The Fruit of My Loins

Pardon me while I gush. Again. I went to Peach's first parent/teacher conference at the Groovy Granola Montessori School, and the word is good, y'all. Great, even. Actually, it's spectacular. Like, if I was wearing a waistcoat, my buttons would have burst about now. She is so amazing.

Which I already knew, of course. I've always heard nothing but praise in all of our previous conferences, but I was looking extra forward to this one because of the whole new school/new method of teaching and learning thing. The first thing the lead guide said was she had never had a first year student take to her lessons so eagerly and easily AND that she (the guide) knew very quickly that she was going to have to step up HER game to keep up with Miss Thing. Besides doing so well academically, she said she is a leader in the class! Um, what? I mean, she enjoys being around other kids and being a part of the group, but she's never going to bust in and try and be the center of attention. And she's not. Apparently, she is leading by quiet example, in the way she conducts and carries herself and in the way she goes after her work. The guide said she is so well-rounded and CONFIDENT and that the other kids take great interest in whatever she's doing. I almost cried.

I am so thankful that she is so happy, and I am really excited about what all of this means for her. But please know that T-Bone and I had nothing to do with any of it. This kid was born ready to learn, with an incredibly long attention span and a wonderfully curious nature. We just want to nurture her love of learning as long as we can, and hopefully, she'll have the tools and the confidence to go after whatever dreams she has for the future. I, for one, am thrilled to be a witness.

And as for my sweet, also genius, Olive, she is fascinated with boobs. My boobs, my mom's boobs, her own non-existent boobs. Try as I might to correct her, she calls them "poofy things," which she says as she gently pats and pokes them. She told me the other day that when she grows up and becomes a mommy, she'll have poofy things to make milk for her babies because that's what mammals do and cows are mammals and their poofy things are pink and they are on their tummies and that's where the baby cows drink the milk because they are mammals and that's what mammals do. Whew ...

She's also fascinated with hair, and she was worried the other day that I didn't have hair on my arms and chest because "Daddy has humongous hair on his arms and legs." And at the risk of providing TMI, I will say that when she and I were preparing to take a bath together recently, she pointed at a certain area of my body and asked, "Mommy, is that goat hair?" I swear that is not a comment on my personal hygiene. Just a very creative assessment.