Remember December?

What do we remember about the season that's passed? J worked her fingers to the bone typing out the last of her essays, before surrendering to the haze of the holidays. M learned to wobble on ice, beneath the ridiculousness of an oversized helmet. J cut his hair short, again, and contemplated the spread of his forehead from a new angle. 

The days were surprisingly sunny, and E and his daddy built astonishingly stable forts on the beach, preparing for the inevitable date when E leaves home and lives off the land, like Alexander Supertramp before him. When the Christmas tree was up and decorated, M insisted upon having his photo taken in front of it, a callback to last year when Aunty K took shots of the daycare kids in front of the tree as take-home presents for their parents. It just goes to show what a kid will remember, and this season, although long passed, four months ago now, is still very much in our memories. 

Novembering

This is old news now. I mean, M has been three for what, nine years now? Ten? But seriously. Three is a big number. It's a milestone, when one and two are all the years you've hurdled. And it deserves a celebration like no other. It deserves a woodland theme, with fox and owl and bear masks, and a house full of people who will howl it up proper with you. And even it we're almost halfway through M's third year, it deserves a foxy blog post. 

If, however, you are born in February, it's a rare and balmy day that allows you to celebrate outdoors. So you take your kicks where you can, when you can. Like walking past a tourist photo-trap. See above, and below for that matter. E has always been a bit of a ham, and we love him for it. 

Experimenting

Here's an experiment. Take one boy and put cleats on his feet. Suit him up in shorts and a jersey. Give him a ball, face him at a net, and see what happens. Maybe he'll stand there, staring. Maybe he'll run in the opposite direction. Or maybe, just maybe, he'll make an effort to score a goal. If he does, he'll most likely miss. But maybe he'll keep coming back to that same net, with that same ball, and sooner or later, likely later, he'll score. 

Take the experiment to the next level. Take another boy, the first boy's younger brother, and put him on the same field. Don't bother giving him a ball or pointing out the net. Watch what happens. Bet you that little boy will show you he can kick just like his big bro. 

This experiment is not recommended. We do not recommend you leave two little boys, brothers, in the back seat of a car within reach of black Halloween face paint. The result is that one boy will likely take it upon himself to paint his brother, taking little care to avoid the eyes and hairline. The black paint will also become a permanent part of the interior ceiling of the car, where two victorious handprints will serve to remind you of the experiment, and your parental folly.