Harry Partier

 

As for the party proper?  Well, after the children arrived, they were sorted into houses.  (Fortunately, the sorting hat takes the young wizards' wishes into consideration, and some of our guests chose to be sorted a few times before they were content with where they'd landed.)   

We spent some time making wands from paper and glitter glue (despite the ingredients, they alchemically became more permanent and fabulous than you might expect).  The potions teacher (Professor Jennifer McGonagall) also taught a class in which the students who followed her instructions to the letter ended up with a beautiful draught of living death, while the Neville Longbottoms in the group (all the boys, sadly) ended up with a gummy mess.

 

The children enjoyed taking a crack at the witch's hat pinata, using the handle of Gwennie's Nimbus 2000.

 

But the best moment of all may have been the cauldron cakes, which we'd made from a recipe discovered in the Restricted Section of the web.  They were rather well received, as you can clearly see.

  

 

genteel

Dear, sweet Margaret.  I cannot believe that you are already ONE.  My precious little baby!  You are getting so big and clever and strong.  We all enjoy watching you grow and develop, and we love celebrating all your new tricks.

You are such a speedy crawler.  You have great balance, and have the funniest way of standing-via-yoga. As with every accomplishment, you then clap for yourself and expect everyone else to do the same.

 

You aren't walking on your own yet (not that I expected you to, since none of your siblings walked until at least 13 months), but you are starting to enjoy walking while someone holds your hand.

You shake and nod your head and have an extensive vocabulary of words and signs.  You say Mama (with varying degrees of inflection, depending on what you want), Da (Dada), Tat (cat), Ap (clap), Des (yes), Bat (bath), Bup (up), Bruh-buh (brother), Baa-Baa (bye-bye, always said while waving).

When you get hurt or upset, you ramble on and on, very articulately, in baby-gibberish, telling us all how you were slighted.   It's amazing the vocabulary that comes out -- complete with dynamic inflections -- when you really want to be heard.

And oh, how you are loved.  Strangers flirt with you every single day.  Your parents dote on you.  Your siblings dote on you.  How did we ever live without you?

(Despite our expectations of Greta demolishing her jello cake in the manner of Casper or Gwennie, she was quite restrained and proper in her treatment of her dessert.  In fact, that perfect van dyke in the fourth picture which makes her look like a Southern Colonel is the ideal accompaniment to her manners in polishing off the cake topping -- she was even kind enough to share with her siblings!)

goody bags

Filling out the goody bags: Gwennie's personalized Harry Potter shrinky dinks for each of her friends, glowsticks, Bertie Bott's every flavor beans, chocolate frogs, and licorice wands.  You couldn't do any better on the Hogwart's Express.

the art of tooth plucking

A trick he learned from his sister:  apparently Linus, knowing that he was about to lose a tooth, simply reached into his mouth and plucked it out.  Very casual.  The only difference is that when Gwendolyn pioneered the trick, she did it before an audience at the dinner table.  Linus has a subtler style, but it's equally effective.  And it's great fun to see his grin these days.

potions class, day two

 
In continuing our plans for Gwennie's party, we decided that a great contribution to the party participants' goody bags would be a couple of potion bottles.  We made a large batch of felix felicis vials, one for each child, then made an assortment of other potions filled with delectable comestibles (so, for example, the Ingenious Elixir bottle contained smarties, and the Unnerving Tonic was filled with sour gummi worms).

And of course we continued making designs for other concoctions for our party display!

auntie visit

Another cause for celebration: a visit from the children's Auntie Tiffany!

swinging monkeys

Casper explains why he was going after his brother with his fist raised: "I need to punch him real bad, because he was threatening!"

C requests a "peanutbutter'n'jelly sow-winch."

C, playing a game of one-man chess: "I'm cheating against myself!"
And later: "Wow, I'm pretty much losing."

freckles, part iii

Or, uh, Casper's?

freckles, part ii

Or Linus's?

freckles, part i

Or Gwendolyn's freckles?

eyelashes

As parents, we're prone to noting, and doting on, some of the minor features of our children.  We try not to rhapsodize about them in public.  But have you looked at Margaret's eyelashes?   

party card

With the party coming up, one major project was getting the birthday cards out to friends.  Gwennie suggested a marauder's map theme, so we sketched out a pen-drawn guide to the castle with a flowing banner for the motto, then printed them on wizards' parchment with a wax seal to close the handmade envelopes.  (Calligraphic names added a magical touch.)  

 

shake, rattle and fold

Perhaps because of her fear of falling onto a hard surface, Greta feels more comfortable standing on our bed, though it's soft enough that I would have thought her balance would be compromised.  She understands our requests that she "stand"; when we encourage her, she promptly works her way up, then looks expectantly for us to clap for her accomplishment.  Like the other children, she sometimes stands best and longest while distracted: if she's holding something, or even waving it madly about, she can keep herself upright a surprising length of time. 

potions class, day one

Because of Gwendolyn's decision to host a Harry Potter-themed birthday party later in the month, we decided to put some more energy into our potion bottle project.  We've started making a new batch -- not only of the originals for our own display, but also some additional brews based on conversations we've had with the children. 

It looks as if this will be an ongoing project, with new distillations unveiled periodically.  For now, we've stopped buying salad dressings and olive oils based on brand preference, and always choose the better bottle.

forcasting the future

This interaction occurred eight or nine months ago; I'd forgotten about it, and only just discovered some notes scrawled on a receipt on my nightstand. One Sunday afternoon, the boys followed Gwendolyn into our bedroom and made the following proclamation:

G: We want to tell you the names we want for our children.
Mama: You mean, when you grow up?
L: Casper's is . . . Stinkin' Pink.  Mine is -- there is three boys and one girl.  Uggh . . . I can only remember the last name! I mean, the middle name: Dadje, Jet, Erised.  Oh, and Rose.
G: I'll have three girls and three boys.  Rin, Ada, Leah.  Luke, Tom, David.

mucho mas macho

Linus has always been a solidly-built boy -- ever since he was born and his chest was larger in diameter than his head (making crowning, in his case, somewhat anti-climactic).  He is now around ten pounds heavier than his older sister, but he actually feels even denser and more compact, somehow.  He likes to exercise with me in the morning (until he gets bored with the repetition of it all).  He also likes to display his physique, and will walk around posing and flexing his muscles. 

Linus (late in the afternoon): I'm tired! My blood sugar's low! I'm hot! I've had it!

one entire decade

Dearest Gwendolyn, you are TEN! Can you even believe it?  I certainly can't believe that daddy and I have had this parenting gig for ten years.  I also can't believe how grown-up you are becoming!  You are teetering on that fence between childhood and adolescence: at times you are absorbed in your imaginative games and still want to play dress-up with your brothers while other times, you want to lock yourself in your room and curl up with a book or sketch pad.  It's fun to watch you mature.

You are such a good friend to others.  Loyal and warm and always incredibly social.  You are sensitive and eager to help others in their struggles.  You are full of faith and not afraid of hard work.  You are infinitely patient with Greta and anxious for her to grow up so she can play games with you (I haven't had the heart to tell you that by the time she is old enough to play games with you, you'll be too old to want to hang out with her).  You have a gift for entertaining and caring for younger children and are going to make a killing as a babysitter in a few years, even if you do complain when I ask you to watch Greta for me.

In an effort to help you get along better with your brothers, you decided that starting and ending your days with scripture reading would help and so you've diligently done that every single day.  I'm both proud and very, very impressed.  I love your eagerness to do the right thing, but at the same time be aware of the choices you are making.  I love that you want to develop a relationship with you Heavenly Parents and take it seriously through scripture study and personal prayers.

Though you complain about schoolwork (fourth grade is harder than third grade!), you love to learn and are proud of your success and your growing knowledge.  You are still a voracious reader (though the other day I gave you a book to read for school and you freaked OUT because you didn't want to read that particular book.  You told me in no uncertain terms that my forcing you to read books you didn't want to read was going to make you hate reading.  You finished the book a day later and gave it a positive review -- and me an apology.  Have I mentioned that you are headstrong?)

You are maturing, becoming aware of some of your shortcomings and childish behavior and trying to change it.  You are more compliant with things that have to be done, but you don't necessarily want to do (like piano practice and chores).  You are more willing to talk about how you are feeling instead of blowing up in anger.  It's nice.  Very nice.

You really are a bright spot in our home, sweet girl, and I'm so thankful that I get to be your Mama.

Greta stands

 Margaret has become very interested in standing on her own.  Our other children would only stand if they could first pull up on something stable like a piece of furniture, and would only stand on their own if they were tricked into it (for example, if they were holding onto a toy, giving them a false sense of security). 

Little Greta, on the other hand, just goes into her downward-dog yoga pose, pops herself up to a standing position, then claps for herself (and expects everyone else to join in a round of applause, which we are all happy to do).