As I was dropping B off at school today, one of his teachers was helping to wrangle some of the 5 year olds for a field trip (something to do with school next year, so only the oldest kids were involved).  I said hello, got B’s coat off and waited while he changed his shoes, walked him to class, gave him a hug and kiss and headed to catch the bus to go home.

While I was waiting for my bus, the teachers and kids from B’s school came along.  They walked along the sidewalk, about 14 kids and 3 teachers.  This is a common sight in Austria — kids out on field trips or walks to the parks, bundled into coats, hats and mittens, lined up two-by-two, holding hands and flanked by teachers.  It is very sweet.

In order to catch the bus going the other way, they all had to cross the street, and I watched with interest, because, on a different day, it might have been my child crossing the road without me.

The first teacher stopped the line, carefully looked both ways for cars, and stepped out into the crosswalk.  She walked halfway across, and stopped, facing the lane of traffic (no cars were coming).  Another teacher waited with the kids while the third joined the first, but on the opposite side of the crosswalk and facing the other direction of traffic.  They held their arms out, creating a bridge for the kids across the road while the third teacher herded them across.

When they reached the other side, the kids gathered and waited while the teachers caught up, collected hands, got the kids back in line and set off again.  They moved quickly and efficiently without much discussion or any indecision.  It’s obvious that they’ve all done this before.

The way they handled it — carefully and seriously but without extra stress — was incredibly comforting, and the way the teachers stood in the road, watching everything and blocking the cars, was so caring and protective that it brought tears to my eyes.

They were so focused that they didn’t see me until they’d crossed to the other side of the street and made it to the bus stop opposite from where I was standing.  It was a pleasant surprise to see something so comforting and confidence inspiring as I spied on them a little.  I am really happy by the level of care and attention that I saw, and the next time B is out with his class, I might worry a little less.  (But still, only a little.)

Every year, about the time that I start Christmas shopping for the kids, I become overwhelmed with the knowledge of how many toys we already have in our house.  Really, it’s kind of ridiculous.  We have so much stuff.  And, as I start to contemplate the new things that the boys will find under the tree on Christmas morning, I start to look around and see what we could do without.

I always go around and gather up some toys that have been outgrown, or that haven’t been played with in a long while.  Some things get packed up in the closet, and some things go in a donation and give away pile.  Then, many of the things that got put away in the closet LAST year and haven’t been missed since also get put in the donation pile — if they haven’t missed it in a year, they’ll survive without it.

It’s always been a little tough because Benjamin gets really attached to his toys.  In years past, I’ve tried to include him in the donation process, and it has always ended in tears and hysterics, because there just isn’t anything he can bear to part with.  (I was the same way as a kid — I got very attached to toys and other stuff and had a hard time parting with anything, which is part of why Benjamin and Liam currently play with several things that are well over 30 years old.)

Today was a “toy donation day” and I started the process of going through the things squirreled away from last year while B was still at school (to reduce the trauma).  Liam watched me with curiosity as I dug toys out of the closet.  There were a few things he wanted to play with, but mostly he just watched.  He asked, “What doing, Mama?” and I explained that we had more toys than we need and that I was packing them up so that we could give them away to someone who didn’t have enough.  “Ok”, he said, and that was that.  With only one exception, there was no objection and no tears as I packed things away in bags and stuck them in the corner of the bedroom, explaining that we weren’t going to play with them any more.

In fact, it went so well, and so without strife that I decided to try, again, to involve both boys in the process this time.  When B got home from school, I told him that we had a project.  I explained that I wanted them each to select one toy — one from the toys that are out and that they play with, not from the ones stuck in the recesses of the closet — to give away to children that might not have any other toys or presents to open on Christmas morning.

And then, instead of tears, I got a surprise.  B nodded, bent down, and picked up the first thing that he saw (a remote controlled train).  Liam offered his bike.  B then proceeded to pick out a remote controlled car (that he just got this summer and plays with a lot — in fact, it is so prized that I had to get it down off of a shelf where he had us put it so that Liam couldn’t play with it) and another train.  “These are for the kids that don’t have toys, Mom.  I don’t need these anymore, and I think they might like them.”

Well, that’s pretty awesome.  No tears, no unhappiness.  I confirmed B’s choices with him a few times (we opted to keep one of the trains, and Liam’s bike, because I”m not sure Liam understood the permanence we were talking about — I think he thought it was more like sharing) and we piled up quite a few items to donate through Dan’s work.  I am so proud of, and impressed with, my boys.  There was a lot of kindness and generosity in their choices, and best of all, they seemed really happy to be helping.

I think my kids are pretty awesome.  I think they’re beautiful and brilliant and super sweet (most of the time).  I am routinely impressed and amazed by cool new things that they learn or wonderful things they do.  I think it’s pretty normal that I’m so thrilled by them — I’m their mom, and therefore, their biggest cheerleader.

Today is no exception — today B read a word.

He’s been able to recognize his name for a long time, and he can read most letters (and all the numbers) almost all of the time (sometimes “D” comes out as “T” and “Q” ends up being all manner of things).  But, other than his name, and Liam’s name, he’s never looked at a word and been able to figure out what it was, other than simply deciphering the individual letters.

Today, when Jo & I were talking, I was spelling something (my usual form of subterfuge) and B said, “I want a T-O-1!”  (Not a typo, he actually said, “I want a tee-oh-one!”)  I asked if he meant T-O-Y (which is a word we spell around them a lot, and it’s a lot shorter than C-H-O-C-O-L-A-T-E or I-C-E-C-R-E-A-M so he learned to recognize it a while ago) and he said that it was.  And, then, I realized that if he can spell the word, and he can read the letters, does that mean he can recognize the word?

So, I ran over to the chalkboard and wrote down TOY and asked him what it said, and he read, “T-O-Y . . .toy!”

And, there we go.  The first word of many.  (How cool is that?!?  Next up: the entire Harry Potter series.)

Between generally being busy, some rainy weather, various members of the family taking turns being a little sick and some naps that have lasted long enough that it’s gotten dark outside before the kids have gotten up (an odd and sometimes frustrating part of living so far north) we haven’t been getting out a lot in the afternoons.  In fact, since we got back from Tirol and Bavaria in mid-October, we haven’t made a single weekday park or playground trip.  Today was warm-ish and dry, and the kids were up from their naps before dark, so I jumped on the opportunity, got the boys dressed and we walked to the park.

I’ve never actually done that before — I’ve never taken both boys, on my own, to the playground without the stroller.  Liam has been going through a phase of not wanting to hold hands, and not wanting to be held, and the roads along the way are far too busy for him to walk on his own.  But today, I explained to both boys that they’d have to hold my hand the whole way, and they were great.  We had a lovely time, walking along the sidewalks, enjoying the end of the afternoon and holding hands.  When we got to the playground, the boys played together, staying close to each other and to me so we could all be together, and so I could keep an eye on both of them.  We weren’t able to stay long — we arrived just after 4:30 and it was already nearly dark, but enjoyed a few minutes of playing outside before it was time to head back.

On the way home, we walked the long way, past a brilliantly lit Christmas tree that just went up today.  We had a really nice time, a lovely evening together.  My guys are getting so big — big enough to go out without the stroller, big enough to understand when I explain to them the way things need to happen, and big enough to (at least occasionally) follow through and do what they need to so that we can have a great time together.

It was lovely to just be together.  I wrote the other day about how much I like being out and walking around the city.  Today, I got to do that, while holding hands with my two favorite people.  I am so lucky.

Yesterday evening was Lantern Fest at Benjamin’s school.  It was our second chance to watch Benjamin participate in Lantern Fest, and, again, we really enjoyed it.  As I understand it, these Lantern Fests happen all over Austria (actually, throughout much of central Europe) and although the tradition is loosely based on the story of St. Martin (who tore his cloak in half to share it with a poor man who had no cloak of his own), really primarily involves listening to small children sing songs and watching them parade around with lanterns that they make at school.  It’s sweet and darling, and we love it.

Last year, B struggled.  He’d only been in school for 2 months, and he pretty much hated it.  He’d had trouble learning the songs and following along with the instructions . . . because, of course, everything was in German.  He held hands with one of the teachers for a fair bit of the parading, and fell apart about halfway through and came to stand with me for the remainder of it.  Even so, he remembers it fondly (as do we) and I think it ended up being mostly a positive experience for him — even though it was tough, he was part of something fun at school, and that was really the first time that had happened.

It’s amazing how much a year can change things.  B did great.  From before we arrived, he was so excited.  When we got there, he greeted his friends with a hug, and went running off down the hall once he figured out where to go.  He happily joined his class to line up and get ready, and although he was still looking for us, once he saw us, and we waved to each other, he went back to playing and joking with his friends.  He did so well.  He walked along with the parade, he found his spot (waved to us again) and then sang all the songs.  He wasn’t nervous or worried (although he got a little tired at the end) and he was so excited about how well the whole thing went.

We were thrilled, too.  I was so happy to see him enjoy himself and to see that he seems to feel so comfortable there.  It was great to see how confident and self-assured he was.  I loved seeing him playing with and talking to his friends.  But best of all, at the end, he didn’t want to go home.  He still complains that he doesn’t want to go to school sometimes, but he truly does seem to have found happiness there.