[Crossposted at my new address: spynotes.wordpress.com]

I�m having one of those days where I�m feeling a little down and everything seems to be conspiring to make me feel worse by being so utterly perfect and beautiful that I feel like I haven�t got the right to be having a bad day for no reason.

AJ is having an utterly glorious day. He rode his bike! By himself! I don�t think I conveyed the excitement we all felt about it in my earlier post. This is big news � AJ conquering his fears. Mr. Spy reported that AJ said the following:

Riding a bike with training wheels? Not fun. Riding a bike with someone holding on? A little bit fun. Riding a bike by yourself? Really, REALLY fun.

And I confess that part of why I�m feeling bad is that I wasn�t there to hear him say this. But I�m also so glad that he and his dad had that moment together just to two of them. It�s not jealousy, exactly. I�ve been there for every other first. It�s just that I know there will be more things that I will miss because he does more and more things without me. And it�s making me a little melancholy today. But I was there for the celebration, which involved a huge doughnut with lots of icing and sprinkles.

This afternoon AJ�s school is having Field Day, which, as I understand it, involves a whole lot of kids running races for a couple of hours in the sun. The weather could not be more perfect for this event. We had a frost last night, but this morning it is sunny and not quite 70 degrees. AJ informed me a half an hour before we needed to leave for school that he was supposed to wear a yellow shirt. This was the first I�d heard of it. The only yellow shirt he owns is long sleeved. I offered to roll up the sleeves. He offered to sulk. In the end he wore a green shirt that is too small for him, because I was tired of the argument. We got to school and no one else was wearing yellow either. This is what happens when you have kindergartners give messages to their parents by word of mouth. Write it down, people! We�d all be happier.

I�ll be heading up to watch the fun and then we will go to the home of one of the other kindergartners in the neighborhood. Her mother is an organizer and an entertainer. She sent out an email earlier this week inviting the mom�s for drinks and the kids to play. This is a playdate after my own heart (and I haven�t even read this). I tend not to play so well with my neighbors, especially in groups, but if there�s beer involved, maybe I�ll do better. I�m having to fight the inclination to barricade myself like a teenager behind dark glasses and headphones. This will probably be good for me. Nonetheless, I�ve made Mr. Spy promise to take me out for a drink later in case I need them. Blame my future alcoholism on suburbia.

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