Bubby can read!

Bubby recently graduated from pre-school, with plans to move on to kindergarten this fall.

Having a mother who's a teacher means Bubby has the privilege of private tutoring sessions to prepare him for the new school year. Here is one of his first lessons with teacher Megan, er, Mommy:

My, how time flies. Seems it wasn't that long ago that I posted photos of my precious grandson playing with his poop. Now he reads — unquestionably, a more pleasant pursuit.

Today's question:

Who was instrumental in helping you learn to read?

Boys in a Batman pool

Bubby and Mac kicked off summer with their first swim in the Batman pool Gramma gave them last year.

Megan texted a photo of their first dip:

 

Megan also texted a video snippet of the Memorial Day fun:

Thank heavens for iPhones and a daughter who's willing to use hers quite wisely now and then to help this long-distance grandma endure the space between.

Today's question:

Where do you swim in the summer?

Picture this: The graduate, part 2

I told you here that he was going to do it, and he did.

It's official: Bubby graduated from Pre-K and is now a kindergartner.

Congratulations to my oldest grandson!

Happy Sunday!

Two boys, one bedroom

Ever since Mac was born, he's had his own bedroom. Which meant Bubby had his own bedroom, too.

Mac did just fine in his very own room for the past nearly two years. He enjoyed hanging out alone there...

 

He endured breathing treatments there when sick...

He moved into his big boy bed there...

 

Mac loved being in his very own room.

Until the past few weeks.

Mac recently started showing up in Mommy's bed some mornings. He'd drag his sheets with him, and when Megan told him he needed to sleep in his own bed, he'd teasingly show Megan his sheets and say, "I seep my bed. Mommy bed."

Other mornings Megan would find Mac had crawled into Bubby's bed in the night, where big brother Bubby had scootched over to give his little brother a safe spot to sleep, and the two made it through the night together.

Mac is no longer happy to sleep by himself in his own room.

After trying a variety of measures to make Mac happy in his room, all with no success, Megan proposed to Bubby a solution for Mac's bed-hopping. Megan — gingerly, nonchalantly — asked Bubby how he'd like to have Mac move into his bedroom with him, so the two brothers could sleep in the same bedroom together rather than all alone in their own rooms.

Bubby's response? "Oh, Mom!" he exclaimed. "I've been dreaming about doing that for so long!"

In the blink of an eye, Mac's furniture was moved into Bubby's room. My two grandsons now happily share one bedroom. Mac's not hopped into anyone else's bed since.

Oh, how very different the situation when their mother was a child. Megan shared a bedroom with her younger sister, Andrea, for years. "Happily" is definitely not one of the words one might have used to describe the arrangement.

Megan and Andrea shared a room from the moment little Andie was born. In fact, Megan and Andrea and Brianna all shared a bedroom when Andrea was first born. We lived in a two-bedroom townhome — the townhome where, through a bizarre twist of fate, Brianna now lives on her own. Two bedrooms plus three kids and a mom and a dad, too, meant the three kids shared a bedroom. It was a large bedroom, the master suite of the home, actually. My three little girls had good times in their shared room.

The good times didn't last once we moved to a larger home, one where Brianna, the oldest, got her own room, and Megan and Andrea had to share a room. Oh. My. Goodness. Those two were at each other non-stop. Maybe it's because there's only 19 months between the two. Maybe it's because I failed miserably at teaching them to show love and respect for their sister... and their sister's belongings. Whatever the reason, two girls in one bedroom did. not. work.

At one point, the fighting over which side of the room belonged to whom became so heated that one of the girls — I can't recall which — applied masking tape directly down the center of the room. The idea was to designate permissable boundaries for each. The idea didn't work. For starters, the door to the bedroom was on one side of the room, allowing the owner of the "other" side to trespass as she pleased. Who "owned" the closet was another glitch in the plan.

By the time Megan and Andrea were in junior high, the only solution was to remodel our house so there were three bedrooms for the girls. Three girls, three bedrooms, one each. Yes, a tad extreme, but the bitching battling had gotten so bad that it was either that or end up with one of the girls killing the other.

If you've lived with teen girls, you know that's no exaggeration. If you've been a teen girl — with a teen sister, no less — you're likely vigorously nodding your head in agreement.

I was once a teen girl. With a teen sister, and several younger ones, too. I shared a bedroom with that teen sister. She was older — and tougher — than me, so she ruled the room. It was not fun. At all. It was so unfun, in fact, that we had many knock-down, drag-out, pile on top of one another on the double bed we shared incidents, all featuring hair-pulling and doing our best to pull out each other's oh-so-fashionable hoop earrings, too — preferably with a chunk of earlobe attached.

Not fun. I tired of my sister smoking cigarettes and putting them out under the edge of the rug; she tired of my hamster that continually escaped the Habitrail cage, ending up under the covers on her side of the bed. What saved us from killing one another? She left home to get married.

I'm pretty sure neither Bubby or Mac will need to settle for an ill-fated marriage in order to escape their shared bedroom. I'm also pretty sure they won't emulate the knock-down, drag-out fights my sister and I had or the tape-down-the-middle-of-the-room arrangements their mother had with their aunt. And I feel confident about saying that the two boys will never, ever consider killing one another while residing in the same bedroom.

No, I imagine the only killing going on in that one bedroom shared by those two boys will be the killer good time those kids will be having. Maybe it's the difference between boys and girls, between brothers and sisters.

All I can say about that, though, is where's the justice? I keep waiting for the payback Megan is supposed to suffer through as a parent, the fabled consequences for the trials and tribulations she put her mother through. Seems she'll get by scot-free, at least in terms of payback for her shared-bedroom years.

But then again... Megan and Preston are considering having more children eventually. I'm rooting for a set of twin girls — twin girls who have to share a bedroom.

Today's question:

What was your bedroom situation when you were growing up?

Picture this: The graduate

Bubby "graduates" from pre-K tomorrow, with plans to sing at the event and even bigger plans to attend kindergarten in the fall.

Bubby's pre-K school picture

My biggest question about the whole affair: How in the world can he already be that old?

Today's question:

Who are the graduates in your family this graduation season?

How to make a marshmallow shooter

Marshmallows and kids go together. Marshmallows and kids and homemade shooters for flinging the marshmallows soaring off into the stratosphere go together even better.

Here's how to make your very own marshmallow shooter to share — or not share — with the kids:

What you need:

• Disposable party cup, one per shooter, with the bottom third carefully cut off by an adult

• Balloons, one per shooter plus a few spares, just in case

• Mini marshmallows (Regular size might work, too, but I can't vouch for that)

What you do:

Carefully cut off about 1/8-inch from the rounded end of a balloon. Stretch that cut end of the balloon over the rim off the party cup (not the cut-off end), covering the entire opening of the cup and stretching to allow about 1/2-inch of the balloon to extend up the side of the cup, all the way around.

Roll up the cut edge of the balloon ever so slightly all the way around the cup, to ensure the lip of the cup will grab any edges that threaten to slip off, keeping the balloon secure in place. Then tie the opening of the balloon just as you typically would with an inflated balloon.

Your cup/shooter should look like this:

From there, the fun begins:

First, load the shooter with one marshmallow.

Ensure the marshmallow is centered over the tie...

Then pull back the tied end slightly for the marshmallow to fall into the indention.

Aim your shooter in the direction you want the marshmallow to fly.

Then pull back even farther on the balloon, making sure your hands are closer to the rim than to the cut edge of the cup (because it's sturdier on the rim end and won't crush the cup). Also be sure to r e a l l y concentrate...

Then let go and watch her fly!

Or not fly... at least not at first.

With a little practice, aiming and shooting the marshmallow long distances comes easily. Bubby and I were eventually skilled enough at it to compete with one another to see who could shoot the marshmallow all the way across the yard and over the fence (into the wash, not the neighbor's yard).

We tried shooting Cheerios and tiny craft pom-poms, too. We did the pom-poms indoors so as to not litter. The pom-poms didn't work so well. The Cheerios, though, were a smashing success — especially when we tried them indoors and they burst into pieces upon hitting the vaulted ceiling. (Don't tell Megan.)

Roxy, the family dog, had a great time gobbling up all the marshmallows and Cheerios, both inside and out. And call me a bad grandma if you must, but Mac nabbed a fair share of the misfires, as well, picking them up and popping them into his mouth as quickly as we could fire them off. Hey, it kept him busy while his big brother — and his grandma — got the hang of shooting the marshmallows and more over the fence and out of the park.

Today's question:

When did you last blow up a balloon? Or eat a marshmallow?

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Photo replay: Cold turkey

After spending 10 days of 24/7 time with my grandsons, it's now been more than a week since I've seen their faces or heard their voices.
Going cold turkey stinks, to say the very least.

Bubby, Mac and Gramma at the zoo — April 26, 2013

Enjoy your Sunday!

Photo replay: Run, Bubby, run

Bubby participated in his first organized run yesterday — the half-mile kids' dash during an annual community run that benefits local families in need.

Bubby ran with Mommy (who placed first in her division in the adult run), and when the going got rough after about a quarter of the way, they held hands and pumped their arms together.

Megan reported that they sprinted at the end, and Bubby was quite proud of himself once he'd crossed the finish line.

Soon after, I received this text from Megan: "I just asked him if he would ever do a race again and he said 'No way! But you know what I got from my race?' Then showed me his guns! Ha!"

Seems for a nearly 5-year-old, the arm pumping is far more enjoyable — with better payoff — than the leg pumping.

Today's question:

Which do you work harder to keep fit — your guns (arms) or your legs?

Picture this: A package from Grandma

I mailed a small package of Easter goodies to Bubby and Mac last week.

In return, Megan texted me photos and the comments of the happy recipients upon opening their package from Grandma:

Today's question:

What have you recently received in the mail that made you smile?

Picture this: Colder than expected

 

Today's question:

What is your favorite place in California?