1950's hair

My son got his hair cut on Wednesday of this week. It reminds me of 1950's hair. . . really short and clean. Couple the haircut with his freckles and he looks a lot like Opie Taylor.

He acts like Opie Taylor sometimes too. Today he had his "real fishing pole" that my Dad got for him, standing on the ottoman casting the line on the living room rug. He played this "fishing game" for 20 minutes or so. It's amazing how kids can entertain themselves when their imagination is given the chance to be free.

On a disappointing note, my son, who absolutely loved preschool last year, won't be going to preschool this fall. We recently went through a big move and will be going through a few more transitions this fall. His father and I finally decided that preschool would add too much to the plate. I'm hoping that I can find another mom to trade a couple of babysitting hours with my daughter so that I can work some one-on-one with him. He learned a lot last year and is very close to reading on his own. His sister tends to distract us both, so hopefully we can find her a fun playmate for a morning or so a week. We are in a very active playgroup so I don't think it will be a problem.

He will enter kindergarten next fall. I get all teary-eyed thinking of the little man he'll be. . . with the big backpack and the wide eyes walking in to a school building. He'll be such a big boy, and I hardly think I have blinked since he was a red newborn, scrunchy-eyes who just changed our world in an instant.

Being a momma is so hard, like this morning when the two of them were fighting and screaming. . . but who in the world would trade the way being a momma transforms your heart? A momma's heart has to be the biggest in the world, second only to God's. Maybe being a momma is how we can understand God a little more.