Autumn, Not Fall

We are starting to see the weather change, and with the colder nights comes a little color in the trees. The school buses are back on the roads, and the pumpkin decorations are starting to show up. Summer must be over.

Liam asked about the seasonal change, so we learned the new word -autumn. He doesn't like the word fall. He says it sounds like it hurts.

He eagerly anticipates Kindergarten, watching the littlest students at the elementary school lining up outside every morning. In his mind, he's ready. All he needs is a lunchbox and someone to sign him up. We often discuss the requirements; being able to write his name, for example. "You need to be four-and-a-half years old to go there," I tell him. He simply throws out the age requirement, "I big boy now." I should probably add using verbs to the list, but for now, his caveman sentences are endearing.

Our plan is to enroll him at a nearby Montessori Preschool in January. At one point, my goal was to enroll him in Preschool so that he would start in September, when he turned two-and-a-half. In fact, he wasn't quite ready to make that transition, given the changes he's working through at daycare right now. At this school, the children make their own snacks every day. Liam equates this to being able to eat whatever he wants for snack. He plans to eat goldfish crackers and apple juice every day. He tells me this every day. I think he is in for a rude awakening.

Snack seems to be a constant attraction in his world. Sunday school started at church this week. He was not very excited about going until he learned that he gets to eat a snack at Sunday school. Once he sucked down a juice box and devoured several handfuls of crackers, he decided we could come back again. But as we were leaving, just to be sure, he asked, "Is there snack every time?" Smart kid.