Nice Christmas Gift

All I asked for this year for Christmas was family pictures. We hadn't had any done in about 6 years. Too long! Here is a sampling.

Mikayla got me a big set of frames, too, that's supposed to help me put pictures up in some semblance of order. We hope.  So, as soon as these are processed, they will go up on the very blank wall above my living room couch.

Now We Are Six

When I turned six years old, my father read to me out of a book of poems by A.A. Milne. All I remember from the poem is, "But now I am six, I'm as clever as clever, so I think I'll be six now forever and ever." Being six was a big deal. It seemed like the best age. I had waited and waited to be six.
When I was six, I wanted a big wheel. I borrowed the neighbor boy's big wheel whenever he let me. There was nothing more fun than riding a big wheel down the hill and into my driveway. It was low to the ground, and I was still sort of afraid of my bike.
When I was six, I still loved my Fisher Price Little People schoolhouse set.
When I was six, I wanted to go everywhere my big brothers went, and bugged them to ride me around on the handlebars of their bikes.
When I was six, I loved my teacher even though I thought she was a really old lady and told her so once. But then, it felt like I had said something wrong even though it was just the truth because everyone laughed ,and she didn't look that happy.
When I was six, I wanted to please my teacher. I wanted her to smile at me and love me back.
When I was six, it didn't seem strange to play with the little girl who seemed different because my Mom told me that she didn't have the same kind of family as me. Being six meant that you were big enough to understand differences, accept them, and then play nicely with her.
When I was six, I still loved to watch Sesame Street every afternoon.
When I was six, I was old enough to understand what a bully was.
When I was six, I hated to see other kids get picked on by bigger kids, and I hated being the little kid that was being picked on. I remember wishing for the courage to smack the bully, or kick them in the shins.
When I was six, my teacher wouldn't let other kids pick on me or my classmates, and we were safe in her classroom. She scolded them and made them sit on the circle rug all by themselves.
When I was six, I understood what evil was.
When I was six, I understood that there were bad things in the world, and I understood that bad things sometimes happen even when you've been good. I knew this because I had seen my best friend have an accident that put him in the hospital with a broken neck. He was only little like me.
When I was six, even though I had this awareness, I felt blissfully safe because I had big brothers AND a Dad AND a Mom who was a teacher, AND I was beginning to be aware of my Heavenly Father.
When I was six, I was beginning to be aware that not every little girl got to have all of that, and I wondered why God let me be born into MY family instead of the other ones where the Dad smelled like beer all the time.
When I was six, I knew that sometimes I did naughty things.
When I was six, I understood consequences. I understood that God wanted Heaven to be perfect, so He couldn't let bad stuff in.
When I was six, I asked Jesus to forgive me of all my naughty things so I could live in Heaven with Him when I died.
These are things that I remember from when I was six. Then I grew up and became a teacher. I taught older kids at first, but it really wasn't my thing. I very much enjoyed teaching kindergarten, so when a K classroom position opened up at the school where I was teaching, I applied immediately. The children were mostly five years old in the beginning of the school year. They were all waiting and waiting to be six. They would say, 'Well, when I turn six...." and fill in the blank with all the special things that they would FINALLY be old enough to do.  Day after day, we would celebrate another birthday. The birthday boy or girl got to wear a special crown all that day. I would watch them mature, learn, and grow. I loved it.

My six year olds would hug me on their way by before they raced off to the playground.
My six year olds would shyly ask me to tie their shoes because it stayed tied better when I did it.
My six year olds still wanted someone to hold their hands when they walked across the parking lot to the buses.
My six year olds wanted me to look at every single one of their colored papers and smile at them and say they had done a good job.
My six years olds loved it when I sang a song to them while they were in line in the hallway.
My six year olds were still a little scared of fire drills.
My six year olds brought me their teeth that had fallen out to oh and ah over before they put them under their pillows.
My six year olds tattled on each other because they really didn't like bullies.
My six year olds were sometimes naughty, but when I scolded them, they were still sweet enough to be sad over it. They were still little enough to sniff an "I'm sorry" and want a hug.
My six year olds were old enough to understand that there were bad people around.
My six year olds understood that some children are different, but that doesn't mean that we treat them mean.
The sweetness of this age passes never to return in quite the same way. To this day, six year olds are my very favorites. They are easily taught, they are sponges ready to soak up anything you want to teach them, and some things that you don't. They are old enough to know some things and do some things on their own. They are little and innocent enough to say the truth without bothering with what others think.

I had to go to a day of training so that I would recognize child abuse, and in order to understand the policies of the school where non-custodial parents were concerned. We were trained to protect the children. It could have just as easily been me, shoving little children into bathrooms, closets, or cupboards, telling them I loved them or singing to them to keep them calm. A school shooting is never good, but this one is so much worse for me. Who would shoot six year olds?! I am very burdened for the families of the children of Sandy Hook Elementary, and for the surviving teachers. I know that if I had been one of the teachers trying to protect those children, that I would wish that I hadn't survived this horrible tragedy. Being a teacher is hard enough without having to go on teaching after such horror.
These little ones were six, they were as clever as clever, so God let them stay six forever and ever.