Buffalo, Bestfriends, Bragging, Broken Buicks, Blah Blah Blah

 Camille misses Buffalo. She is my only child that hasn't moved on.  (Actually Kennon still hasn't moved on from Washington. . . but that's a different story) She misses Sara her best friend. To the point of tears on a weekly basis. A few days ago she couldn't go to sleep because she was so upset that all of her new friends here already have best friends and only play with her once in awhile at recess. Then she started talking about "Holmes" her old school and suddenly she burst out with, "No wonder they call it Homes!" Then lots of tears. Then a blessing from her Dad.

Last night, the Buffalo best friend Sara called and said that a tornado was headed to Buffalo. This was very upsetting to Camille. Before bed she prayed hard for Sarah and all of Buffalo.

Just as I assured her last night, Buffalo and Sarah survived to see another day. 

Because of lack of best friends, she has taken to running laps around the playground for recess. She was told that 7 laps around = One mile. Yesterday she ran 14 during the first recess and 14 during the second recess. She came home and bragged to her mom,  "I ran 4 miles today." 

She's really upset at me because I just won't believe it. She is adamant. Seven laps = One mile. And she ran seven . . . four times! I may have to run it myself one of these days and get this matter decided. Stay tuned.

 Caroline barely noticed the change in location. She is happy happy happy. She assures me that she has lots of friends. . .  but can never remember their names? ?  Even the best friend who lives next door. 

She is finally reading. All it took was a mother of 5 to commit to 20 minutes a day with the first grader. I was pretty embarrassed to have a 6 year old who couldn't read. In two months of school she is all caught up and I've been assured that she is right on schedule at her fall parent teacher conference.  
As Brent would say, " That's great Caroline! But time to start passing!"

I am borrowing his line from a cross country meet earlier in the season. That's exactly how he cheered on his daughter, Kennon 1/2 way through one of her races. She was a mile into it and had just gone up a big hill, when he cheered, "Good Job, Kennon!" and then a louder, "Now it's time to start Passing!"  

Don't worry Kennon. I slugged him for you. Mr. Half-miler is not qualified to cheer like that.

Caroline attends speech class at school. They are trying to erase her lateral lisp.  A couple days a week she practices sucking in her spit and saying words like "tree" instead of "pree." 

I can't believe we have to get rid of her cute little voice. If the speech therapy works. . . I guess that's good but we will all miss little Caroline and her lateral lisp.

Marcus is debating being a dentist like Dad or a fireman. I was helping him make up his mind the other day after his brief experience in a real fire truck. I reminded him that if he was a fireman he got to drive a big red truck around not an old Buick like a dentist does. 

We had borrowed his Dad's old Buick a couple days before because he wanted us to take it in for an oil change. I guess I don't understand it's quirks because we drove about a 1/4 of a mile from our house and it stopped. And wouldn't start. For about 2 minutes. When it did start again I went straight back home and abandoned the assigned errand. 

Brent was disgusted that I would quit so easily and said that you just have to take it easy on it and it runs just fine. 

Marcus and I have called it "Dad's broken car" ever since.  So when I told him about his chance to drive a big red truck I was sure that he would choose a fireman. But he is his father's son - true blue through and through and replied, " I want to be a dentist so I can drive a broken car". 


Pretty sad when you are a real dentist and you still have to drive the old broken Buick that was once your old man's. But it's made it through 10 years with this family including 3 years dubbed by his scouts as the multipurpose scouting vehicle, 3 big overheated Buick ventures pulling a a loaded trailer of family belongings during our moves, and four years of hood to school commutes in Buffalo and well. . . . He may as well drive it into it's grave, right? I think that's the plan.