Wednesdays with Peter

Peter's class has only one day of school this week, to allow for parent/teacher conferences (which, if I may brag, involved the feedback "delightful," and "very bright," and "plays so well with the other kids," and "tells amazing stories.") Yesterday we did a lot of dashing around (post office! oh, damn, I forgot the papers I was going to mail. conference! drive an hour. slip into library [sans Peter] to copy the elusive missing page from the article I copied last week! meeting! pick Peter up! drive an hour. pick Grace up! make dinner! rush to dance! come home! eat dinner! rush to scrapbooking [yes, really: more on this later]!) Today has been calmer, by comparison, but we've had some classic Peter moments.

Classic moment the first: it turns out Peter is more computer-savvy than I am. We read about www.starfall.com somewhere and then I let the kids try it out, and while I expected Grace to navigate around easily, which she could, I did not anticipate that *Peter* has mad mousing skills. People, he's still three. I've been using a computer for - oh, about twenty years, and he's actually much more comfortable and enthusiastic than I am. At least when I am replaced by the younger generation, it will be about merit, right? He can design all sorts of cute snowmen and flowers and you have to come an appreciate his hard creative work, and this goes on for as long as you'll let him sit there. This is why we can never get a Wii.

Classic moment the second: I took him shopping for shoes (for me, of course. Those of you who have seen or can imagine my closet, please shut up about the not needing new shoes, mkay?) He is, frankly, excellent at it. He's excited by the numbers in the shoes, he's convinced that you must read each number aloud (thus an innocent pair of size-7 sandals becomes "Seven Seven!" said really loudly), and he loves, *loves,* high heels. I was looking for a sensible pair of black sandals that might transition from church to home to the grocery store, and he was choosing 3-inch strappy champagne-colored heels with bows and rhinestones. "Dey are size Nine Nine! Dey will fit you! And dey are TAP SHOES! Dey are so beautiful." If I failed to appreciate his genius, he sometimes had to emphasize his point by trying them on himself. He'd slip off his snowboots and attempt (with some success) to prance around in a cute pair of red patent peep-toe wedges, and I would make appreciative noises about his footwear. If he decides to be a drag queen in a modest 2000 seat Vegas venue - we'll know who to blame, right?

Classic moment the third: curled up with him on the couch, reading about dinosaurs. It doesn't get much better than that.