The small wonder started kindergarten this week. Here he is on the first day, with his giant backpack on.
Here is the side view, so you can see how monstrously out of proportion it is, compared to his tiny little body.
You might ask how it could possibly be necessary to burden such a small child with a bag that could easily hold him and a few of his friends. Go ahead. El Husbando already asked and he wasn't nearly as polite about it as you probably would be. The answer is, of course, winter. He doesn't need this much room now (although it was handy for sending in the towel, tissues, and baggies that he had to bring on Tuesday). But when the snow flies and he has to go school with his big old coat and his big old boots and a change of shoes and his lunch and (here's the clincher) his snow pants, then he'll need the big old bag too. Since my kids take snow pants to school pretty much from December straight through March, the mega-bag seems like a pretty good idea to me. Plus, these bags last forever, and I'm pretty sure he'll grow into it.
Here is Nathan doing his big brother thing.
This is the same child who has, on occasion, voluntarily (I kid you not: he actually noticed that these things needed doing and then did them) changed dirty diapers and taken care of the dog's morning walk so we could sleep in. So it should not have surprised me that he spent the first few school days finding Matty a seat on the bus and that he wrote himself a note (aptly entitled "Note to self") reminding himself to remind Matty of the signal the teacher gives when it's time for the kindergarteners to move to the transfer bus. On the back of the note was this, which was meant for Matty:
After all the to-do with sending the last child off to school, the natural question seems to be "what's it like?" To which I can only reply that it is Quiet. After 13 years of small children spending their days with me, this is an entirely foreign state of affairs. I think I like it. A lot. Right now it seems peaceful rather than lonely, and the witching hour at the end the day is easier to handle now that it doesn't follow hard on the heels of an entire day of dealing with little gremlins. Plus, I feel more like cooking dinner than I used to, although I'm sure that will wear off soon enough.
The biggest anticipated downside so far is this:
We came back from vacation to find it parked at the proposed site of our soon-to-be-built-if-we-can-get-over-the-zoning-issues barn. Right now it is doing a whole lot of nothing. But, should construction ever start, it and a few of its friends will be very busy doing all sorts of weird stuff. And that's when I'm going to miss my sidekick. One of my favorite things about little kids is how they think new stuff is so cool. For a very long time now, I've been saying "Hey [Emma/Isa/Nate/Matty], look at that!" Predictably, the child in question answers "cool!" Now something pretty cool is going to happen here, and all of my little external validators will be off at school and it makes me sad that I won't have someone to share the coolness with right then and there. The dog, being naturally inclined to people-pleasing, will try his best, but his reaction will probably take the form of loud and enthusiastic barking, which just isn't the same. The cats, who are already as cool as an animal can be, really couldn't care less.
In the knitting world, I joined a knit-along at the beginning of August. Below is the final product. As with my Undulating Scarf, it was great to work with my handspun, although I am undecided on the merits of the finished shawl. I like the border best, and I guess using my precious yarn on a scarf that isn't really my taste is still better than letting it languish in a drawer. Plus, I can now more easily justify buying more of the fiber when I go to Rhinebeck this year.
That's all, folks. I'm off to make good use of my new-found interest in home-cooked meals.