The Graduate (and other achievements)

So Amber and Dave think it's a big, fat, hairy deal that Dave has finished his MD/PhD and got to wear the hide of the velveteen rabbit (with accents) at long last. Pshaw! Jonah, it must be said, has graduated from nursery school. We're still waiting for news of a fellowship. (Kidding. Congrats, Edwardseseses! Venisti, Vedisti, Vicisti! Semper Laudanum et Mari Juanium in Formam Pillulam Percorramum--est!)

Anyway, back to our graduate.

Oed and Ted:




A very sober affair (clearly):




Jonah and his BFF (a true Welshman, one of the cymry and a right proper gent)




Jonah and another friend, clearly not Welsh . . .




He vants to suck yor bludd . . .



Actually, all the boys thought the gowns were batman capes. It's not surprising, given the confusion caused by talk of "cap and gown."

Quick story: Wendy and I had sent the older two to PG for a few weeks, and we just had number three (terror of the high C!) with us. He was just two years old. We went to Home Despot in Lethbridge (I misspelled that on porpoise), and he was growing restless being in the cart, so a kind sales associate gave him a roll of stickers. Jonah looked at him incredulously, but accepted the gift and then sat there considering for some time. I went back to the ceiling fans and he was quiet for a good long while. Suddenly he began exclaiming "I'm a genius! I'm a genius!" over and over. I looked back, and he was plastering the shopping cart with stickers.

The act itself wasn't remarkable: it was his command (use and understanding) of the word genius that was remarkable (and darn cute).

Well, here's proof: Jonah only went to school for the last two months, and he's already caught up with his peers. Behold the evidence:

First, a note from his delightful teacher, Ms. Sue, who's from Sohth Aavrick-a:




The cover page of his report card, decorated par soi-meme:




And the report:






Now our report: Jonah continues to keep us in stitches, and on pins and needles. He bursts into song regularly, and not always songs we'd like him to sing. He spells, counts, plays solitaire (but not solitarily: one is always informed about Jonah's whereabouts and activities a' la Howard Cosell, i.e. Jonah's own running commentary), plinks out tunes on the piano, leaves a trail of belongings throughout the house (like the old Family Circus kid, but with toys and items of clothing instead of dashes), imitates every accent he hears, can't say "mi chiamo" to save his life (comes out more like "mi cameo," which if he were attempting Spanish would be kind of apropos, because he behaves as though every moment of every day is his own highly anticipated cameo), and just loves being alive. This is infectious, obnoxious, and precious. I'm writing that tonight because we've had an inordinately high dosage of Calvin-Jonah lately, and we're accen-tuate-ing the positive.


Christopher, by no means a slouch, has also been honoured of late. We should note that he has also "graduate," as my students would say, from "prim'ry school," and will no longer have to wear knickers and dippy shirts, though during the hot months he'll wish that weren't so. He and his class put on their big year-end show tomorrow night, so we'll post a few pics or maybe a short vid clip before we leave (Wednesday!). In the meantime, here're two pics to tide you over:


In this first one, you can plainly see that the beatings with the ugly stick have increased in intensity and frequency . . .





And here's the cert. By way of explanation, C often uses his first name at school, to his mother's continuing chagrin (not because she doesn't like my brother Steve, or his name, but just because he's Christopher to us), and the school's obvious confusion. I think it's slightly devilish, not to mention mildly subversive, and therefore approve of it whole heartedly.