get one of us to hold his hands and walk him around. He still has an affinity for climbing things so the stairs have been blocked off, and we try to keep the step-stools put away to avoid a sprained arm like the one Sam got at this age from climbing up a stool and falling off.

Not to overshadow Frankie's accomplishments, but you can get a glimpse of Seth's latest work in this video as well (more pictures to come). He made the island out of a black walnut tree that one of his clients cut down a couple of years ago. I love that this island was not only built by Seth but was built from a local tree at that. It astounds me what he can envision and create entirely on his own. 

 And this from a man who didn't think he was smart going through elementary and high school because his strengths didn't lie in reading and writing, which translated to poor grades.  I find myself getting more and more frustrated with our school system that tests and rewards only a very limited type of intelligence, creating a constant struggle and false sense of inferiority in those whose strengths lie elsewhere. Too bad they don't test spacial or interpersonal intelligence on the ACTs. Seth might have gotten a full ride to college.

To see a "before" shot of what the kitchen looked like, here's a video of Charlie and Sam unloading the dishwasher that I shared on the blog 2 years ago:

 

"Squints"

That's what Seth calls Sam on occasion.  I have no idea why.....

Not only do Sam and the Sandlot character have the same glasses and prefer to wear their caps backwards, but they also both love baseball. I just hope Sam never pulls a stunt like that scene at the pool (although I honestly wouldn't put it past him).

Here are a few more snippets from his summer of fun on the baseball field with friends and two cousins:

What must the neighbors think....

Who needs pockets? 

For that matter, who needs pants?

(those are my sunglasses and a hammer, in case you can't tell)

In other news, Charlie had his first visit to the ER this weekend. It was nothing too major, but it wasn't the most convenient timing. Then again, when is a trip to the ER ever convenient?

We were at a wedding dance, and Charlie had asked if he could climb up onto the stage with the bridal party's table. I told him no, and he listened until he noticed some other kids crawling around under the table about a half hour later.  I guess he couldn't resist after that. Just as the dance was getting going, I heard a cry over the music and 400 voices in the room (it was a large wedding), and headed to the rescue. There I found Sam trying to help Charlie who was crying under the table, bleeding from his knee, and a bit tangled in the lights used for decorations. He must have scraped his knee on a nail or something sharp on the floor.  Several people looked at it and thought it would probably require stitches.  Since we only had the one vehicle and didn't know how long the ER visit would take, the entire family got to tag along.  

Charlie was a trooper and cooperated very well. The rest of the kids did as well, too, for that matter.

I think we gave the people in the waiting room some entertainment, and the nurses were impressed. They were able to patch him up just using glue, but of course we had missed the dance by the time it was all done. 

Having been a parent for 9 years, I've learned a thing or two and I was able to resist the urge to rub salt on his wound by scolding "I told you to stay off the stage!!" I did once ask if he remembered that I had told him to stay off, and he did, but I left it at that. I don't know that he needed the reminder, though. Several times at the hospital, on the ride home and before tucking him into bed, he said in the sweetest little voice, "I'm sorry for going on the stage. I didn't mean to get a cut. I promised not to go on the stage and then I did. I'm sorry, Mama." I was hopeful this would mark a turn-around point where he would start listening a bit better when we tell him not to do something. So far, this has not been the case: he still comes back with, "But I won't get hurt! See?" 

Oh well. The best I can hope is that the message is buried in there somewhere and will someday come to mind and prevent him from serious injury....