Dance Camp

Our girl believes in miracles, this is no secret. Our girl believes she can be a dancer. Our girl believes in miracles. We decided to sign up for Dance Camp at the high school–you know, before spending exorbitant amounts of money on dance lessons when we are not sure of the extent of her roots/dedication she has for the dance. Three practices, a t-shirt, and a performance at the high school football game. What is not to love!? She spent hours in preparation talking about the aforementioned "dance camp," and there was almost a need for a paper-chain countdown. There was an abundance of time spent on outfit planning... and I have NEVER seen her eat dinners so fast!

So... the first night of practice, she questioned the coaches as to their reasoning for the actual "routine." I mean, she does have some sweet original moves, and our little free-spirit thought "freestyle" alone would be appropriate. (This is a large part of why we have yet to invest in "the dance").

Here is the final product:

Concentration-face... 

"I'm like so good at this, I practically own this dance..."

"Wait up, guys!" 

"I said, 'wait up'!"

"I got filthy rolling around on this turf."

"Seriously, I can not continue until this stuff is off me! Who's with me?  ... Oh... no one..."

Salute or "turn up the beat"!?

"I just can't anymore! I'm just going to levitate here! ... Marionette... GO!

"I AM FILTHY!"

I think she is spent!

NAILED IT!

Now, very seriously, run off the field.

More comfortable with the free-styling.  

Thank you, Miss Maria! You made this a lovely memory for our girl!

In the Presence of Celebrities!

Every year MAK's heart surgeon and his posse throw a picnic for their patients, new and old. This year it was on a Saturday, which made it possible for us to attend.

I may or may not have wept tears behind my sunglasses. 

This man was a regular celebrity amongst the attendees, as he rightly should be. In reality, not a one of us would question automatic sainthood (if that is a thing, Lord, I nominate... HIM). We watched as he slowly made his way through the line that formed immediately upon his arrival... each time reaching to hold the children–big, small, infant... 6-year-old beauty–and he would look at each of them with the most genuine of loves and awe at the gifts that children are. It is as if he doesn't quite grasp that each of those hundreds of children were running around, some with feeding tubes still in their noses, because of him! He is a treasured gift!

Speaking of treasures, this is MAK's cardiologist whom we L.O.V.E. LOVE! MAK is giddy on the days we get to go visit him. He looks out for her, researches her, is about to make her 'famous' again (or at least her EEGs). He makes her smile and laugh, feel comfortable, special, and beautiful, safe and brave. I mean for reals, he is the bestest EVER!

And this, my people, is what a Pediatric Heart Institute picnic looks like... BOOM!

So serious...

Apparently this is MAK's version of what a ninja looks like after the Ninja Heart Obstacle Course.

MAK is teaching the girls her original steps, her brother is having nothing of it... Clearly!

His picnic loot!

What a WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL day! We'll be back next year! (not sure if that is a threat or a promise!)

We Survived and are Better for it!

Where have all the babies gone?! Oh, school... all my babes are in school! It wasn't even as hard as I expected, mostly because I was racing to get to my own school, also my place of employment! No time for feeling sorry for myself and my ever growing children, who are clearly trying to leave me in about 5 blinks of an eye!

My little man-man had the greatest of great days. Kindergarten has treated him well thus far. When I picked him up all I heard were comments of, "I love my school." "This day was awesome." "I had fun and there wasn't even a TV." "Will 'next day' be just like this day?" 

My heart beat-eth over!

My little lady had some ideas of what today would be like. She walked in like she owned the place and she walked out the same way! If you know this girlfriend, you know that she sweats excitement. Her eyes tell no lies. She is NUTS over the idea of school, and friends, and teachers, and two-year-olds, and reading, and lunch made from the fruits of the gods (might be a direct quote from last night), and jobs, and helping, and ALL THE THINGS!

Then, there is this ever-growing collection of years employed as a human... teaching humans... human things. Year 10 can not beat me. I refuse to let it win. But, if it were not poo-pooed, I could already share stories that would make you fear the future of our nation... whilst laughing hysterically. It is the paradox I dwell in... It's okay to be jealous.

My man, well... yeah... HIM!

 Morning came EARLY!

Any more excited and it would be unsafe!

And they're out!

"I got this Ma!"

He looks so grown!...

Why the face?

Why the faces?

I can see the tired. Can you?

Nailed it!