9 days to go: not to be outdone...

Dear Jesse,

Hooray for single digits in the countdown!

I have a treat for you again. Not to be outdone by his brother, William has worked to memorize the little sing-song "Une poule sur un mur" rhyme that they've been doing in his class. I've had to brace myself for practice with him because he's a wee bit explosive in moments of frustration. Likewise, for the sake of honesty and transparency I probably should have kept the outtakes of tonight's first recording attempt. Picture wild thrashing on the couch and a toppled end table!

But...behold the cuteness that we obtained eventually. Working at French is far more stressful and anger-inducing for William than it is for Josiah, so it makes me especially proud to see him overcoming the difficulties and foreignness of everything. My favorite part of the little video is his smile at the end when he realizes he's done it this time. I think you'll wear a similarly proud smile when you watch. Enjoy!!


Une Poule from Krista Casler on Vimeo.

10 days to go: mon cartable!!

Jesse, I'm so excited for you to see this! Yesterday, Josiah and I worked to finish memorizing the "Mon Cartable" poem. I recorded him reciting it over lunch today and then took the scant hour available this afternoon (while William was at maternelle) to add my best stab at translation. You'll beam when you watch him.

For non-Jesse readers: Josiah has been making great progress in school in just 5 weeks. He's mastered French-style cursive handwriting, is becoming comfortable with an increasing array of phrases and words, is making friends, and has figured out a million and one little cultural things about how school works here. I'm so proud of his hard work, so proud of him.

In particular, rote learning and recitation are relatively common practices here, tough in a foreign language. Although this poem initially was a huge jumble of unrelated syllables, Josiah's been nothing but positive and persistent in learning it. The poem itself amuses me a little. It's about "my backpack" and its thousand smells (e.g., oranges, caramel). But...it gets a little existential by the end ("the long hair of my mother," "mornings in the light"). I suppose it's nice for 6-8 year olds to be learning something a little more poetic and artsy than the goofy, sing-song fare we usually feed to kids, right?  :)

[I'd suggest viewing it full screen...] 


Mon Cartable from Krista Casler on Vimeo.

11 days to go: labyrinth edition

Holding up fingers to look like little elevens...

Dear Jesse, 

We had a slow day given that the boys had no school. It was one of those days when it felt like we got nowhere fast, going in circles with certain themes on repeat. Mazelike, if you will. As it turns out, I printed some mazes for the boys yesterday, which were a big hit. William has no trouble thinking outside the box, as you can see! He was angrily affronted by Josiah's suggestion that it was inappropriate to solve this little maze by going around the bottom. (While the aggression response was a problem, his ability to think beyond "oughts" should serve him well in life, I bet.) He moved on to much more complicated mazes after that and was incredibly focused on solving them, by the way.

This morning Josiah decided we should make tricky mazes for one another. He watched me start drawing one of the ones on the left then began producing the ones you see on the right. He worked so hard and did such a nice job! (The red and orange scribbles were William's work in another fit about something or other this afternoon...sigh...)

So yes, mazes ended up being rather emblematic of the day. Mostly it was nice and lazy, although William's angry outbursts were a less desirable example of a recurring event no matter the tactics I employed. (Luckily he was sweet as sugar between times.) As another example, it rained hard a lot of the day and was rather dark, but for about two hours midday the skies completely cleared. We took the opportunity to trot up the street to see the Chapelle where William and I had visited yesterday. We arrived to find the doors are closed until Saturday, so we'll just have to go back yet again this weekend. But the boys enjoyed prancing and splashing around the fountain outside for quite some time.



Finally, both boys are overall fine but seem to be dealing with a bit of tummy trouble. Lots of running back and forth to the bathroom. As you can see here, the ailment has not compromised their talent for finding ridiculous things to do. Here William is giving Josiah the double thumbs up for holding a dozen pencils in his toes. You're clearly missing out on Very Important Stuff by being away!

Lots of love from somewhere in the maze,

Krista

12 days to go: artsy edition

Dear Jesse,

We hope you're safely in Santo Domingo by the time you read this, soaking up the wonderful DR warmth that goes so far beyond climate!

Thouars today was dark, wet, and chilly. I joined in on William's field trip this morning to the art installation at la Chapelle Jean D'Arc. Walking in the gray rain with a dozen French preschoolers down narrow streets and through ancient stone passageways definitely triggered one of those "how did I get here?" moments. The exhibit was insanely minimal yet very cool. I hope to write more about it later since I'd like to go back with Josiah in tow before it closes on October 12th.

The after-school part of the day with the boys was good. At one point they decided to create "surprises" for one another with random bits and pieces, which of course is to say they went through massive amounts of Scotch tape. Josiah fashioned a kazoo-type instrument for William out of a cardboard tube and some wax paper. William made, I quote, "a flappy thing for scaring people" by attaching two sheets of paper to a yellow balloon. (Somehow this took an entire 15 minutes and at least two feet of tape.) Personally, I used the time fiddling about trying to construct a miniature/hand-held camera obscura out of an OJ container from the recycling bin, inspired by a box at the aforementioned art exhibit. I should have been working on dinner...

Oh, and I almost posted before including this! After school I was giving prompts and sentence-starters to the boys so we could come up with a story together. The first story was a total fail as their fill-in words and plot turns all involved extensive potty humor and overall rudeness, which of course they found hilarious to the point of tears. But then William said he'd tell a "nice story," which he asked me to type for you:

 William's Nice Story for Daddy

Once there was a giraffe and he was taking a walk. He saw a cowboy rider go by. Then a fox was behind him and it was chasing a chicken! So then the chicken got away, and the fox was chasing a turtle. Then the turtle got away and it was chasing the giraffe!! But then the giraffe got away so the fox chased an elephant, and it got away. Then it chased a bird that got away, and a duck that got away. So then the giraffe finished his walk and went all the way back to his friends and played tag with them. The end. 

13 days to go: history repeats

Once upon a time, Jesse went on a long and faraway trip. Knowing that he'd have internet access intermittently but would be lucky to get a call home—since it was the communications dark ages of, you know, 2007—I opened a blogger account. For three weeks, I posted brief, daily countdown photos and stories of Josiah. The "Daddy Countdown" blog was born. [Here's a link to sample post!] After that trip, I changed the name to the Daddy Connection and maintained it as a silly, lopsided communication from me to Jesse whenever he traveled...which was relatively often when Josiah was a wee munchkin.

Over time, things have changed. Thankfully, Jesse's role requires far less travel these days, and family and friends ask for blog posts now, not Daddy. But today Jesse left for two weeks away from us. He'll be in the Dominican Republic for the remainder of this week, then in Lancaster for most of next week, then on to Boston for the weekend, then back to us finally.

So once again we're counting down to Daddy's return! The boys decorated number slips this evening, and we've stuck them to the wall so we can keep track of the passing days. We'll take one down each morning. To answer the two questions that surely are springing to mind:

1) Yes, of course the countdown is primarily for me, certainly more so than for the children. They won't suffer with Daddy's absence.
2) Yes, I know there are two zeros on the wall. Both boys wanted to color that slip so I made a second one; it certainly wasn't worth a fight, or even a conversation or negotiation. And besides, when we wake up on day "0" and know that Jesse will be with us by suppertime, I might just be excited enough to add my own 0 to the wall, too!

We love you, Jesse, and already can't wait to see these numbers gone! Safe travels! xx

Metamorphoses

Five years ago, in the course of a few hours, this:

became this:

which, as of this past Thursday, has become this!

We did what we could to stop this most recent instantiation of growth and change. All week we told William that he was not allowed to get any older. However, with characteristic disobedience, the boy went ahead and turned five anyway. What cheek. For our part, Jesse and I gallantly decided to turn the other one (cheek, that is), and we celebrated his birthday in spite of the child's refusal to honor our perfectly reasonable demand that he remain four for at least another year (or two). We're nigh unto saints. 

I think it's safe to say he had a great day.  :)  William woke up to decorations hung around the kitchen, then of course he and Josiah had to head off to school for a few hours. Inspired by Josiah's lunchtime (Saturday) celebration a few weeks ago, he requested his family party over the 90-minute lunch break at home midday: homemade pizza, cards, and gifts. Lots of fun!! 

Then it was back to school for just another 90 minutes, where he had cake to share with his classmates, then home for some one-on-one playing with Mommy. Thursdays are an earlier release at 3 p.m. instead of 4 p.m., but Josiah has begun opting to stay the extracurricular hour, so I go back for him later. And yes...that makes 5 runs to and from the schools on Thursdays. Not that anyone's counting.

Before dinner, William wanted to go to the nearby toy shop to buy something with his birthday euros. Since Josiah had spent some of his own birthday money on a special toy for William a week ago, Will was keen to return the generosity. To my delight, Jesse and William returned from the shop with a small trampoline, something that Josiah had rhapsodized about a few weeks prior. For the record, "delight" may or may not be an entirely accurate descriptor of my response, not that I don't love a good visit to the ER as much as the next mom. But "delight" is definitely an accurate descriptor of Josiah's response (his goofy face here notwithstanding)! 

William's dinner request was spaghetti and meatballs, and then it was time for cake. Both sets of grandparents were able to join us at the table via Skype for singing Happy Birthday and seeing the candles blown out, which was just wonderful!

   

Happy birthday, William. We love you more than words can say!

   

On a brighter note...

Some of our haul a week ago...yum! 

After the gloom of the last two posts, it feels like high time to hit on something a little more colorful. Yes?

We're in a rural region, and our town holds a wonderful farmer's market on Tuesday and Friday mornings. At home in the US, our family has been spoiled by the many lovely markets in and around Lancaster, and we feel lucky that we've been able to maintain those kinds of shopping habits here. Local cheeses, meats, fish, honey, eggs, and bread can be found in abundance at the Thouars market, and it's so nice to have it all just up the street. Of course we've find shopping at the market a little tricky at times since we're not always efficient in communicating our needs or questions. I'm happier shopping on Tuesday, which is the "little market" day, when the stalls are slow and only food stuff is for sale. I don't feel so bad requiring the patience of vendors when no one else is in line!

On Fridays, the place is teeming with people and there are dozens and dozens of additional stalls. I'll note that while some of the additions feel in keeping with the historic market (e.g., live hens, flowers and plants, ready-to-eat-food), many others surprised us. At home, non-food stands at a farmer's market would probably consist of artisan items, vintage wares, handmade products, etc.  Here, there's some of that, but overall it's more like a huge Dollar Store sidewalk sale. There must be 25 stalls selling clothes and shoes, with most displaying nearly the same items. Multiple vendors sell nothing but rainbow loom bands. There are some nice kitchen wares, but most are aluminum and plastic items that don't look like they'd last long. A lot of the linens consist of piles of (garish) polyester tablecloths. Obviously I carried a romanticized notion of what wares "should" go alongside a lovely French farmer's market!   :)   But regardless, we *love* the market and won't be stopping our biweekly visits anytime soon.

P.S. - Two little details that I love (and ought to photograph): first, how all the price signs are penned in pretty cursive, and second, how shop owners and boulangers close paper sacs by twirling the corners rather than just folding over.

Update

Bathroom ceiling

Thanks for the kind messages being sent our way post-flood. We're doing well, and I thought I should put up a newsy update for those who've been emailing for details.

Water coming in through locked, sealed door (ice dammed).

We didn't leave the soggy house on Sunday. We woke to find that pieces of the plaster ceiling in the bathroom had flaked down overnight, and I think we were too overwhelmed and messy and just plain weary—with too much work before us—to manage getting ourselves psychological or physically together for church or any other outing. There also was a 50% chance of more thunderstorms on Sunday, and we were worried that if any rain began to fall, it would be all hands on deck once more (although in the end, no more rain came). In hindsight, leaving the premises would have helped, I'm sure, but we didn't want to face it at the time!

You can sort of make out the staining — attic bedroom

Because Sunday was a heavy, warm, humid, darkish day, nothing aired at all. I put through a few loads of nasty wet towels and such, since I couldn't bear to ignore the mountains of wash, but given the weather they were still basically as wet by bedtime as they'd been when I hung them out to dry hours earlier. Life felt damp and stinky.

Lots of water damage to wood stairs.

But then: The weather turned that night. Monday dawned clear and breezy, chilly even, with no humidity at all. Perfect for throwing open every window and kicking the clean-it-up, air-it-out, wash-it-all, dry-it-through efforts into high gear, hallelujah! I think the washer ran non-stop for the day (well, except for an hour or two in the morning when Jesse and I had our first language class at the local community center and an hour or two in the afternoon when William and I had a brief playdate with a mom and daughter from his class).

Upon walking through town, we could see clearly just how badly the area was devastated by the storm. Gorgeous flower gardens have been reduced to mashed vegetation (our own courtyard has been a mess to begin clearing, and still had pockets of ice up to 48 hours later!). Countless homes, businesses, and buildings were discernibly damaged and/or flooded. The beautiful, 1000-year old church behind us has piles of sand at its feet where the hail blasted the facade for half an hour and chipped away at the ancient, soft stone, doing irreparable harm. So sad. We've learned that the hail was concentrated in a tiny path; our little part of town was at the very heart of the worst of it. People barely 10 minutes away knew nothing of it!

Joined planks splitting

I should be clear there's been lots of good news. First, the clear, dry, breezy weather is forecast for at least a week. Next, I didn't say it in my previous post, but Jesse's and my bedroom was pretty much untouched by water, so we've had an oasis there (just a little staining appeared on the ceiling). Third, the kitchen and living room also have remained fine for living in; there's damage to the living room carpet and to the ceilings, but we've totally been able to work and play in the areas, prepare meals, etc. Fourth, we have a full bathroom in with the laundry off the kitchen, and that area too has been fine to keep using. So...given that hundreds of gallons of water (yes, really) entered the living areas of the house, we feel uncommonly lucky. It's also bizarre that despite the fact that it was like a massive sprinkler system went off in the attic, water pouring everywhere, by some inexplicable miracle the boys' twin beds were two little islands of dry. Baffling, but we're so thankful. Of course we've not had the boys sleeping up there since the storm. We've unplugged everything in the attic except for a single large fan that hasn't been turned off yet. Unfortunately, most of the white paneling is buckled, swollen, stained, and smelly, as are the floorboards. Likely a lot of it will need to be ripped out and redone...

Always nice to see your
electrical has been
bathed in dirty water...

On the point of repairs, our landlord has been great. A roofer who'd been out to quote on a very small existing roof leak a few weeks ago got her S.O.S. on Saturday evening and has moved up work to this week, tomorrow in fact. The area of the pre-existing leak barely dripped during the storm so does not appear to have been the culprit, by the way!  Interestingly, Jesse was up on the roof last week patching some of those small existing gaps, and he popped back up again yesterday (through a narrow skylight on the third floor) to look around. He reports that the roof looks a-okay in general!? Our house is attached to the neighbors', whose roofline is higher than ours and slopes/dumps 100% onto ours. It seems the entire square footage of roof drain-off from next door was coming in along the full join between the two. Roofs are different here; they leave space for air circulation, and we wonder whether that space—which ordinarily couldn't be breeched—was damaged...or lifted...or something...by ice damming perhaps?

As for other repairs, what will happen remains to be seen. Some issues are cosmetic, others are much more important. Nothing moves fast, so we're setting expectations accordingly. It's also the case that many buildings were damaged, so I imagine trades folk will be booked out for months. But for now, we're totally fine, basically dry, very thankful, and back to characteristically optimistic spirits about life in general.  :)

---

Here's a little video posted by the local news; you can see just how the water and ice was flowing! (Grêle is hail, by the way.)

One for the record books

Josiah was keen to invite some of his new friends for a birthday party. When your child—in a new country, who's doing his darnedest to make friends with children he can barely communicate with—asks to invite kids over for his birthday, you put aside your own concerns about the million little practicalities and Make It Happen. My wonderful grad school friend Evie came to the rescue once again and talked me through the expectations surrounding kids' birthday parties here. For example: they're almost exclusively held on Wednesdays from 4 to 6 p.m. or Saturdays at that same sort of time, they're low-key affairs, parents rarely stay, one serves cake but never ice cream, favor bags are expected to be small bags of candy...the list of little expectations that go unnoticed in one's own culture but are so interesting and important (and potentially stressful) when you're in another culture just goes on and on!

Galvanized by the call with Evie, I Googled up some general wording, and Josiah brought invitations to five school friends the following day. This was a week ago. We set the time for today, Saturday, in the afternoon, and we were delighted that three of the children were able to attend (one girl, two boys). And yes, I put a little comment at the bottom of each invitation saying that we were newly arrived, spoke very little French, but would do our best!

The children all arrived at the appointed hour. We had friendly if a bit awkward "conversations" with the parents at drop off. I put quotes around the word because of course our communicating relies heavily on gesture, simple sentences, and lots of hopeful smiles. 

We told each parent they were welcome to stay if they wanted, but each politely declined. And perhaps that was for the best, because, well, I'll let the photos do most of the talking from here:

Everything started off great. The sun was shining, and the kids played and ran around together. After a short while they folded paper airplanes and spent a while tossing them around, giggling (usually at me butchering words), and generally having fun.   :)

We knew that thunderstorms were forecast, and sure enough, an ominous rumbling began in the heavens. Despite still having blue sky above, it became one of those non-stop thunder rolls that goes on and on. I kid you not: It thundered without ceasing for over 30 minutes while we played outdoors. When the clouds eventually moved in, we headed inside to make some little parachuting Lego Minifigures. (We decided to flout the "candy for favor" tradition and do the little Lego guys instead. I mean, we're foreigners...we get to break a few rules!)

Over the course of just a few minutes, the sky went from dark to darker to black...to white? Hail descended. It was wild. We understood from the kids that hail is very uncommon, and of course we all watched with that mixture of excitement and fear that you get during really wild, powerful weather events!

Obviously we got a LOT of hail, often with heavy rain mixed in. Here's the level at the door when we opened it after the precipitation ceased:

If only that were the end of the story. Alas, no. 

In the midst of the storm—which went on long enough that we'd returned to our paratroopers long before it ended—I was bent over the kitchen table helping somebody do something when Noé blurted out, "Il pleut dans la cuisine!!"  

Did he just say it's raining in the kitchen?

I whipped around. Yes, yes he did. It's raining in the kitchen. This photo doesn't begin to do it justice. It was coursing down the walls and there was a steady, faucet-like stream falling from the middle. Mind you, this is what I could see on the bottom floor of a three-level house...a looooong way from the roof. 

Jesse kicked into high gear upstairs, where it really was indeed basically raining inside. There was water coming waterfall style down the stairs from the boys' room to the middle level. Unbelievably, inconceivably bad.

What could I do? Serve cake and sing "joyeux anniversaire," that's what. Couldn't exactly abandon the kids! Plus the floors were dangerously slippery, we didn't want the children to leave the (dry) kitchen table area, and well, it was all pathetically hilarious. You can sort of see the white-out conditions out the door behind Josiah...   Happy birthday, kid!

 Once the storm passed, with Jesse still bailing like a madman upstairs (buckets were filling literally faster than he could make the rounds to empty), the kids begged to go outside and experience the novelty of the hail-covered landscape. With trepidation, worsened by the fact that I don't really know how to caution kids in French, I agreed. 

No, I didn't press them into hard labor (below). They asked for the brooms and were excited to sweep a path through the 3-4 inches of hail, clearing the way to the door and moving enough so the door could open when their parents arrived. 

The parents confirmed that this was utterly bizarre weather, one of the worst storms ever to pass through Thouars (some of them have lived here their entire lives). One dad said his house too sustained roof damage and was flooding badly throughout, like ours.

This is my sum-up portrait of the party:

Party post-script:
Once the guests left, the real fun began. Ugh. We've been in touch with our landlord, in Canada, and are documenting areas of worst damage. The entire house feels waterlogged (and regretfully is beginning to smell the part too). Much of the water that came through was black and horrid. Paint is bubbling on most ceilings, areas are still dripping clear to the bottom floor now hours after the rain stopped, walls are wet to the touch, water is everywhere, pretty much every towel has been destroyed in service of protecting bigger and more important items. Unfortunately, most of the boys' books that we brought were ruined, as is their Monopoly game. Jesse's and my toothbrushes got a good dousing in nasty black water too, and I'm trying to decide if scrubbing them in the sink with boiling water (which I intellectually know will clean them) is going to satisfy me psychologically enough to put it in my mouth before bed tonight. Hmm. Shops are closed now until Monday, so I guess I can't wait that long to brush my teeth!

Apparently there were no promises made about our particular house being saved from flood.  :)   (Rainbow seen out our back window an hour or two after the hail storm.)

 

One last note: We were so touched when one of the dads returned to our house a few hours later in the evening. We must have looked so helpless during pick-up time, and he came to see if we needed any help. There really wasn't much more to do at that point but wait for things to start to air out, but we were incredibly grateful...especially considering that he's the one whose own house was likewise wet. We've kept his number and are thankful that we can call him if needed.

Speaking of "au loup!"...

I mentioned in today's earlier post that last week for homework, Josiah worked through the story of the little boy who cried wolf, a.k.a., le garçon qui criait "au loup." [Of course this really means that I worked through the story. Fortunately children's tales like that are lots easier for me to understand than everyday conversations or more technical documents, so it's been among the more enjoyable translation projects!]

Anyway...Jesse and I keep cracking up at it. I'm sure you know the general tale. Well, when the wolf arrives on the scene and the boy—Louis, in this version—cries out at the end, the adults eventually see his plight and tell him it serves him right ("That'll teach you not to tell lies!"). Hearing this, the wolf decides to eat the adults instead, and it looks as though Louis is off the hook. But no, the wolf ends up deciding to "savor" Louis for dessert. No American-style happy endings here! And what totally gets us every time? The final line: "Que voulez-vous, c'est la vie!" What do you want? That's life!

Our happy-ending kids found this to be a bit...puzzling, to say the least. "You mean, the wolf really ate him?" Yep. "The adults didn't want to save him?" Nope, although don't worry, they died too. Listen kids, we aren't going to sugar coat it for you. And seriously, what do you want? Wolves devour people, got it? The end.

It just struck us as so quintessentially French. You can bet Jesse and I have been getting all sorts of mileage out of that line between ourselves!

Mouche!

William is one of those kiddos who's successively obsessive about various hobbies, sports, and interests. Each one lasts anywhere from a month to, oh, perhaps half a year. Some previous (a few still ongoing) obsessions have included basketball, running water, baseball, butterflies, and the Hallelujah Chorus. If you've known William, then you've known these crazes!

Currently? He's hilariously intent on capturing and/or swatting flies. Upon arriving home after the first day of school a few weeks ago, he proudly produced a very large fly from his pocket that he'd caught by hand on the playground. Atta boy!

Josiah's homework last week involved going through the story of the little boy who cried 'wolf,' and in French, the "Wolf!" bit is translated "Au loup!"  Well, William has adopted this as his own and is now the little boy who cried 'fly.' He can be heard crying "au mouche!" off and on throughout the day as he dashes through the kitchen or living room, swatter in hand. (Yes, I know the grammar is wrong since "mouche" is feminine, but I'm not bothering him with that.) 

He'll stay on the chase of a particular fly for ages. Once he's gotten or killed it, he marches straight outdoors with it (I've mandated the outdoors part) along with a bug zapper thing that is easily The Best Item Found In This House, as far as William is concerned. It's shaped like a tennis racket and, with the press of a button, becomes electrified. Thus the fly is duly zapped to make sure it's well and truly dead—ugh, it stinks—and then the little body is carefully flicked under the rosebush. 

I've said it time and time again through the years...but how did I end up with boys? I guess I shouldn't complain, as William is my first call upon finding any creepy-crawly thing I don't want to deal with in the house. He's very matter-of-fact and efficient in his exterminating, so that's a win in my book!

Post script: 

While talking about William's crazes, I should mention that William is also enraptured with playing Monopoly right now. He's at it for hours per day! The crazy 4-year-old has the math skills of a child much older; he can be the banker, make complicated change with ease, etc.  Now if only he had the impulse control to match it, my life would be made in the shade...  

Eight.

Josiah turned eight today. Eight.

    

   Eight?

- As in: too old to be called "Josiah Papaya" any longer, really.

- As in: two years shy of double digits.

- As in: seriously??! the baby we brought home from the hospital barely a blink ago? 

Goodness, he's growing up so fast. Just because practically every parent has said it before doesn't make the passage of time feel any less remarkable. 

I miss the little munchkin who would put both hands on the pantry door and demand " 'nack!" when he was hungry (which is to say: all the time). I miss the cheeky toddler peeking through his great big glasses, which made those ginormous chocolate drop eyes look even bigger. I miss the train-loving preschooler, the kindergartener climbing bus stairs that came to his knees, the little boy scampering around the house. 

But...

Goodness, I love having the privilege of a front-row seat as he grows. 

I love the big brother who is so patient with his younger sibling. I love the happy kid who laughs at the drop of a hat. I love the confident second-grader who has skipped (literally skipped!) off to school each morning these last two weeks in a foreign country with unfamiliar kids speaking an unknown language doing unfamiliar activities. 

And goodness, I still melt at those chocolate drop eyes (with eye lashes so paintbrusherly long that they sweep the inside of his glasses). 

So today we celebrated Josiah's birthday in style. Thouars was good to us and had a "Fête de la Gare" this morning—that is, a party/festival at the train station. It involved a big community yard sale, a couple of bouncy houses, a painting exhibit, and a free kiddie quad course. Fun!

 

From there, we came home and had a birthday lunch. 

Then it was time to open the cards that have been arriving all week...  

to read (scrutinize?) cards....

...and to be excited about cards (and about the Euros some of them enclosed!).

From there we moved on to opening presents

and showing 

(a) affection for presents:

(b) affirmation of presents:

and (c) utter delight with presents.

There was also plenty of laughing...and a bit of "cool dude" posing. As always.

In the afternoon Josiah went straight off with Daddy to spend the birthday money at a nearby shop, then returned to play with his new treasures. 

Soon enough it was dinner, outdoors again.

Josiah's meal request for the second (third?) year running? A big meat pie.  :) 

Then cake time. William was adamant that instead of getting Josiah a traditional gift, he wanted his gift to be the birthday cake. A "very, very, very, very sugary cake, with lots of chocolate." In addition to dictating the sugar content, William helped with the decorating. It was the fudgiest, richest cake ever, layers of buttery frosting, a thick ganache top. Mama Caz and Pop Pop joined us by Skype for the candle blowing and happy birthday singing (we could have used their help eating, too!).

There was just time at the end of the day to read the newly-arrived chapter of Nannan's amazing adventure book. And then it was bedtime for one happy, happy little big, 8-year-old boy.

---

Post-script:

I was just poking through photos of birthdays past, and I thought I'd include them here for fun:

The original birthday, moments after Mr. Wedged In Breech Baby emerged.

Ummm...I'm wearing the same shirt here on Josiah's first birthday that I wore today for his 8th...

A hot and humid birthday #2.

Still loving trains at 3.
(I remember this day for the endless Braxton Hicks contractions it brought,
with William's birth just a couple of weeks away).

Hooray for 4! We had celebrated outdoors with family but moved inside for cake as darkness fell.

Turning 5...

Apparently zero family pictures at 6. (Recognize the crown from today?)

Last year, turning 7, wearing the crown his teacher gave him at school that day.