It’s how he complicates them that has changed. In the winter and spring of 2007, I was packing up an infant and clearing out of the house for several hours because the noise would upset him, keep him from sleeping, and potentially hurt his ears. The issue this time around?

Simon would like to join the band, or at least practice with them. Mr. Butch (Gabrielle’s dad) graciously let Simon bang on his drums for a bit and even offered to leave behind drum sticks so Simon could play between practices. From about 6:30 last night, when we headed upstairs to let the guys talk and play, until 8:00, when Simon went to bed, I fielded the question “When can I play Mr. Butch’s drums again?” about a hundred times. Maybe more.

At about 7:30, having realized that he would not be replacing Mr. Butch on drums during practice, Simon developed another idea: He grabbed his ukelele and started to head downstairs. I couldn’t figure out a good way to incorporate a ukelele into REM’s oeuvre, so poor Simon had to play upstairs on the couch.

Butch offered that Gabrielle has her own drum set, guitar, and ukelele, so I’m wondering if for the next practice I shouldn’t arrange a concurrent KIP All-Kid Band practice. Not that they could play or anything, but I’m guessing much fun—and less frustration—would be had.

Do you recognize Simon’s costume? He’s Flash, a B-grade (C-grade?) super hero from the Justice League. Simon kept asking for him, and I kept saying “Who?” and assuming I’d be making one. Then Amazon and Google came to the rescue, telling me who Flash is/was and making it easy to find a costume. The back-story on Flash is uncommonly silly even by super-hero mythological standards. Some dullard was struck by lightning and then—Flash!—became possessed of lightning quick reflexes and super speed.

The attraction to Simon is pretty simple. This is a kid who likes to run and have us time him. “Was that 110?” he’ll ask me. Or better yet, “That time I was going one ten, one eighty, seventy-five, six hundred, a thousand million!”  If any math majors out there want to figure out what this number could possibly be, have at it.

As it happens, Simon’s affinity for Flash is as quirky as I thought, but maybe not so unexpected. When discussing Simon’s choice with my brother Steve, the fast runner, fast talker, fast everything in our family, he didn’t laugh. Nope, his response was, “Oh yeah, Flash. I always liked him.” So there it is, Simon exhibiting a rare (for him) Goldstein strain of his DNA.

We also enjoyed the gift of a low-stress launch. We knew the first year would be rough at first, and it was. We didn’t know the second year would be, but it was. Last year we feared the worst, and Simon settled in happily from the very start. This year, with another whole year of maturity and confidence under his belt, we knew Simon would head upstairs excited about his new class.

How confident were we? We were so confident that we slacked off on some basic parenting responsibilities, like getting him to bed at a decent hour. You see, last night a bunch of former UK players who are now in the pros played the Dominican national team at the new YUM! center downtown, and Simon went. The Kentucky must run deep in our DNA, as we prioritized his watching Rondo, Harrelson, Wall, and the rest over being well rested. Simon got to bed last night at around 10:15, two hours past his regular bedtime.

But it’s all cool. He might have been sleepy, but he’s still getting off to a good start. For starters, there’s the school director Shary. Simon has known her for a long time now; she’s like family. Here’s how they greeted each other:

And for seconders, Ms. Andrea remembered Simon’s hand sign (a “W” for Whitworth) from when we stopped by to see his room last week while the teachers were setting up, and she flashed it as a greeting. That was enough right there to take her from “new teacher” to “good friend.”

I have a strong feeling that, even Baron-less, this will be Simon’s best year yet.

As it happens, though, the most dreaded split of all—the one from best-buddy Baron—is coming earlier than anticipated. Baron’s mom is expecting a baby in November, and she’s opted to move Baron and Asher to a new school. AJ has a new infant program that will allow all three of her kids to be in the same school from January, when the new baby will be six weeks old, until May, when school ends for the year.

AJ is Agotich’s school, and Asher will be in her class, but that’s not going to be much of a balm for Simon’s heart. I’ve had little to worry about this past year, as Simon has done well academically and socially. He’s happily trotted off to school each day, had a great time, and learned tons. Next year was supposed to be more of the same, but now I’m not so sure.

The boys at KIP are just so thin on the ground.* Second-best friend Aciek will be back repeating the threes next year, as he’s a year younger than Simon and was only in the threes last year because of space constraints.** Kamal, who I began to hear a fair bit about towards the end of the year, has moved with his family to Paris. That leaves Simon, Griffen, Brian, Logan, Keon, and Braylon as the six boys to be split among two classes next year. Simon wasn’t in Griffen’s class last year, and he’s never been in a class with Brian, Logan, or Keon.

Friend-wise, we’re right back at the beginning. The girls are no help to me, either. One on one, Simon plays well with lots of them. He loves Ruby and Caroline and Gabrielle and Jillian and Anieya and Lily and others. But once it’s time for group free play, KIP looks a lot like Saudi Arabia or a middle-school dance: all the girls on one side of the room and all the boys on the other.

The last time Simon was separated from Baron, in the Twos, he pined for him and didn’t really bond with the other (totally sweet) boy in his class. This social disorientation is exactly what I don’t want to see and fear will repeat. We’re three weeks away from what may well be Simon’s last year at KIP, and I was looking forward to his best year yet.

I’ve already had a chat with Shary about this to vent my spleen. I would have felt slightly bad about being so needy two years ago when I envisioned her keeping a file on me, but by now I’ve served as school treasurer, helped with fundraisers, subbed in the computer lab, built the school website, and otherwise earned a little face-time. She did her best to encourage me, saying that Simon will make friends and do just fine in either class next year.

“You’re worried about Simon?” she exclaimed. “Simon is the last kid at this school I’m worried about. He’s confident, popular, and smart. He’ll have a great year.”

I hope she’s right. Also, how lovely to hear this when just two short years ago everyone seemed to be worried about Simon.

*It’s not just at KIP. AJ also sports a dearth of boys in Simon’s age range. Unless all the boys are at day-care or different schools, I can’t figure it out.

** KIP does not make it a practice to put kids in the wrong class! When Aciek’s parents and adoptive grandparents looked into preschool for him, the Twos class was already over capacity. Since Aciek was only one year out of Kenya (his dad is a Lost Boy), was not yet fluent in English, and had had no Western-style socialization, Shary decided he could jump into the Threes, where there was space. There he learned how to make friends and follow instructions, and became fluent in English. Now he’s ready to repeat the year and follow the curriculum as designed.

Thus, I smiled when Diana told me last week that the boys—Simon, Baron, Braylon, and Aciek—got in trouble for throwing rocks at each other and at the fence on the playground. Throwing rocks sounds like a fine activity for four-year-old boys. I understand that the teachers can’t let them do it on the playground, but I was happy to hear that rock throwing took place.

Better still, today I was pleased to witness first-hand Simon not only being disobedient, but also sneaky about it. Summer camp days start with free play in the school auditorium. This is a biggish space with a smallish number of kids in it. The normal routine is that the big girls play house or do arts, the little kids take things from each other and cry (I’m sure they do other stuff, too, but I mostly see toddler grabbing drama), and the big boys run and chase each other. The problem is that running is not allowed.

And I guess I can kind of see why. It would be easy for a kid to fall, trip, or even trample an Itsy Bitsie. Except… no, in my heart of hearts I think it’s a stupid, unrealistic rule. How can you put a group of boys in a big room for “free play” and not expect them to run? Doesn’t that amount to entrapment? The auditorium begs to be run in; running will be had in that room.

So this morning, when I dropped Simon off I witnessed the usual tableaux. Ms. Inessa and Ms. Lana were taking care of distraught toddlers; the other teachers were talking to each other about schedules and logistics; Greta and Ruby were playing dress-up/make-believe games; and Simon, Baron, Aciek, and Lily began their chasing game. At which point in time Ms. Andi, the camp director, turned around and barked:

“Simon and Baron! What have I told you about running? No running!”

It was reasonable enough. Except for the part where I think the rule is unenforceable and silly in the first place.* What came next made my whole morning. Simon and Baron froze in their tracks. Aciek and Lily scampered off elsewhere. Then, just when Ms. Andi turned her back to talk to Ms. Melinda, Baron took off in a sprint. Simon, who is by nature more obedient than Baron, flitted like a dancer across the room, pausing at intervals to look over his shoulder and check that the teachers still had their backs to him.

So he was willing to disobey, but not so excited about being caught. This was probably one of those teachable moments when I should have intervened and reinforced the teachers’ rules. Instead, I flashed him a sly smile to match his  own and left the room. I didn’t linger long enough to find out if he was caught breaking the rules, but I sure hope not.

*For the record, I have not shared this opinion with Simon. I think the rule is silly, but I’m not going to undermine his teachers’ authority about it. I’ll save that bit of bad behavior for a time when the stakes are higher.

Ms. Tammy at KIP has a thing for sweet boys and has been Simon’s rock at school this year, which ends this Friday. Tammy was the one who just over a year ago told me how much she loved Simon and what a good person he was, leading me to request her as his teacher. She and Ms. Shana have not disappointed!

A month or so ago, Tammy and I found ourselves joking about the fact that she and Simon share a favorite lunch spot, Panera. I upped the ante and suggested Simon “take her out” one night, and was surprised when Tammy enthusiastically replied that she’d love a dinner and park or zoo trip with him. How could I possibly refuse an offer like that?

So yesterday at four, I combed Simon’s hair, washed his face and hands, and reminded him to use his good manners. I considered sending him with some cash in his Lightening McQueen wallet, but didn’t think he’d remember when the time came or understand what “picking up the check” meant. He did, however, remember his directions. When Tammy and her daughter left Panera and suggested an ice cream spot, Simon asked for Ce Fiore.

“Se what? I don’t know that place, Simon” Tammy replied.

“It’s on Eastern Parkway,” Simon offered, “I can get you there.”

And he probably could have! Tammy tells me the whole car roared at this moment, and that her daughter won’t let her live down that one of her students has a better sense of direction than she does. I’ll probably post a summary of this year in the Ms. Shana and Ms. Tammy’s Threes, but if I don’t, I think this little story sums the year up quite nicely. How lucky are we all to have had such a wonderful year that one of Simon’s teachers wanted to spend more time with him in the very last week. I’m optimistic that summer camp and the Fours will go well, but this year—and Ms. Tammy–are going to be tough acts to follow.

“Where’s Jupiter’s storm?” he asked before I had a chance to let the first coat of red/pink/orange/purple Jupiter stripes dry.

Then, as I affixed a styrofoam ring to a slightly out-of-scale Saturn (I made it too small to keep the hat manageable), he looked over at Uranus and asked “How is Uranus going to have a ring?” I can’t get anything past this kid, but at least he didn’t tell me I had to leave Pluto out or add Eris in…

Anyway, after three trips to Hobby Lobby for Styrofoam balls (which are shockingly expensive!), floral wire, and paint; several painting sessions, including one that had me skip Tuesday’s group run; and a nerve wracking time carving out the guts of our “sun” with a melon baller (really)  to use as the basis of the hat, we couldn’t get the sucker to stay on Simon’s head.

So we stitched it to a hat.

And that hat tipped off his head.

So we added a chin strap to the hat.

And the hat fell over to one side.

So finally, in an act of desperation that Matt felt violated the class dictate to create “a hat”, I attached our foam solar system to my old bike helmet. Worked like a charm, and I think the hat looks great, if not particularly Derby related:

Please note the polar ice caps and continental land masses on Earth.

So where’s the picture of Simon wearing the hat? Well, when I got out my camera in the classroom, I realized that the memory card was still stuck in my computer. And my backup memory card was mysteriously missing. Argh! That leaves me relying on the kindness of iPhones of fellow KIP parents. I hope to get some decent pics in a day or so.

I’m sure it will be OK in the end. Just last week we left the camera at home for two birthday parties. At the first, a friend got this great pic of Simon and Ruby in a sack race:

At the second, I doubt Baron and Simon stopped running long enough to take a picture. Sometimes friends with iPhones are all you need.

Last night was KIP’s huge annual auction and fundraiser. I was in charge of check-out (a bigger operation than  I’d expected due to the difficulty of getting a credit-card machine for the night) and, with Matt, co-in charge of the music. KIP has been terrific for Simon; I was happy to be able to help.

Today, Simon fell ill. I am sorry he’s sick, but happy to take care of him. He is, as he tells me every night, my Valentine, my little bunny, my special boy, my sunshine, and my little bits.

Later tonight, cousins Arnold and Jane arrive from California to attend the funeral of an extended family member. I’m glad they feel comfortable in my house and am always happy to have them and simplify their travel.

Tuesday, little Agotich will arrive at my house at 7:00 a.m., per her usual schedule. Last week Simon asked about her every day, and Agotich called me Mama. I am happy to be able to help her family and facilitate her preschool experience.

Tuesday night is my first group run with the No Boundaries Couch to 5 K program. I’m happy to have the support and structure to get in shape.

Wednesday, my mom is having some surgery. I’ll be spending the better part of Thursday, Friday, and Saturday with her. I moved back home in part to fulfill family responsibilities. I’m more than happy to be there for her.

Friday is a teacher training day at KIP, so Simon won’t be at school in the morning that day. I’m glad that KIP takes training seriously; I’m  happy to have Simon home one day to allow for it. Also Friday, and maybe Sunday too, Matt and I will be watching a friend’s child whose care just fell through. The girl, Ruby, is one of Simon’s best friends, and I’m always happy to get those two together. Consider the photo opps!

Sometimes this week, I’ve also got a due-date for a freelance editing project. I’m happy to brush off my slightly rusty Hebrew and work with my old boss and friend at EKS again.

But you know what I’m really, really not happy about? THAT IT’S ALL HAPPENING AT THE SAME TIME.

Seriously. I’ve only ticked off the first item in that list and I’m already feeling overwhelmed!

And you know what else I’m not happy about? That I’ve spent 6+ hours today getting my cluttered, dirty, neglected house in order for guests and that my mom won’t be here to see it! By the time she’s back on her feet, we’ll be back to square one again.

We blame Baron. We had Simon’s costume all figured out for this year (he was going to be a hobbit), then Baron had to go and spoil it by introducing Simon to super heroes. We thought it cute and fun when Simon starting putting out his hand and making “Spcchhhh” sounds as he “threw fire” on us and invisible-but-deadly monsters. And it was cute and fun, right up to the minute he informed us that he wanted to be Iron Man for Halloween.

Iron Man? Really? Has the rush to copy-cat, cheap, nylon costumes already begun?

“No Simon, you’ll be a hobbit. Like Pippen, remember?”

“No! I’m going to be Iron Man!”

“But remember, you liked the idea of being Pippen. You can wear the cape and the….”

“Spchhhhh! Iron Man!”

Then I got devious. I went to Target, bought the (cheap, cookie-cutter) Iron Man costume, walked in the door, said nothing, and held it up in front of Simon. I assumed that since we have never showed him one Iron Man movie, book, action figure or the like, that he would have no idea what this costume was and the case could be closed.

Then he looked up at me, flashed a huge smile, and screamed,

“Iron Man! Thank you Mommy for getting me an Iron Man costume.”

And then he insisted we try it on right away.

Well, I sure showed him, didn’t I?  Reluctantly, the hobbit costume in progress got put up. Maybe in a couple of years when the movie is out, we’ll try again. Much as  hate to see him join an anonymous crowd of super heroes and princesses, it is his holiday, so he should be able to choose.

As for Baron, just look at these two. They held hands during the entire school parade, smiled at each other, and stuck together all morning. And they missed each other terribly the week Simon was home sick. I really can’t begrudge him anything. If I’m so sold on the hobbit idea, I’ll just have to dress up as one myself.

Sunday was Simon’s big kids’ birthday party at Sunny Acres Farm. We invited his first friends Sophie and Leah and his entire class to come out this barely commercialized farm to enjoy pumpkin painting, a hayride, a corn maze, a bouncy house, and a pull string pinata. This last item was Simon’s idea; he really wanted to have Halloween candy for all his friends.

Our turnout was marvelous. I happily watched 12 kids run around, get messy, crowd around a woolly caterpillar, scoop up candy, climb hay-bales, and pile on top of each other in the bouncy house (even Simon!). It was a sunny and unseasonably warm autumn day, and all the kids were pink-cheeked by the party’s end at 3:00.

Simon especially so. In fact, whereas at 2:55 he was jumping and screaming with joy in the bouncy house, at 3:00 on the nose all the light went out of his face, and by  3:10 he got into his car seat  and let the last few party guests climb in the car to say goodbye to him. I originally assumed that he was plain ole exhausted from the heat and two days of parties. But once we got home, I could tell that he was hot.

One hundred and two degrees hot, to be precise. Then the coughing began, which took on a bark-like quality by the next morning. Simon has croup. How he managed to develop symptoms the exact minute his party ended, I do not know. But I’m grateful, because it meant he got to have his party. I’m also relieved and grateful that (1) no other kids in his class have been ill this week*; and (2) that he’s starting to feel better today, so we can enjoy what should be the prettiest weekend of the fall.

* I’ve called KIP to check every day.  Can you imagine? Thank you for coming to Simon’s party! For your party favor, we have a pumpkin, a bag of candy, and disease to take home!