Guilty

I swear I don't know where he gets these comments from. Yesterday, at lunch, Mikie turned to Mike, face covered in peanut butter and bread, and asked "Is there guilt written all over my face?"

I'm assuming he has heard someone (possibly a teacher) say "You have guilt written all over your face." Especially given the fact that Mikie IS frequently doing something he shouldn't.

Love, The Trahans

Hannah's Baptism

Poor Hannah. . . I don't know if it is because she's the second child or because she's so easy going, but she tends to be an after thought...On June 13th (before Trouble's graduation), we baptised Hannah. Like the little princess she is, it looked like she was holding court, sitting in Mike's arm looking around as if to say "Hello, adoring fans. Thank you for coming out to witness my special day. Feel free to bask in my glow."We were lucky to have a lots of family and friends in attendance, including Uncle Josh and Auntie Shell, Hannah's godparents. Even luckier, the weather was as nice as we could expect. The rain stayed away all day, which was fortunate, since we had close to fifty guests in attendance.

Best of all, Mikie slept through the ENTIRE service, waking up at the end to groggily kiss Hannah and pose for a family photo. . .

Love, The Trahans

The Graduate

I have been very behind in my blogging. But, it has been an eventful couple of weeks. Between Hannah rolling over and Mikie being attacked by fleas, Mikie graduated from preschool. It was quite the affair, complete with caps and gowns and a luau themed after party. If you have time for a laugh, click here to watch the video. The highlight is counting backwards in the song "Five Green and Speckled Frogs". It must not be a prerequisite for graduation since no one but the teacher could remember how many frogs were left. Mikie was holding up four fingers when they got down to zero frogs. . .

If you don't have time to watch the video (or, like Mike and I, will have kiddy songs stuck in your head for a week), see pictures below:As you can see, even Hannah got into the theme with a tiny lei bracelet. She had sandals that I purchased at Old Navy (they were gaudy and gold with flowers). In spite of the fact I think her chubby feet are big, they were way too small for the 3-6 month sandals. In true beach spirit, she was forced to go barefoot.As a graduation present, Mikie is now the proud owner of an ecotarium containing two dwarf frogs and a snail. If you're four, it's both fun AND educational. He named them Flippy, Tert, and Snaily. He wants everyone to know that "Snaily is the snail". In case you were confused. I get Flippy, but have no idea where "Tert" comes from. Either way, they are the perfect pets for our family. . . they get fed twice a week and cleaned once a month. And, the only cost (other than the $29.99 I paid for them and their habitat) is for bottled water once a month (they came with a two year supply of food). Hopefully, I didn't just jinx myself by bragging about how idiot proof they are.

Love, The Trahans

Chicken Pox

When I was dressing Mikie this morning, I noticed that he had a LOT of what I originally thought were bug bites all over his body. It seemed odd to have been bitten all over his front, back, and legs. My gut told me he could have chicken pox. Because that would be my luck. . .

Conveniently enough, we had a 9:15 appointment with the pediatrician for Hannah's four month check-up. I figured I could ask her to look at his spots while we were there. . .

When I arrived, I learned a very valuable lesson: if you are ever in dire need of seeing a pediatrician, and have no desire to wait, tell the receptionist your child may have chicken pox. Our conversation went like this:

Mom: "While I'm here, can anyone look at my son? He had what I thought were bug bites yesterday, but they are all over his body and I am concerned they might be chicken pox."

Receptionist: "Is he here now?"

Mom: "Yes."

Receptionist: panic in her voice "Is he in the waiting room?"

Mom: "Yes." Although, in my head, I am thinking, "No, I left him in the car so that I could be arrested. Of course he's in the waiting room!"

Receptionist: panic escalating to annoyance "He can't be in the waiting room!"

Mom: looking around "Well, where should he sit?"

Receptionist: pointing to a bench outside of the office "Outside on that bench."

Now, I'm just annoyed. I'm not stupid. I know that the chicken pox is highly contagious. But, looking around the office, the ONLY one who should be freaking out with worry is me. I'M the parent with a four month old infant, who has been showered with kisses from her spotted sibling. There are two other families in the office: a dad and his teenage daughter, and a mom with her teenage son. Both kids have either had chicken pox or been vaccinated for it (since the public schools all require it). And, since the staff manning the desk are all forty plus years old, I am assuming that, like me, they have probably had the chicken pox as well.

I call Trouble over, and have him sit on the floor next to me. Because, I am still checking us in and REFUSE to let my four year old sit outside by himself. Still panicking (and noticing that I am not removing my child from the office with any urgency), the receptionist calls a nurse.

So, after arriving at 8:50 for a 9:15 appointment, we were in a room by 8:55 and had a doctor sitting in front of us by 9am. All for. . . flea bites. Yes, Mikie was covered in FLEA BITES. Since we don't have pets (other than Mikie's new frogs and snail), I'm can't entirely explain this. But, I am thankful that it isn't chicken pox (since flea bites aren't contagious).

As if the pandemonium we caused amongst the office staff wasn't amusing enough, there were a few prize comments from Mikie. The first came when I tried to explain what was going on:

Mom: "Mikie, you have to stay in this room while I take Hannah to be weighted. The nurses think you're very sick. How crazy is that? You don't feel sick, do you?"

Mikie: "No."

Mom: "We think the bug bites on your body might be chicken pox. Chicken pox make you really itchy."

Mikie: "But chicken pox have chickens on them."

Mom: puzzled. . . struggling to figure out where he heard this from. . .

Mikie: "In Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Pete gets the chicken pox and they do the chicken dance and the spots go away."

Mom: "Well, that's just a cartoon. Unfortunately, it isn't that easy in real life."

The second conversation occurred while we were waiting for the nurse to come back with Hannah's vaccines:

Mikie: "Sing Hannah's song."

Mom: singing to Hannah and Mikie

Mikie: "Mom, sing it very loud so everyone can hear."

Mom: "Mikie, please spare me some of my dignity. I don't need to be known as that crazy lady singing songs about tinkle and poo to her kids." Yeah, I'm already known as the mother of the flea bitten child who thought he had chicken pox.

Let's just say that I couldn't leave the office fast enough. No sooner had I gotten my kids strapped into the car, then I realized I hadn't scheduled Hannah's six month appointment. I decided that it was going to take all my energy to get the kids to their respective daycare/summer camps and go to work, and that dragging them back inside just wasn't going to happen. I'll call later this week when the staff has forgotten the chaos we caused. Hopefully. . .

Love, The Trahans

Hannah Rolls Over

The title says it all. On Friday, June 19th (her four month birthday), Hannah regaled us with her new talent. . . the ability to roll over. There really isn't anything amusing about this, just pure cuteness. Although, as you can see in the video, she really works those abs in the process.

While we made a big deal of it, she seemed thoroughly annoyed. Not because she was stuck on her stomach, but rather that, after all her effort, Mike and Mikie returned back to chasing each other up the stairs to bed. I guess it's true what they say about the second child. . . they're somewhat forgotten. . .

Love, The Trahans

A Little Crazy

I'm not sure if parenthood makes you a little crazy, or if craziness is a prerequisite of the job. For instance, before kids, I would occasionally talk to myself. Typically, I would THINK I was talking to someone, then, realizing they had left the room, would continue to talk to myself by saying "Oh, no one's hear; I guess I'm talking to myself."

You would think that is bad enough. But, having kids has taken my craziness to a new level. First, there are the silly songs. I make up songs for everything. With Mikie, there was the "Mom Loves Mikie" song, the "Spit Up Song", and the ever popular "Snap the Snaps" song for those times when you are laying on the changing table, waiting for someone to snap your snaps. And so, I needed to have a song for Hannah. Something unique. Something like this.

And the craziness doesn't stop with silly songs. There is a plethora of nicknames. Because I can't just call my children by their ACTUAL names. Mikie was "Sir", "Mikie Bear", "Mister Peanut", "Peanut", "Squishy", "Sir Squishy", "Smeagle (rhymes with beagle), and the ever popular "Trouble" (among others). Again, we need names for Hannah. She has become "Nibbles", "Super Nibbles", "Niblet", "Hannah Banana", "Banana", "Tiny", "Mister Tiny", "Princess", "Princess Tinklepants", and the crowd pleaser "Princess Hannah, Duchess of Tinkledom, Countess of Flatulence".

I know. . . she will kill me when she's older. . .

However, the piece de resistance is the conversations. I have full conversations as if Hannah is talking to me. For example, here is one from dinner earlier this week:

Mom: as myself, while placing Hannah in her highchair "Banana, would you like to sit at the table?"

Hannah: smiling "AAAHHHHH".

Mom: still as myself "Here, let me give you your tray to bang on."

Hannah: angrily "AAAAHHHHH!"

Mom: as Hannah "Why do I need a tray? No one else has one."

Mom: as myself "Valid point, Hannah. I'll put it away."

No, I do not have multiple personalities. I just have this craziness that forces me to make up dialogues with my children. What's worse is I don't even realize I'm doing it. Mike and my cousin where making fun of me after the fact, and I didn't even know what they were talking about.

Someone should research this. If you can have Baby-brain while your pregnant, is it so far fetched to think that you could suffer from parental schizophrenia?

Love, The Trahans

O Brother, Where Art Thou?

I think I've mentioned it before, but Hannah loves her big brother. Actually, love may not be a strong enough word to describe how she feels. . . WORSHIPS is more accurate. If Hannah's crying, nine times out of ten, Mikie can get her to stop by coming over and talking to her.

This evening was a perfect example. We came home from dinner. Mike was upstairs giving Mikie a bath and getting him ready for bed. Hannah was downstairs with Krista and I, chatting away in her Exersaucer. And then she heard him. That voice, echoing through the house. Hark, I hear Brother. All of the sudden, she was craning her neck, kicking her legs, trying desperately to find him. You can see what I mean in this video.

I finally gave in and took her upstairs to give Mikie a kiss goodnight. She was so happy to see him, I figured I would let her stay up with them for story time while I made more formula. Mikie wanted Mike to snuggle him, but there was no way Mike could snuggle Mikie, hold Hannah, and read a story (or if he could, I am impressed). So, Hannah and Brother snuggled up in Mikie's bed and Mikie held the flashlight while Mike read The Cat in the Hat to them. As usual, she was elated to be near him. I wonder how long this will last. . .

Love, The Trahans

Phi Kap in Training

Mikie has a Leapfrog toy called a "Word Wammer". It has three slots to insert magnetic letters to spell words. There are different challenges: you can pick three random letters and when you press them, the toy sounds out the word, or it will tell you a word and you have to find the letters and put them in the right sequence to spell the word.

One morning while eating breakfast, Mikie was playing with the "Word Wammer". It was asking him to find the letters in the word "pug". I helped Mikie sound out the letters (and gave him hints as to what color the letters were to help him locate them faster). And, after a few minutes, he had successfully spelled the word "pug".

Once you spell a word correctly, it gives you a new challenge, like "create a word that rhymes with 'pug'" or "create a new word by changing a letter in the word 'pug'". I was distracted, trying to get two kids fed and in the car, so I didn't notice the new word Mikie created until we got home: P-U-B.

Yes, he spelled pub. By himself. No help. And while we were all amused, I'm sure Mike gave him a high five when reading stories at bed time.

Love, The Trahans

Diva

I don't think Hannah likes me very much. Don't get me wrong, when she's hungry and I walk in with a bottle, she appreciates me. Well, not right away (especially if I change her first). But, she usually warms up to me once she starts eating.

The pediatrician told me at our two month check-up that she should start "talking". Obviously, not "hey, mom, where's my bottle?" but rather "gaaaa" and "aaahhh" and other cute baby noises said with a serious or flirtatious expression LIKE she is talking. At the time, she wasn't saying anything. She moved her mouth and I think she believed she was talking. But, not a single peep came out. It was especially cute.

Recently, she DID start making noises. But, I noticed that, instead of cute babbling noises, Hannah growls at me. For example: after bath time last week, I let her stand on her changing table (standing being her new favorite activity). I told her I needed to lay her down to change her, which I proceeded to do, and she started YELLING at me. Sounds like "GRRRR!" and "RAAAHHR!" As if that wasn't cute enough, the expression on her face was PRICELESS. At 3 1/2 months, she has already learned how to fire daggers with her eyes. The combination of expression and growls were enough to communicate, "How DARE you clean me?!? And change my diaper? I have more important things to do then waist my time laying here."

I thought maybe my grouchiness may have been infectious. Until bath time two nights ago. Both kids were dirty (Hannah was covered in sunscreen and Mikie was covered in, what else, dirt). So, Mike made Trouble shower in our bathroom while I bathed Hannah in the guest bathroom. As usual, Hannah was none too happy when removed from the tub. While I was struggling to dry her off, Mikie came bounding in from the other bathroom. He stuck his face nose to nose and started singing the "distraction" song (his name, not mine). Immediately, Hannah stopped crying, smiled up at him and started cooing, as if singing along.

Shocked, I told Mikie "I think Hannah likes you more than me." To which he responded, "No, she loves all of us, Mom."

Yeah, that sounds like the canned response that I tell him when he says he doesn't have any friends. . .

If she's like this at 4 months, what will life be like when she's 16 and despises me. . .

Love, The Trahans

"A" is for Attitude

Mike can be quite a wise ass. When we watch the Red Sox, and a player comes up to bat that I don't recognize, we tend to have the following conversations:

Lauren: "Who is this loser?" Because, anyone I don't know is assumed to be a loser.

Mike: "Bailey."

Lauren: "I gathered that from the name on his jersey. Who is Bailey?"

Mike: "A baseball player."

Lauren: "Thank you, Captain Obvious. I know he is a baseball player, since I am watching the game. Is he new? Is he up from Pawtucket? Where did he come from?"

You can see where I am going. He thinks he is incredibly funny. And, unfortunately for me, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Every Friday at "school", Mikie's class celebrates the letter of the week by bringing in an item from home that begins with the letter they studied that week. Mikie refers to it as "Bring a Toy to School Day." But, I am sure the teachers didn't intend for it to be restricted to toys. Last week was letter "T" week. Since Mikie is starting kindergarten, I was asking him questions to help him practice his letters:

Mom: "So, if this week is letter 'T' week, what letter is next week?"

Mikie: singing the alphabet to himself "W."

Mom: "No, just regular 'U'."

Mikie: "Oh. What begins with 'U'?"

Mom: "Umbrella. . . underpants. . . "

Mikie: "Mom, what is something fun that begins with 'U'?"

Mom: ". . . underwater. . . utensils. . . "

Mikie: "Mom, it needs to be a tu-tu-tu-TOY. That's why it's called 'Bring a TOY to School'."

He sounded just like me when I am sounding out the letters, trying to help him figure out what letter something starts with. As if I didn't understand the word. Or, didn't know what the difference between underpants and a toy were. As if that wasn't bad enough, he reminded us again today by asking "What's something fun that begins with 'U' and don't say 'umbrella' or 'underpants'."

Feel free to send your suggestions, as I only have three more days to come up with a "U" item that is "fun".

Love, The Trahans

Take this Job. . .

In the summer months, I try and work "summer hours". This entails working 8am to 5pm Monday through Thursday, and 8am to 2:30pm on Friday. It gives me a couple extra hours on Friday to go to the farm stand, play mini golf, or just enjoy being outside with Mikie. I don't know why I kill myself to work summer hours, because, the reality is I NEVER get out of work on time. But that's a different story altogether.

Last week was the start of summer hours. And, with Mike out of town (which means I get to bed later), it was impossible to get two kids up, dressed, and out the door by 7am. By Friday, my patience was worn thin, and my frustration was very visible.

Mikie: "Mom, why are you so mad at me."

Mom: "I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself."

Mikie: "Why are you mad at yourself."

Mom: "Because, I just want to get to work on time ONCE this week. And, once again, I'm going to be late. And, people can lose their jobs if they are late all the time. Mommy won't lose her job, but I just like to be ON-TIME. . . ONCE."

Mikie: "Mom, you should just quit your job."

Mom: "Mikie, I'm not going to quit my job. I like my job."

Mikie: "But, if you ask your boss for a raise, and he says 'No', then you should just quit."

I sat there, confused, thinking "Where does he get this stuff from?" I was about to worry that he thought I didn't spend enough time with him and WANTED me to quit my job. And then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the "Jetsons" DVD on the passengers seat.

Note to self, give Mikie a more realistic view of career goals, success, and workplace etiquette before he gets a job. Otherwise, he is going to be in for a reality check when he finds out not everyone works Monday through Wednesday and plays gin rummy with their computer.

Love, the Trahans

If You Want Something Done. . .

just do it yourself.

All of us (well, not sure about Hannah, yet) have seasonal allergies. We ALWAYS have Sudafed and various assorted antihistamines in the house (Claritin, Benadryl, Zyrtec, Allegra, etc.) But, this season, our allergies hit us harder than ever. Mine flared into a full blown sinus infection before I knew what hit me. And my husband, Sneezy. . . I mean Mike, was also hit hard.

Here is what differs between Mike and I. When I realize I can't manage my symptoms with over-the-counter medication, I go see a doctor for prescription drugs. Because, after all, God would have given us the knowledge to come up with prescription drugs if he didn't intend us to use them. And, what's the point of paying for health and prescription drug insurance if you aren't going to use it?

Mike on the other hand prefers to suffer in silence. Except, he isn't very silent. Every morning, I hear him hacking up a lung in the shower. And, every evening, he passes out in his dinner from all the antihistamine he is consuming over the course of the day.

While Mike refused to seek professional medical help, our grass grew. And grew. And GREW. Mike did attempt to mow the grass, but only made it through the front yard before giving up. He refuses to wear a mask because it fogs up his sunglasses. After a week of not letting Mikie play on his swingset, I decided to cut the grass myself.

Let me start by saying, I had only mowed the lawn one other time in my life (while Mike went to a bachelor party in Vegas). Since we now had a ride on mower, I thought, "it can't be THAT hard." And, honestly, I half expected Mike to see the effort I was making and come out to my rescue.

Unfortunately, while we differ in our pursuit of medical attention when sick, we are both equally stubborn. Every time I stalled and had to ask Mike what I was doing wrong, he was content to come outside and show me, and then go back into the air conditioning with the kids. And, if he was too stubborn to come out and take over, I was only more determined to mow the damn lawn myself.Three and a half hours later, covered in grass stains, our 3/4 of an acre yard was neatly trimmed. Granted, there were a fair amount of areas to go back and get with the weedwacker. But, overall, it looked pretty good.

THANKFULLY, Mike FINALLY went to the doctor and got a prescription for Singulair. In combination with his Zyrtec and Sudafed, his eyes and nose are no longer running. So, he was able to cut the grass himself this weekend.

Love, The Trahans

Hannah Turns 3. . .

months, that is. When Mikie was born, my mom gave us a photo cube. You were supposed to put his picture at 3, 6, 9, and 12 months on each face of the cube. Unfortunately, we didn't ever remember to take Mikie's pictures. So, we decided to use it for Hannah.

We didn't bother having professional pictures taken prior to now, because she couldn't smile until she was a month old. And, in reality, she didn't exactly smile on cue until recently. So, I wasn't sure how she would do.

I know people would tell us she's cute even if she wasn't (because, it's what you say), but I don't think you can look at this face and not melt:There is one photo in particular that looks EXACTLY like a picture of me as a child. I have been scouring the house looking for it. So, I'm saving the other pictures until I find it.

Love, The Trahans

Lost Boy

After a long Friday, we decided to rendezvous in Connecticut for Mexican food. Mikie, Hannah and I sat down to milk, a bottle, and a strawberry daiquiri (respectively). By the time Mike and Krista arrived, and we ate dinner, I was ready for a break from Mikie. Since we drove separately, I convinced Mike to take my car and drive the kids home.

As Krista and I pulled into the driveway, we saw Mikie, standing near the closed garage doors, looking lost. Mike was no where to be seen.

Mom: "Mikie, why are you standing outside?"

Mikie: "I was trying to get in to tell Dad something."

We're really NOT bad parents. In reality, Mikie asked to play outside, which Mike let him do. He specifically left the door to the deck open so that Mikie could come in and out. Unfortunately, Mikie didn't realize this; hence the confusion.

And so was born the joke of the weekend:

Mikie: "Knock, knock"

Dad: "Who's there?"

Mikie: "Mikie"

Dad: "Mikie who?"

Mikie: "Let me in, you moron."

Okay, I take back the "we're good parents" comment. Mike did teach our son the word "moron."

Love, The Trahans

McDonald's

Mikie loves McDonald's. Not for the food (at least, I don't think for the food). He loves McDonald's for the "toy surprises". I thought that he understood which places offered "toy surprises" (McDonald's, Wendy's, Burger King) versus the restaurants which don't (Friendly's). Not exactly. . .

This weekend, we went to Boston Beer Works with my cousins, James and Krista. I am realizing that 90% of the time, only one of my kids will be happy. While Hannah was content to sit in her stroller, kick her feet and flirt with the ceiling fixtures, Mikie was not as happy. Still annoyed by the fact that we were going on the tour of Fenway instead of playing mini golf and eating ice cream, he was particularly whiney and demanding. When the waitress came to take our order, Mikie ordered a hotdog and french fries. And, after we were all done ordering our food he yelled in his own exasperated way, "And can you bring me a toy surprise." As if she had some nerve making him sit all this time without his toy.

Unfortunately, while I tried to explain to him that they don't have toy surprises at all restaurants, the waitress only made matters worse by saying "I'll go look for one." Which, to a four year old means "Sure, I'll get you one right now." Needless to say, she didn't find one, which added only added to the whining that regaled us through lunch.

Hopefully, when she has kids, some waitress will do her the same favor.

Love, The Trahans

Public Indecency

Imagine for a moment you are in a parking garage. You are heading to your car, having just finished a day of sightseeing, shopping, or maybe even a long day of work. You put the car in gear, back out of your parking space, and head for the exit. As you round the corner, there in front of you, illuminated by your headlights, is the rear end of a four year old, exposed for all to see while he pees in the middle of the parking garage.

Had you been parked on the upper level of the Boston Common parking garage between 8 and 9pm on Saturday, you would have had an experience not unlike what I described above.

In Mikie's defense, he REALLY had to pee, and every time he asked Mike if he could pee, he said "not here". So, I can understand why he felt the need to act on his own.

In Mike's defense, I don't think it would have been legal if he let Mikie pee on Boston Common. And, since there were a fair amount of police officers around, it was probably a good thing that Mikie listened.

Let me just say it was pretty amusing to watch Mike frantically pick up Mikie and race him to a corner, all while trying to avoid getting peed on. I'm sure it would have been less amusing had I been the one to have to move him!

Love, The Trahans

Little Quackers

This weekend, my Aunt Maureen and Cousin Krista came to visit. Since they had never been to Boston, we decided to do my favorite activity, take a Duck Tour. Thankfully, the weather was beautiful, because I wasn't looking forward to driving around in an amphibious vehicle if it was cold and rainy. Here are some pictures:

The motley crew.I like this picture because you can see that Hannah does indeed have red hair. Or, you can on my computer before I upload to blogger. If you can't see it, trust me, it's there.Mikie driving the boat. He wanted to make sure that everyone knew his name.Nibbles driving the boat. By far the cutest (and probably the youngest) duck driver ever.

Love, The Trahans

Strawberry Head

CUTENESS ALERT!

Today I found a very cute hat in Hannah's closet. I think someone gave it to Mikie when he was a baby (which is somewhat silly when you think of him wearing it).Isn't she cute!

Love, The Trahans

The Princess and the Pee

Mikie and Hannah are four and a half years apart. So, for the last few years (especially since Mikie learned to use the potty), I forgot how much your life with a baby revolves around bodily functions. I'm serious. Since they can't talk, you pay WAY to much attention to these things to effectively diagnose if their is a problem. How many diapers does she wet a day? How many bowel movements does she have a day/week? What color and consistency are they? Does she spit up? Is it just spit up or projectile vomit? If you have kids, you know what I'm talking about.

Poor Princess Tinklepants was constipated after switching to soy formula. Yes, I call her Princess Tinklepants. Mostly because diaper changes occasionally turn into the water show at the Bellagio as she manages beautiful displays of tinkle, showering all over the changing table.

But I digress. Mikie and I took Princess Tinklepants to the pediatricians after a week of constipation had resulted in her spitting up entire contents of bottles and not eating. In spite of everything, she was happy as a lark. But, no amount of sugar water would help this kid poop. While I was trying to explain every home remedy we tried, the doctor took Hannah and took off her diaper to check her.

No sooner did the diaper come off then Hannah managed to move her bowels. And, in my excitement, I yelled "YEAH, A BIG POOP!" Too which the doctor responded, "I've never seen anyone get so excited about poop before."

And that is when I realized I had a serious problem. Or, was a VERY devoted parent.

Love, The Trahans.

The Hockey Clinic

Mikie has always professed to love hockey. And, during every skating class he has attended, all he asks to do is play hockey on the ice with a puck and a stick. Unfortunately, I've been reluctant to sign him up for hockey because of the investment. More than just the cost to join, you need to pay for all the equipment. It wouldn't bother me if I knew he was going to really love playing. It's the thought that I may spend a small fortune outfitting him with miniature hockey gear only to have him hate playing after one day on the ice that makes me cringe.

So, I was happy to hear that FMC Hockey and the Boston Bruins were running hockey clinics for 4-7 year-olds around the state. Perfect. They provided all the equipment. Mikie got to enjoy playing hockey. And, best of all, it was FREE.

Since we were celebrating a belated Easter the next day with Mike's family, I decided that Hannah and I should stay home and run errands while the boys went to the clinic. Mike promised to take lots of video so we could relive his experience.

Mike had a very different opinion of what his experience should be like. Rather than doing drills like the other kids (which he considered to be a waste of ice time), he spent much of his time off in his own world, hitting pucks towards the goals. For the brave who have five minutes to spare, you can view the video footage here. I did do you all a favor by speeding it up, since none of the kids skate that fast (it was torturous even for his parents to watch).

And, for those of you who don't feel a strong desire to watch Mikie skate attempt to skate, you can get a chuckle from the pictures below:Go Bruins!

Love, The Trahans