The Big Day

Today was the big day. Or at least it was a big day for me. Mikie's first day of school. Mikie and I weren't on different wavelengths, because, as you can see from the video, he seemed to think this was no different than any other day. He would go to school (albeit different from where he usually goes), Hannah would go to daycare, and Mom would go to work.

I of course was (am) a sappy emotional mess. I waited at school to take pictures of him getting on the bus. Then, I drove to the school to take pictures and video of him getting off the bus. I admit, I did cry. Although, I managed to keep from crying until AFTER Mikie was in school so I didn't have to deal with the exasperated look he would give me.

On my drive from the school to work, I remembered sending him to daycare for the first time. He was eight weeks old, and everyone told me I would cry when I left him. He and I were both fine, neither of us crying. I told people that we appreciated each other more having our time apart. So, I never would have guessed that kindergarten would be my emotional downfall.

I attempted to load this video twice. The original video was set to Natalie Merchant (yes, I know, it was sappy and cheesey, and when you are a mom, you can mock me). After two failed attempts uploading to YouTube, I finally succeeded, only to get a message from YouTube that portions of the video were copywrited. So, back to the drawing board. No Natalie Merchant. This time the audio is Mikie detailing his first day's activities.

Love, The Trahans

What's Wrong With This Picture?

I like to say that absent-mindedness is a sign of intelligence. Mostly because I can't blame my forgetfulness on other things (old age, pregnancy, etc.). . .

Two weeks ago, I took Mikie for a haircut. The "salon" (I don't know that you can call the kiddy equivalent of Hair Cuttery a "salon") looks you up in the system based on the last four digits of your phone number. One small problem: I could not remember the last four digits of my phone number. After 30 seconds, I succeeded in blurting out four digits. As the girl struggled to find us in the system, I realized my mistake and said "Wait, no, those are the last four digits of my social security number." So, now everyone knows I have memory issues. Instead of pulling out my cell phone to look up my phone number, I stare at Mikie, as if my five year old knows the answer. He didn't. But, eventually, I did come up with the number, and we succeeded in getting Mikie's haircut.

I thought that was bad. I can remember every ingredient in every one of the thirty-five formulas I have launching this fall, but I can't remember my phone number. However, today trumped all previous not-so-senior moments. . .

Today was Mikie's kindergarten orientation. Mike took the afternoon off and drove an hour and a half to attend. As Mikie dragged us around every inch of the crowded, un-air conditioned classroom, Mike comments "They have Hannah's birthday." Not sure what he meant, I walked over to the birthday board to see this:What's wrong with this picture? Mikie was born on September 6th; HANNAH was born on February 19th. Why would the teacher put the wrong birthday down? Because Mikie's mom cannot accurately fill out simple school enrollment forms correctly.

And so, I made a GREAT first impression on Mikie's teacher. My first time meeting her and I had to say, "Hi, I'm Lauren Trahan, Mikie's mom. I don't know my kid's birthday."

Small consolation: if I'm bad for writing down the wrong birthday, how bad is the administrative office that didn't think to question why they were admitting a kindergartner born in 2009?

Love, The Trahans

The Pick-Up Line

Because Hurricane Bill was wreaking havoc on our favorite beach, we spent this weekend cooling off at a water park near our house. It was very relaxing. Hannah enjoyed floating around the lake, watching Mikie demonstrate his swimming moves. Mike and Mikie enjoyed the water slides. And, Grandma Pookie and I enjoyed relaxing.

Right before we left, Mikie, chick magnet extraordinaire, attracted the attention of a three year old girl, Zoe. Zoe "swam" by a few times, trying to attract Mikie's attention (to no avail). When we complemented her on her swimming skills, Mikie came over to regale Zoe's parents with his ability to blow bubbles in the water. To which Zoe responded, "I can blow bubbles with my butt." Ah, love in bloom. . .

Even more amusing than Zoe's pick-up line was Mikie's. At one point he yelled "Come meet your Destiny!" Don Juan? No. Just a five year old quoting lines from Star Wars. Until we enlightened Zoe's parents, they were pretty amused with his pick-up line.

God help us when he actually has interest in girls. . .

Love, The Trahans

Major Milestones

Six months, slightly over 16 pounds, and Hannah sits up! She still has her moments. If brother runs by, and she turns her head, down she goes. But, if she has something directly in front of her to occupy her attention, she is pretty good at keeping her balance: Which brings me to Hannah's next talent: impersonating a cat. Her new favorite toy is a cage type ball with another mirrored ball inside. Not unlike a big cat toy. It reminds me of that old Saturday Night Live skit where Will Ferrell and Vince Vaughn are cat toy salesmen who need to "road test" all of the new products. If you haven't seen the skit, you can find it here. If you have, then you can further appreciate Hannah playing with her new toy (click on the picture below to see the video).Love, The Trahans

Picture Day

Since Mikie is fast approaching the big 0-5, and Hannah is now six months old, we decided to take them both to have their pictures taken. We arrived at 10:30 am and were finished around lunch time. I don't know which was more exhausting, getting Hannah to smile, getting Mikie to smile normally (ie, not a cheese plastered on smile), or selecting what to order. While we were immersed in the chaos , I was expecting the shoot to yield a bunch of horrible pictures. However, I am impressed with the results:

HannahTrouble & Super NibblesAnd then there was Mikie:

This picture of Mikie makes me cry. Because, when I look at him every day, I don't notice how big he has gotten (although I tease him anytime he makes me lift him that he must have gotten bigger while I was at work). Then, I see these pictures and realize he is not a baby anymore. . . tall and lanky. . . just under four feet tall. . . 45 pounds. . . starting kindergarten on Wednesday. It seems like only yesterday he was blonde and chubby and looked like this: If I am this sentimental on Saturday, wait until my first day of school post on Wednesday. . .

Love, The Trahans

Another Mikie Moment

Last week, I had to get my car inspected, a task made all the more interesting (challenging) having the kids with me.

At 5pm, we pulled into the gas station. I love this gas station because it is a) located on my way home from work, b) is full serve only, c) participates in the discount gas program with the grocery store, and d) will inspect my car while I wait. . . something my car dealership doesn't do. Unfortunately, they are a gas station with a convenience store that is smaller than my closet (no lie). So, while my car is on a riser in a garage, I'm forced to stand outside and wait. Normally, I wouldn't mind. But, it happened to be 86 degrees outside and I had two tired children with me. . .

In my infinite wisdom, I decided to buy Mikie a snack in the convenience store. Unfortunately, they don't sell perishable items. . . including milk. While most kids would HAPPILY drink a soda or juice, Mikie is NOT most kids. If he can't drink milk, he will begrudgingly drink water. As I reached for a water and small bag of Oreos, Mikie picked up a bag of Oreo Cakesters. Conversation ensued:

Mom: "Those aren't real Oreos."

Mikie: "I know. They're Cakesters."

So, either he learned how to read, or he had Oreo Cakesters at school. The second option seemed more plausible, so I gave in. While I paid, Mikie struck up a conversation with the cashier (who happened to be the owner):

Mikie: "Hey! What do you think of my sister?"

Owner: looking at me "What did he say?"

Mikie: "Do you like my sister? Don't you think she's cute?"

Mom: embarrassed, "Mikie, come outside."

Of course, Mikie quickly realized that he does NOT like Cakesters, and that he needs to feed them to an ant. And, since he has given his snack to an insect, he needs real Oreos. As he gets up to go inside and help himself, I inform him that he will not be buying more cookies because I was out of money.

Finally, the car was ready. As I loaded the brood into the car, Mikie yells to the owner: "Hey, guy. Next time, get some milk, or we're never going to come here again."

I don't know where he gets his attitude from. Must be Mike. . .

Love, The Trahan

Bathtime

Working late means the kids and I don't get home until close to 7pm. Since they both go to bed at 8pm, I have a little over an hour to make dinner for Mikie, feed Hannah (solid food plus juice plus a bottle of formula), and bathe both kids before it's time for bed. And (in an ideal world) I have time to eat and play with them.

Unfortunately, this doesn't leave me with enough free time to perfect cloning myself. So, I am forced to find other ways to accomplish all of these tasks. The simplest solution: bathe both kids at the same time.

This is easier said then done. The easiest solution would be to bathe Hannah in her baby tub in my bathroom while Mikie takes a shower. But, Mikie LOVES baths. And Hannah LOVES anything related to Mikie: him or his toys. So, I struggle to hold Hannah in a sitting (or standing) position in the tub while Mikie splashes around her. It gets particularly hairy when soap is involved, as soapy wet babies are as slippery as greased pigs (so I would imagine, having never actually held a greased pig). I am slowly perfecting the routine: fill tub, put both kids in tub, clean Hannah while she is entertained by toys/Mikie, remove Hannah from the tub, dry her off and put a diaper on her, shampoo and condition Mikie's hair, entertain Hannah while Mikie cleans himself/splashes/floats/swims in the tub, drain the tub.

And now for the embarrassing naked pictures: As you can see, Hannah spends most of her time biting the basketball hoop, which is why all of her photos are of her wrinkly bum. Mikie doesn't sit still for long. Actually, Mikie doesn't SIT (preferring to completely immerse himself in water), so this is the closest we came to getting a picture of them together:

It probably isn't faster, but it does "save water for the fish" (a concept Mikie has recently become concerned about), and, if nothing else, is amusing.

Love, The Trahans

The Burger Drama

Mikie's daycare has a hot lunch program in conjunction with one of the local restaurants. For $5, you can sign up for a sandwich, hotdog, hamburger, or daily special, along with a drink, and side (typically fruit and chips). Very convenient for those mornings where I lack motivation to make Mikie a lunch (usually because I am racing out the door at the last minute). Mikie is VERY picky about what he will eat: turkey on white bread (in spite of the fact that he doesn't eat the bread) with mustard (he won't eat it without) or a hotdog with ketchup, mustard, and NO bun. If I don't get the order right, I typically get a lecture on how I should "always make him a lunch from home."

Monday ended up being a school lunch day for the Trahans. And, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would have SWORN that I checked hotdog on the lunch menu. But, when I dropped Mikie off on Tuesday morning, the teacher informed me that I had made a mistake and they ordered him a hamburger. Since Mikie hadn't mentioned it, I assumed it was no big deal.

On Tuesday evening, a second teacher asked me if anyone told me about the "Burger Drama". Evidently, as the teacher was passing out the lunches, she noticed Mikie stand up, walk over to the trash can, and throw his ENTIRE lunch bag in the trash. Confused, she went over, took the lunch out of the trash and opened the bag to find his hamburger and sides, completely untouched. When she questioned him, he told her he didn't like anything and would just eat ketchup.

Thankfully, they had some extra hotdogs from the camp cook-out and made him a hotdog for lunch, so he didn't have to go on a hunger strike.

He wouldn't survive a day in catholic school. I can still hear the nuns lecturing me because I didn't finish eating all of my peanut butter sandwich. . .

Love, The Trahans

A Girl After My Own Heart

My dad loves to tell people how, as a child, I tried to convince him that I had two stomachs: one for dinner, and a second one for dessert. So, no matter how little I ate of my dinner, I was never too full for dessert.

In comparison, Mikie seemed nothing like me. When I was pregnant with him, I threw up every time I tried to consume chocolate, no matter how small the amount. By the end of my nine months, abstaining from chocolate, I was convinced I was carrying someone else's child I will admit, since birth, he has redeemed himself. Taking after me, he now eats ice cream no matter what time of day or how cold it is outside. He drinks every last melted drop of his ice cream and then asks if he can "have a taste" of yours. Like the official tasters in a royal court. . .

Hannah on the other hand has been a chocolate lover since the beginning. She seemed to crave it in utero. I'm thankful that she doesn't have teeth, because I think she would bite us in a fit of rage every time we go to Friendly's and flaunt our frozen desserts in front of her. She literally salivates over the menu. I took these pictures on one of our recent trips:That's my girl. . . if I can't have the real thing, I'm going to eat this menu! Let's hope her lactose issues don't last beyond her first birthday. Otherwise, I'm going to buy stock in whoever makes Lactaid.

Unfortunately, I now need to figure out how my parents got around that dessert stomach argument before she can use it against me.

Love, The Trahans

Killer Baby

Before I had Mikie, I always imagined I would have two kids, spaced three years apart. Mostly because Katie and I are three years apart in age, and I think we get along well together. I feared if my kids were born too close together, the oldest would be too young to appreciate the youngest. If they were born too far apart, they wouldn't be close because they wouldn't have anything in common. . .

Then Mikie turned two, and there was no way Mike or I could muster the energy to have a second. Especially if child number two had anything near Mikie's activity level. And so, three years turned into almost five years difference in age.

I guess things do work out for the best, because, so far, Mikie and Hannah are enamored with each other. Hannah is content to watch Mikie eat, play, bathe, watch cartoons, etc. for prolonged periods of time. And Mikie is the first to try and comfort her when she cries.

I will admit, there are times Mikie wishes Hannah were older. Best example, I picked them both up from daycare in June. To make my life a little easier, Mikie's teacher walked him over to Hannah's classroom at the end of the day, so I only had to stop in one place. All the girls loved to watch Mikie entertain them each afternoon. As I loaded everyone into the car, Mikie told me that "Campbell is a baby, but she WALKS." As if to imply that we got a dud. . .In spite of the fact that Hannah can't walk, this video is a perfect example of how much fun they have together. It reminds me of the scene from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" with the Killer Bunny. She may not have huge sharp teeth, but she can drown you in drool!

Love, The Trahans

Kids Bouncing on Trampolines

I was tempted to title this "Shaken Baby Syndrome", but figured child welfare services would definitely wake me up in the morning to take away my kids. As it is, when you see the video, you may question why they haven't come already. Please note, Hannah is ecstatically happy the entire time. In fact, bouncing with Mikie is one of her favorite activities (evident by the look of hero worship plastered on her face). Actually, doing anything with Mikie or near Mikie makes her happy. I wonder how long that will last. . .

Love, The Trahans

Mikie Says the Darndest Things

By the time I arrived home with the kids last night, we were too tired to cook. So, we headed off to TGI Fridays (appropriately, since it WAS Friday). And, as with any outing with Mikie, he came up with some great one-liners.

For background, Mikie had returned from a field trip to the Mystic Aquarium where he purchased an octopus. Originally, he told us it was a squid, aptly named "Squidy". But, Krista thought it was an octopus. And, since none of us knew the difference between a squid and an octopus, Mike googled it. Squid have fins on the sides of their heads while octopi do not. And, octopi tend to be smaller than squid.

Of course, once we determined that the toy was indeed an octopus, Krista asked Mikie if it had a different name, since "Squidy" seemed inappropriate now. To which Mikie replied, "Its name is Octopussy."

After dinner, Mike was carrying Mikie out of the restaurant. For whatever reason, there was a police officer standing at the door. As we walked past him, Mikie announces amidst a fit of giggles, "I am an ice cream mobile." The officer chuckled, not really knowing how to respond. As Mike continued to drag him out of the restaurant, he yelled back "Actually, my name is Mikie Trahan." As random Friday's patrons were turning to stare and laughing, he added, "I'm expensive!" Understatement of the year. . .

Love, The Trahans

Like Mother Like Daughter

Or brother? When Mikie was born, I always said he looked like me. He obviously has Mike's coloring, but I still believe he has a lot of my facial features. However, as he has gotten older, people argue more and more that he looks exactly like Mike. Mike RARELY drives to Connecticut to pick Mikie up from daycare, so some of the staff don't know him. Each time he has gone, all I hear the next day is "Mikie looks EXACTLY like his dad" or "I had never met your husband, but as soon as he walked in, I said, 'You must be Mikie's dad'."

As any woman who carried a child around for nine months and gave birth to him, it's pretty frustrating to not get credit for doing so. All I wanted was for ONE of my kids to look like me.

In spite of Hannah having red hair, everyone tells me how much she looks like Mikie. And, I will agree that they look alike. But, I still believe she looks like me too. So, I am posting pictures to prove my point:

MomHannahMikieHannah

So, if Hannah looks like me, and Hannah looks like Mikie, does that prove that Mikie also looks like me?

Love, The Trahans

Father Michael

I will admit, in the month since we baptized Hannah, we have been so busy with sick kids, work, traveling, birthday parties, etc, that we haven't been back to church. So, we are somewhat confused as to when Mikie became so religious. Recently, he has started saying "Amen" to EVERYTHING. For example:

Mom: "Mikie, how about Dunkin Donuts for breakfast?"

Mikie: "AMEN!"

We'll have to break him of this habit before we go back to church.

Love, The Trahans

Don't Leave Home

I always said I would never have more than two kids. When you have two kids, one person can leave town and life is still manageable. After all, you have two hands, so you can still grab on to each one and keep them from running into traffic. That was before I had two kids.

Mike has been traveling for business more frequently. Since I am the one who takes the kids to daycare/camp every day, I wasn't expecting life to be any less convenient. With Mike home, my day typically consists of: wake up, get ready for work, wake up Mikie, get him ready for camp, pack lunches for both kids, wake up Hannah, get her ready for daycare, load all kids and accessories into SUV, drive 40 minutes to daycare, drop off Hannah, drive 10 minutes to camp, drop off Mikie, drive 3 minutes to work, work 8 1/2 hours, pick up Mikie, pick up Hannah, drive home, unload car, make dinner for Mikie, feed Hannah, make dinner for grown ups. By the time Mike arrives home and we have eaten, we can then divide and conquer: Mike bathes Mikie and puts him to bed; I bathe and feed Hannah and put her to bed, then Mike typically cleans up from dinner and empties everyone's lunchboxes.

So, when Mike leaves town, my schedule becomes even more complicated. Both kids have ended up in the tub together (which they both love, but is a little nerve racking since Hannah is little and slippery, and Mikie causes tidal waves with all the movement and splashing). Both kids read bedtime stories together. And, I end up doing all the dishes by myself.

On its own, all of that makes for an EXHAUSTING day. It's hard to imagine it getting any worse, right?

WRONG. On Monday evening, Hannah had a meltdown. Never in my life have I heard a cry like this. If I closed my eyes, the image it conjured up was that of someone on fire. When she would BRIEFLY stop crying, she was hyperventilating. I tried everything: food, lukewarm bath, checking her toes for hairs wrapped around them, taking her temperature, a suppository in case she was constipated, baby Tylenol in case she was teething. After two hours, I broke down and called the pediatrician, knowing they were going to have me drive to the pediatric ER 40 MINUTES AWAY.

In route, Hannah settled down and fell asleep. Before going all the way back home, I decided to stop at Target and see what happened when she woke up. As with all Target trips, I ended up buying a lot more than I intended. Probably in large part because, for the first time all night, Hannah was happy and smiling. Boy, if impulse shopping cheers her up at 4 months, we are going to have problems when she hits 16. . .

Unfortunately, the moment we left the store, Hannah was hysterical again. All the way to Worcester, through the parking garage, and into the revolving door to the ER. And, Murphy's Law, the minute we emerged in the waiting room on the other side, silence. Not just silence; after she stopped hyperventilating, she was smiling and flirting with the staff.

The resident in the ER was useless, and we went home close to midnight with no conclusive diagnosis and instructions to follow up with our pediatrician in the morning.

I fell asleep around 1:30am, only to be greeted at 6am by Mikie, announcing that he had "a barky seal cough". Surely this was a joke. He could not possibly have croup. He just got over an episode not two months ago. He must be lying in hopes of eating a popsicle for breakfast. Then, I heard him cough and realized he wasn't lying.

To recap, not 24 hours after Mike left town, I had two sick kids on my hands. Dr. Mikie was correct in his self-diagnosis of croup. And, Hannah ended up with a mild ear infection and a head cold.

And so, I have decided that, as with most of my preconceived notions on parenting, my thoughts on being able to handle two kids by myself was naive.

Thankfully, Mike is back home, and hopefully won't have to travel again soon. If so, I may seriously consider hiring a babysitter to move in for the week.

Love, The Trahans

Life as Mikie's Mom

Here is what happened today when I picked Mikie up from camp:

Mom approaches door of school. Door is locked. Mom rings doorbell and waits for teacher to let her in. Teacher comes to door. Conversation ensues:

Teacher: "Mikie gave me quite a scare today. . ."

Mom: realizing Mikie had a swim lesson "Ugh. Did he almost drown again?"

Teacher: looking at me like I was crazy "No, he locked himself in the bathroom."

Mom: laughing "Oh. Sorry, he does that at home too. Did he tell you he needed 'privacy'? I usually keep a key above all the doors so that I can pick the lock."

Teacher: "I was trying to figure out, can I shimmy this with a credit card? But I had no way to get it open. I was screaming, 'Press the button'!"

Mom: "He always opens it eventually. He locked me out of a stall at Babies 'R Us two weeks ago. . . one with a bolt. I thought I was going to have to squeeze under a stall."

Realizing that the other parents and kids were looking at me, as if to say "this isn't the way a normal parent should react", I walked off to find Mikie. I found him playing Legos on the floor in one of the classrooms. I looked and noticed that the front of his shorts were wet.

Mom: "Mikie, why are your shorts wet."

Mikie: "Kaden made me laugh and I had an accident."

Mom: "Did you tell anyone?"

Mikie: "I thought you would be mad."

Mom: exasperated "Mikie, you have to tell someone when you have an accident so that you can change your clothes."

Mikie: "Want to hear Kaden's joke? He made his frog say 'Time to tuck-in for bed.' Isn't that funny?"

Okay, I get laughing so hard you pee your pants. But, I was expecting a REALLY funny joke. In my mind, this doesn't qualify.

I changed his clothes, hustled him off to the car, and we went to pick up Hannah. But, I wonder, why does this happen to me? I see other parents walk in each morning, their kids carrying their own lunchbox. I look like a tornado hit me each morning, Mikie running into school with me walking behind, hauling lunch, changes of clothes, baseball gloves, etc. And, every evening, as if I haven't learned my lesson, I walk right back into the eye of the storm.

At least I have amusing stories to tell. . .

Love, The Trahans

What's Wrong With This Picture

On Monday, I arrived at camp to pick Mikie up. He had his first swimming lesson earlier in the day, so I wasn't surprised to find him wearing different clothes than when I left. However, I'm not sure how he managed this:

Somehow, he managed to get his shorts on backwards, in spite of the fact that the snap was snapped and the zipper was up.

None of the staff noticed, until they saw me taking his picture in the parking lot. . .

I don't know why I continue to be surprised, but I am. You would think I would be conditioned by this point. . .

Love, The Trahans

Welcome to Boston

If you love the sound of a Boston accent, look no further than the Trahan household. Yes, my worst fears have become reality. . . Mikie talks like a Mass-hole.

I can't pinpoint when or how it happened. First, it was the occassional dropped 'r', like "cah" (translation: car) and "falk" (translation: fork). Next thing I know, EVERYTHING out of his mouth that has an 'o' or 'a' now sounds like the "aw" in Yawkey Way. Some examples from this weekend. I apologize in advance because I have no idea how to represent this phonetically. . .

"Mowm" = Mom

"Take the bun awf my haut dawg" = Take the bun off my hot dog

The best is when Mikie tells "knawk-knawk" jokes (translation: knock-knock jokes). Here is an audio clip from Friday night.

Usually, his knock-knock jokes make no sense, but this one was actually wicked funny. I'm not sure if it was because of the punchline, or because of his accent.

Love, The Trahans

Moon Over Mendon

Southwick's Zoo is 15 miles from our house. While not as big as the Philadelphia Zoo, it is a pretty decent size, with most major zoo animals (giraffes, lions, tigers, elephants, rhinos, monkeys, etc.) Plus, they have a sky ride (which Mikie loves). In the three years we have been hear, Mike and Mikie have gone to the zoo two or three times. And, in the same time span, I have gone to the zoo zero times.We decided the weather was somewhat decent, so we would go to the zoo this weekend. Hannah was intrigued by all of the animals, but she was smitten with the giraffes. Mikie was on a mission to find the spider monkeys, his favorite animal. As we passed all the primates, we encountered the following monkey friend:Yes, it is a picture of his behind. I'm not sure if he mooned us because he wanted us to leave him alone, or because he thought he was funny. If you watch the video, you can see how much he LOVED mooning us. And, in case you are wondering what that obnoxious siren noise is, that is coming from the same monkey. In addition to the mayhem in the monkey house, we saw a number of other animals. And, Mikie and I enjoyed a ride on Humphrey, the Camel. His keeper informed us that his hump was filled with fat cells, not WATER (I feel deceived!)Love, The Trahans

The "Near Miss"

When my sister was a toddler (possibly even younger), we went to a company picnic hosted by my mom's employer. They had a pool, but being 4 and 1, we weren't allowed to go swimming by ourselves. I don't even think my parents brought bathing suits (my dad is allergic to chlorine and my mom probably didn't want to get her hair wet). . .

My sister had other plans. She toddled right over to the edge of the pool and went in.

Obviously, my parent's IMMEDIATELY went in after her (I was probably sitting "angelically" off to the side watching, waiting for her to get yelled at). And, she was fine (arguably annoyed that she couldn't go back in). . .

I tell you this because I have always thought Mikie and my sister were kindred spirits. I just didn't realize to what extent. . .

On Friday, the camp took the kids on a field trip to the town beach. Mikie was ECSTATIC. First, he got to ride a school bus for the first time. Second, he drove past Nibbles's school (he claims he waved to her from the bus). Third, he had a hot dog for lunch. Lastly (and most importantly), he got to go SWIMMING.

Now, Mikie can't swim. We took him to Red Cross swim classes in Maryland (nearly three years ago), and he has zero fear of the water. He knows to kick his legs and move his arms, and he knows that he can float if he lays on his back with his head back, but he can't swim without support (either a grown-up or floatation device). However, I didn't expect there to be any issues. Obviously, it was a beach. Like the beach we go to when we visit Grandma Kerrie, I assumed he would play in the shallow water with his friends. There would be a lifeguard and adult supervision. What could go wrong?

In hindsight, I realize how naive I was. After all, this is MIKIE we're talking about. Mikie, who reminds me of my sister on a daily basis. We can't go anywhere without there being a story to tell afterwards.

Friday was no different. Around 2pm, I received a call from the owner of the daycare who runs the summer camp. He was calling to tell me about an "incident" that occurred with Mikie at the beach. . .

Typically, "incident" means Mikie bit/hit/harassed/wrestled/etc. some kid at school. OR it means he was injured and I need to come take him to the ER. So my mind immediately jumped to three possible scenarios:

1. Mikie drowned.
2. Mikie drowned another child.
3. Mikie jumped in the water, hit his head on something, and has a concussion.

Mikie was splashing in the water, playing with his friends. In his excitement, he didn't realize that he was bouncing further away, until the beach dropped off. A life guard and paramedics rushed in to rescue him.

Aside from being physically okay, Mikie is totally unscathed by the incident. When I asked him about his day, he didn't even tell me about his "near miss". And, according to the teacher, he went right back into the water, not wanting to leave to eat lunch, let alone leave when it started raining. He eventually admitted to Mike and I that he "accidentally" went into a "deep section" and it was "really cold" and "seaweed was touching my foot."

And, I learned a valuable parenting lesson: Always send your kid out with a life vest. Especially if your child's name is Mikie Trahan (or Katie McLaughlin).

Love, The Trahans