If it decided to snow again that would be a very cruel twist. The trails and roads are dry and clear, the skies blue, the days around 50, and the only snow remaining stubbornly hides under shadows in the woods.

Henry happily bumped along in his bike trailer over the weekend, loving every minute of it. Last summer I used to turn my head back every few minutes to check on him, whereas now I listen to the play by play of our ride to know he's doing fine.

"Tanker! Mail truck! Muddy puddles! Satellite dish!"

He thinks riding in the trailer is the cat's pajamas and is now actively asking for his own bike. Mission accomplished. We're currently leaning toward a push bike over a pedal bike, but still need to stew on it for a bit.

The warm weather means the sandbox is open. I don't know the details of the work order, but from what I've observed on the job site, the focus is in loading up the dump truck with sand via the excavator over and over again. It just never gets old. As the underwriter of the job, I only ask that we try to hit the sandbox on scheduled bath days.



Moments after putting on his new fire truck jammies, Henry decided for the first time to fix the light switch in the kitchen. Like a bullet out of a gun he could not be stopped, and we happily sat back and enjoyed the show.

Saturday we happily headed to St Elizabeth's for the honor of being Ann's godparents. Ann was less than excited about the water and oil while Henry kept running onto the altar to inspect the font. By the end of the ceremony I held Henry in my arms and Ann powered through. Success was achieved and we headed back for dinner and visiting at the Hamel's.

Henry sat across from Maggie and they both ate their meals nicely (though Henry finished early and headed quickly to the toys that loomed just out of view).

I offered Henry some conversational advice. "Ask Maggie how her day was."

"How was your day," he said.

"Good," Maggie replied.

A few oranges and spoonfuls of rice went in before Henry tried again. "There is a washer and a dryer."

Maggie offered, "They are red."

More chewing and sitting politely.

"How old are you, Henry?"

"I'm 2," Henry said.

"I'm 5." I remember Maggie just turning 3 a few months ago, but what do I know.

...

When showing Henry the photos uploaded to flickr, he smiled after pointing and naming Maggie and Ann. A serious face then turned to me. "Where are pictures of the washer and dryer?" Sorry, kid, we missed that detail.
 




The important things always stick in our memories. If I ask Henry what he ate for lunch he'll say, "Macaroni and cheese." If I then crane my head towards Becky I'll see her rolling here eyes. "It was a peanut butter sandwich." If you ask him what happened at the end of playtime at St Elizabeth's last week, expect a play by play whose accuracy will not be in question.

"The smoke detectors went off."

"Why?"

"There was a fire drill. All of the doors shut."

"Were you scared."

"No. The smoke detectors keep us safe. The man was checking the smoke detectors."

At this point he'll spiral into a description of the long wand the workman used to check the smoke detectors in the gymnasium. This may be his most important memory made thus far.

It's still in the teens most mornings, but our daytime highs end up around 40, so the melt is on. The local lakes are not terribly safe for skating anymore, so we've been heading to UAA to lace up the skates each Friday evening. It's ended up being mainly a Daddy and Henry event, though Mom did come out to take some pictures last week and noticed just how much better Henry is.

He can stand very well in his skates and tic-tac right ahead without falling, which is far beyond the ankle rolling he dabbled in 3 months ago. Even though he fusses greatly when I let go of his hands, the fact remains that he is able to stand just fine without help. Mentally, he needs to embrace the fact that he does skate on his own.

When people ask how much we skate, I honestly reply, "We do about 1-2 laps around the rink. It takes 35 minutes."

Even though his skills are increasing, I believe his concentration on the movement is taxing. So we stop to play in the penalty box, then spend some time in the corner staring at the zamboni through the glass, take another break on the player's benches, and then finish off at the goal with our eyes fixated on the scoreboard up above.  Oh, do we love the scoreboard.

The only problem with skating these days is how comfortable Henry is with his skates on carpeting. I used to be able to get his skates on and then take my time lacing up my own while he held himself up on my leg. That has gone the way of the dodo. He's off runnings once those skates get tied off. The new plan I have been using is taking off his boots, lacing up my skates, and then placing his skates on. It's tough to fight his need to explore, particularly when the scoreboard is a mere 20 feet away.






The most exciting news in our home is that Henry will have a new baby sister this August! Everyone is healthy and doing well and Henry seems very warm to the new addition. When asked over several occasions what a good name would be, he offered 3 options: Henry, Baby Sister, and Ice Cream.

There is not a loser in the bunch.