The New Year

Kids don't respond to a new year the way adults do.  At least my kids don't.  They aren't looking at a blank calender with hopes and dreams bottled up and waiting to burst onto the fresh clean pages.  They aren't filled with regret of wasted time, lost dreams, mistakes made.  They aren't determined to do better, resolving to start over.  There's not goal lists, no resolutions.  Each day is a day, in and of itself, undefined and full of possibility.  Starting new has no allure, every day is new.

The boy, five years old, looking forward to starting school this year.  Kindergarten, a big step in any young life.  He's smart and funny and has the uncanny ability to take a mom by surprise when combining both these super powers. 

C girl, two years old, a true beauty queen.  She smiles like the sun, loves her unruly hair, and asks for "pretty toes and fingers" almost daily.  She loves "Cindawewa" and all things pink.  She trys to make us laugh and usually succeeds.  She tells the world she had a birthday and she's three now.  She hates being told no, and eats constantly.  She loves spicy chili.

 

 

K girl, two years old, my wild thing.  She marches to the beat of her own drum that isn't a drum at all but the beat box sounds she makes with her own mouth.  She's a Tinkerbell girl.  She loves to dance.  When she's mad or sad, the whole world falls apart, but her smile puts it all together again.  She is independent and won't let anyone do anything for her that she's sure she can do herself.

They aren't worried about reinventing themselves, they are perfect as is.