A stomach bug off

Ken: Age 4

A rite of passage age -- that's what four is. It's admission to school. It's permission to attend the kid's homily thing at Mass. It's the beginning of a real dose of Tylenol. It's the entrance ticket to the Richfield Burger King Play Land. And, for me, age four marked a knock-out, kick-me-while-I'm-down, not-sure-what-day-it-is-and-really-don't-care stomach bug. Darn pre-school germs.

Sam: Age 2

Yesterday, Sam and I hopped our Strider bikes for our nightly jaunt to the park with Georgia and Mom. I made it half way down the street before caving to the demands of my healing bod. I asked Mom for the wagon. We did an about-face, climbed up the drive, and busted out the trusty Radio Flyer. I'm not gonna lie: It was heavenly.

I lay cuddled with my blue car blanket, face-up -- staring skyward -- letting the 68 degree evening air brush across my face and over the back of the wagon. Feeling so ... taken care of.

Georgia: Age 1

The wagon's really nothing special. It's creaky. Bumpy. Chipped. The handle is bent in two places. Mom hooks a baby swaddle strap through the handle, wears it like a poor-man's harness, and hauls us around. Most of the time, she's pulling me and Sam while pushing Georgia-and-stroller. Quite the mode.

But this wagon, let me tell you, this wagon is our way to better places. Destinations. With Mom at the helm, we experience the library, the park, the DMV, the farmer's market. And, every time, we're carried along our journey in grace and style. The wagon moves beyond our abilities, lifts us to places not gotten to on our own, lets us feel so ... taken care of.

The Radio Flyer
(plus hops, of course)

And I wonder, as I continue to navigate this journey called life -- where can I find my Radio Flyers? We all must have them. Be they people, hobbies, family, traditions: These Radio Flyers let us power through life's experiences. Our Radio Flyers allow us to cave to the demands of our healing selves, be lifted beyond our abilities, and feel ... taken care of.

I found a few stars on the way home. Stomach bug and all: Looking at the sky. Just me and the moon and my Radio Flyer.

Peace and good thoughts to you,
Ken

The final four four time

Ken: Age 4

A mom's perspective: Ken is four today. Four years ago today: Five days ahead of my due date, in the hospital, officially a mom. Feeling amazingly blessed. Tired. Wondering what I'd just gotten myself into. It's four years later: Feeling amazingly blessed. Tired. Wondering what I've gotten myself into. He's in school now. Counting on other adults, and his peers, to help him grow. It's nerve-wracking and necessary. All at the same time. He's sweet. And serious. His teacher tells me that he's really good at sharing. He wants to know the rules. Then he'll push them until they're almost broken. Almost. He tells Sam what to do. Then he makes sure Sam's okay with that action plan. He makes Georgia laugh. His giggle makes me laugh right along with him. Ask him for a hug, and he'll turn sideways and lean in, awkward and natural at the same time. He asks good questions. Listens. Blows out the devotional candles at church. Asks to drive the car. Sings his prayers. Chases bunny rabbits. Loves his bike helmet. Needs his down time. Tucks his stuffed animals in at night. Chooses carrot cake for his birthday. Reminds me of what's important. Four years ago today: And life is good.

Down the road and back to school

First day of school: Me and Mom

Wouldn't you know it ... I did it. Not even four yet, and I'm a pro at this back to school business. Watch out, world: Three mornings per week, with my apple name tag and bright blue tote, preschool is Where. It's. At.

I was surprised to learn that I'd be at school by myself. Dad explained this concept a few days before the start of my scholastic journey. I had expressed my excitement at all going to school together, to which Dad responded, "Ken," he said, "You can actually go to school by yourself. Dad, Georgia and Sam will drop you off, you'll go to school, and then we'll pick you up again when school's done."

Well, I had to mull this over. Sam and I are a packaged deal these days, and to go somewhere without him was slightly disconcerting. Near the end of the day, after a few sibling squabbles and a slight dip in Dad's kid-patience, I declared my position: "Dad," I said, "When I go to school by myself, I will miss you a little. But not too much."

Sibling support: Sam & Georgia

Now two weeks in, I reflect on that first day ... the first week, even ... and I'm struck with the a few notions:

1. Once in preschool, holding mom's hand is optional. Mom tried, for sure, to keep her grasp as we walked into school that first day, but I wiggled out of it and ran ahead of her --so thrilled was I to finally enter the world of academic bliss. 
2. Making friends is relatively straightforward. Say hello. Be ready to laugh. Share often. Abiding these principles has landed me a few amigos: Oliver, Decklin and Tilly. Together, we're figuring out this business of letters, numbers, turn-taking and sharing. So far so good.
3. New vocabulary abounds. I've learned new phrases, such as, "Oh my goodness gosh," and "After-when we do this, then we'll do that." I've also learned the importance of announcing when I have to go to the bathroom, so that my temporary absence is not misunderstood. I've carried all of these learnings home with me, and Sam appreciates the apprenticeship.

You're guaranteed updated reports as the weeks unfold. Until then, peace out, dear readers. School's in session, and it's time for me to shine.

Ken

Jigsaw puzzle pieces of summertime

Ken: Age 3

Ken here: With an official report of summertime. The state fair has officially come and gone; the scent of back to school is in the air, and, until today, it's been just hot enough to make one admit that they'd rather suck on a Popsicle than do anything productive outside.

Oh, how I've missed penning to you, my readers. It's been quite the spring and summer. Allow me to share with you some pieces: From northern Minnesota family reunions to mosquito-filled Fourth of July, and from Aunt Val's four-wheelers to three-person bike rides around the park, I just have so much to tell you.

Georgia's first birthday

My baby sister is one year old. She walks. For real now. What used to be two, three steps before reverting to the comfort of the ab-crunching bear crawl, has turned into a full-fledged, high-steppin' only-trip-over-my-feet-sometimes, toddler walk. Sam and I are so proud of her. She's got a mouth full of teeth, stick-straight auburn hair, and a high-pitched scream that demands your attention and your prompt response. Go, Georgia, go.

We planted marigolds around the house - me and Dad. Beautiful. Fat blossoms with thick, sturdy stems, growing just tall enough to nod hello in the afternoon wind-shine. Lately, the sticky-sweet heat has gotten the best of most of our outdoor plants (save for the hops trellis in the backyard). Most are dry, a bit brittle, and look a bit like well-cooked bacon on a Saturday morning. And today, I couldn't help but ask, "Dad, why are your flowers so crispy?"

Sam: Age 2

Sam is the master of his throne lately. I officially bequeathed my blue potty chair to Sam, and own it, he has. After the token two weeks of learning what it means to actually pee his pants, I will say that Sam's become a pro. He drops trou, aims well, dumps the contents of the little pot into the big pot, flushes, and bellows a proper adieu to his respective waste. Milestone: met. As the more seasoned of the short-statured-potty-goers in the house, I stand in joyful solidarity with Sam at every exclamation of "Goodbye, poop! Seeya, pee!" Such sweet independence.

Cousin Colleen and Mom

A recent highlight: Cousin Colleen came to visit. From the Hill of Washington, D.C. to our humble hangout of Richfield MN, we introduced her to our local favorites. Did you know that The Nook now serves its famous Juicy Lucy basement level? And, the Blue Stem Bar and Table sports a flight of red wine that contains a very specific, life-changing sample? While we young ones did not accompany the cousin and the 'rents on this tour of greasy food and good alcohol, we still managed to strut our stuff by leading the way through the Saturday morning waffle routine, to the nearby park, and into the overall cacophony of three children ages three, two and one. Come visit any time, Colleen! We. Heart. You.

Time is marching on, and I'm growing right along with it. Yesterday, a quick study of my hand tells me that my pinky is catching up. I reported the finding to Mom; she seemed equally impressed.

School officially starts tomorrow! Pre-school here I come.

Until next time, dear readers,
Ken