Oh, Birthday Brother!

My Jo turned 5 today!!!



I can hardly stand that he is not a wee, fluffy-headed bundle of heaven any more. I miss those days, but look forward each day to witnessing his joy for life. His excitement and love make my day, every day!



Even though he speaks the truth without guile ("Mommy, I like your chubby!"), he also often expresses his love to me and plants a big kiss on my cheek.



He is 5 going on 10, and the large gap between him and "the brothers" is not always enjoyable, but I would never have missed the opportunity to be his mommy and witness to the stages and phases he is going through, and seen the love his older brothers have for him.



Happy Birthday, my Jo! Thanks for another reason to celebrate!

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.

Quickie

We're all in end-of-term mode, so there mightn't be much of a post this week. We offer the following random stuff.

Jon was thinking about language tonight, and more specifically about letters. Anyone ever notice that every letter of the Roman alphabet generally approximates the physiology of its speech sound?

Consider A: capped, with a horizontal cross-beam. Now pronounce the medial "a" as in "sack": the sound is concentrated on the roof of the mouth, the lips are vaguely triangular, and the tongue crosses horizontally.

Consider B: the lips work together to produce this sound, both at the full, and pushing out together.

Consider C: (as in "c-at") see your mouth x-ray wise and sidelong, and what do you get?

Consider D: the tip of the tongue, slightly recessed, rounds out toward the opening of the lips.

Consider E: mouth is C-shaped, but wider and flatter at the back and throat, and the tongue sticks out and medially.

Consider F: top lip out, teeth slightly forward, bottom lip curled in and chin flattened.

Consider G: C-shaped mouth, but the tongue pushes flat and the sound reaches back into the throat.

Consider H: from the front.

Consider I: well, don't consider I. Well, maybe from the front, including the uvula.

Consider J: the jaw moves out, down, and back in and up.

Consider K: and then get over it.

Consider L: the tongue comes up and flat against the roof of the mouth, but the throat itself remains open vertically.

Consider M: take B and turn it 90 degrees to the left.

Consider N: make the sound from scratch: tongue-tip comes up, presses the roof, then drops away.

Consider O: well, duh.

Consider P: the lips are curled flat, and then blow out in a single breath as the jaw drops.

Q is a later invention, so fuggedaboudit.

And so on. I'm just sayin'.



Here are some pictures (not of our mouths in action).

Have seen one of these on campus everyday for the last few: biiiig flying beetles.


Also saw a deck of Uno cards scattered all over campus as well: nice shot I should have gotten of one lying in the red desert sand. But I'm not supposed to operate my camera on campus, which brings us to the next shot.

Wendy came with me this last week to see some of my students performing their year-end project for a colleague's theatrical production class. They did the highly orientalist "Ali Bab and the 40 Thieves" in the motif of toy theatre. Split the parts, which multiple actresses spoke simultaneously. Jim's really great with them: I discovered several of them actually do have voices!

Anyway, this is a shot looking back out across the courtyard (second floor) of the building I teach in:



Skating rink at our neighborhood mall from two floors up:



Bug on a step in our house: one of those beetles. Did I post this one already?



Jonah called this a "cloud stack." His phrase. It's stuck.



ec, go easy: I only ever have my iPhone on me these days: we haven't trotted out the real camera in aeons, but we promise we'll take it and the digital video to Rome. So no photo-criticism. You might scare off National Geographic.

Laters.