We knew going in that today was Promotion Sunday at church. What we DIDN'T know was that Freddie was being promoted in-to Jones's class, which means he was being promoted OUT of the nursery (
I thought he had another year of the pre-K Sunday School class). This is really exciting for a mama who's more "onward and upward" than "please stay a baby."
It DOES, however, mean the end of our regular interactions with Mr. John & Mrs. Betty. This husband and wife team has spent Sunday mornings with 25 years'-worth of Arden Pres babies. This is the only sad part of the whole arrangement. John and Betty will be very deeply missed.
I was concerned about how the boys would behave, being in the same class and, probably, seated in pretty close proximity to each other. I threatened them within an inch of their lives before saying goodbye and told each of the teachers to be sure they behaved. When we got back to pick them up, we got a glowing report. Hopefully, the sweet teachers weren't just covering for our tiny guys.
During the service each week, Jones always asks if he can pass the offering plate. He takes this responsibility VERY seriously. I honestly have to watch myself, lest I inadvertently pass it without letting him hand it to (
or from, depending where we're sitting) his daddy. Well, on this Sunday, he handed the plate from one person to the next. He then turned to me and flexed his muscles, like he were Rick Friggin' Flair. It's worth noting here that he is CONVINCED the Flintstones Vitamins he's been taking for about the last six week are turning him into a superhero. Whenever he does some new skill or show of strength, he will look amazed and say, "Mama! It's the Flintstones! They're working!"
Also of note from church on Sunday is a conversation that Jones had with Reagan Moore ... well, it wasn't so much a conversation as Reagan talking to Jones, who either stuck his tongue out or growled at her in response. I can't quite remember.
The Moores sat behind us in church. After the service, Reagan gave Jones some pictures she'd drawn for him on her bulletin. She told him, "I love you" and, a beat later, "Sometimes, I wish you were my husband."
I can't remember if Jones growled at her or stuck out his tongue, but whichever it was, he did it with a glint in his eye, and on the way to lunch, he sweetly and sincerely said, "We should write Reagan a Thank You note!" so no matter how he responded at church, "I think he doth protest too much."
I DID, however, have to explain to him what a "husband" is. "I'm not gonna HAVE a wife," he told me in response. Sounds like Reagan's got her work cut out for her.
I am a firm believer that birthdays should be celebrated extravagantly - though not, necessarily, expensively. I just like lots of celebrations and decorations and as much buttercream as is humanly possible. That made Jones's sixth birthday my kind of occasion. From the time he woke up in the morning until he hit the hay way past his bedtime last nite, some kind of celebrating was going on, and I am so grateful for the way things played out. First up, he opened his gifts from us first thing in the morning, as is our custom. He'd asked for a Herbie car with a wagon behind it (ever since seeing "The Love Bug" on a Movie Nite at church, he's been a little bit obsessed with Herbie) and a $12 digger / dump truck combo from the Dollar General. He got both things he was asking for and a few little extras, to boot - among them dinosaur day-of-the-week underwear and a Captain America racecar that he can paint himself.
From there, he headed to school, but he was only there long enough to go to chapel, because at 8:45, his class and the first graders boarded an HCA bus bound for the US Cellular Center in Asheville. Their first field trip of the year just happened to take place on Bobby Jones's birthday. "Pete the Cat" was the play they saw (Jones even wore a Pete the Cat mask!), and afterwards, they had a picnic lunch at Carrier Park in Asheville. When we were leaving the theatre, Jones told me, "I can still do all the fun things I did when I was five!" He seemed excited - and, quite honestly, surprised - by this fact.
Naturally, I was THRILLED to be along as a chaperone on the big day. I took cupcakes for the kids, all of whom were SO sweet to Jones. They kept coming up and telling him happy birthday. Their great behavior and excellent manners spoke VERY highly of both their parents and their school. I was SUPER impressed. I was even more impressed (or, should I say, RELIEVED) that Jones chose to ride the bus instead of in his mama's minivan. When it was time for me to leave after lunch, a quick kiss and a wave were all I got, proof that six must be a very mature kind of age! After school, we picked up his construction site cake (it had a digger on it; that's why Jones picked it. It's also why I had them write, "We dig you, Jones. Happy 6th birthday" on it) at Ingles and then headed to pick up Jones's Clyde First Baptist buddy Luke, who joined us and our family at Chuck E. Cheese's for dinner and fun. 
Chuck E. Cheese's seemed louder than usual to me. That didn't stop everyone from having a great time - especially Jones, whose favorite ride was probably the Mack. He did it a million times in a row, saying he had to make some "dewiveries." He got lots of great gifts - definitely more than he needed - and then we headed home, by way of dropping Luke off. While Jeremy got the boys ready for bed, I put Jones's new "Cap 'Merica cubbers" (Sissy gave them to him) on his bed. He settled in, all "comfy cozy" and ready to rest up for what we pray will be a spectacular seventh year!
