out and about

In the past couple of weeks we've been taking in some local attractions and special events:

• We made it out to see the last B-29 bomber still flying at the local air and space museum, which made for good nostalgia considering it was the plane my Papa Jack trained to serve on as a flight engineer in World War II (though the War thankfully ended before he saw combat).  That event also allowed us the opportunity to sample some of the offerings from a food truck, which was fun from a foodie standpoint, if not necessarily one of expediency.  We waited for a *long* time for that food. 
• We had a great time at our parish school's annual Fair, complete with tasty (and quick) food served by the Knights of Columbus, pony rides (for the horse-loving lads, anyway), a petting zoo, lots of fun games, an obstacle course, and a live bluegrass band.  It was a humdinger of a festival.
• We've been on a few field trips.  The elder lass's preschool class went to a humongous fire station *and* the pumpkin patch (not all in the same place or on the same day), and the younger lad's kindergarten class went to the apple orchard. 

While we greatly treasure and preciously guard our stay home days more so all the time, getting out to these events has been refreshing, exhilarating, and delightful for everyone involved. 

the pause that refreshes

Backtracking a little, the Gospel reading this past Sunday is resonating with me several days later. Jesus and his disciples try to take some downtime, only to be met with people in need of their ministry and mercy.  The opportunity to fill in for an absent pianist was in itself just such a retreat from my everyday circumstances for a little while.  Afterward I felt refreshed and ready to dive back into the busy-ness and emotionally demanding work of caring for my four young children (if also a little sheepish about the mistakes that characterize some "rusty" piano playing -- the bambini couldn't care less about those).

How often does it happen to parents who try to take a moment's retreat before reengaging back into the challenging work of ministering to their children that something comes up preventing the parents from taking that time for the purpose of renewing what might be lagging spirits?  In my own experience, it's plenty of times.  I know I'm not the only one to face this.  In the Gospel, Jesus and his disciples are moved with pity for the people who meet them at what is supposed to be their resting place, and those in need are cared for and taught with compassion.  While I do my best, I can't say I'm always as gracious when this scene plays out in my own realm.  We can't give what we don't have. 

It's my nature to keep pushing through fatigue and similar symptoms, but the risk of burnout is great.  The effects of that aren't at all the kind of legacy I want to leave with my children.  While the extraction process for Mama to depart and go do something else for a while, such as play the piano at church or visit with friends or pursue some other hobby lately relegated to the back burner (or cooling rack, as it were, not even simmering anymore) can be fraught with emotion, it's getting easier for me to get out the door and do a few things such as these every once in a while.  The bambini have come to relish their days at "camp" with Grandmare or their time spent at home with Daddy-o while I am out for a little while.  This is a great relief to everyone, as it should be.  I hoped this would eventually be the case, and it often is. 

Sometimes I think I stay a little too close to home, but as the heart of ours, I am happy to be here.  Still, everyone needs a break now and then.  As I get a little more mothering under my belt, I find myself better able to articulate the legitimate need for a change of scenery, a little breathing room, and some time to regroup.  When a rejuvenated Mama returns, everyone is the better for it.

family reunion

You know that scene at the end of Christmas Vacation when Chevy Chase's character Clark Griswold surveys the scene around him after all of his relatives have witnessed firsthand the collision of reality with his dream of a "fun old-fashioned family Christmas" and says in amazement to himself, "I did it."?

I can relate.

Last week our young family mounted an expedition unlike anything we'd done before.  We took a road trip.  Not just a short jaunt to visit my parents and sister -- a trip upwards of 350 miles.  Sure: other families have done this sort of thing plenty of times.  I myself was a veteran road-tripper by the age of five, driving more than twice that distance one way with my father (who did the actual driving) to visit our Chicago family before my Papa Jack passed away.  Still, this was the first time the family my beloved and I are privileged to parent went on such an adventure.  We, along with my parents and sister, met our Chicago family for a reunion.  There were some among them we'd never met (children, that is), and vice versa, and although Grannie had come to stay with us a couple of times and each of my aunts had come for short visits, it had been a long time since nearly all of Grannie's descendants were together.  Even still, we missed my cousin the doctor who recently began her residency. 

The first moments of our reunion were similar to the scene in Cynthia Rylant's The Relatives Came, illustrated by Stephen Gammell.  There was lots of hugging and chattering and more hugging and laughing and more hugging.  In the story, the relatives have driven a long, long way from their family farm to visit their loved ones.  They pack the house and sleep practically piled upon one another (not unlike the many Fourth of July holidays happily spent at Grannie's lake cottage) and stay for weeks, helping the host family tend to their garden (while eating up all its produce) and other household upkeep.  Then, after lots more hugs, they pack up their station wagon and head home with visions of next summer when the ones who made the trip this year will be the hosts.  In spite of the physical distance that separates the two branches of the family tree, there is a bond evident that isn't diminished by time and space, one that every family surely aspires to retain.

For our family reunion we met not quite in the middle and stayed at a hotel, which was a grand adventure for our bambini.  Our Bambini Ride isn't rainbow-colored like the station wagon in the story, but it was packed pretty much to the gills like the fictional vehicle. 

The book's illustrator Stephen Gammell won a Caldecott Medal for the artwork that brings this story to life, as he did for (among others) Song and Dance Man by Karen Ackerman, another book we enjoyed about a grandfather regaling his grandchildren with stories of his days as a vaudeville performer.

Seeing the cousins I'd spent many summers with as a child now all grown up like me (or are we?), one with children of her own, the bond between us was renewed.  When we were much younger, we'd write letters to each other.  Yes: letters -- as in paper, pens, envelopes and stamps.  I'd write them to my cousins, I'd write them to my Grannie, and they'd write them back to me.  So when I stumbled upon David Ezra Stein's Love, Mouserella, I hastily requested it. 

Mouserella has just bidden her grandmother farewell after a visit, and already Mouserella misses her.  Sound familiar?  So Mouserella writes a letter to her dear grandmother, telling her about anything and everything that's going on and providing illustrations.  This sweet story conjures up memories of me writing to my Grannie upon my return home from her house, missing her already and eager to keep the conversation going. We still try to do that now by phone and e-mail, not so much with letters.  The occasional card is always considered "fun mail."

Though we are separated by nearly 800 miles, the connection we have to our Chicago family is important to us to keep alive.  Though traveling has been difficult for us in recent years, we saw an opportunity to give it a go with lots of help from my parents and sister along the way as well as lots of help from my beloved's parents before we left.  Our family is blessed beyond measure to have the love and support of so many relatives and friends.  For all of that, for the gift of time we've recently had to spend together, and for the safe trip we made, I will always be grateful.

I think Clark Griswold would be proud.

chatty cathy

Out and about on my own for a little while today while the bambini were having "camp" with my beloved's mother, I found myself having a conversation with the girl who checked me out at Target, who eyed the stack of camo-patterned cargo shorts and pink polka-dotted swim shorts in various sizes and wondered aloud how many children I have.  Upon learning the answer, she divulged that she has four older brothers.  I asked her if they treated her well, and she said yes they did and that she liked to bake cookies for them, which inspired me to tell her that my father (who has three sisters) has long made a point of telling our lads how important it is to take good care of their sisters.  She concurred.

On the way out of Target I stopped for my favorite beverage, a rare indulgence.  As we waited for the espresso to brew, the barista asked me where I was off to from there.  "To pick up my four children," I answered, along with a few pleasantries.  I don't think that was the answer the barista was expecting, though I could be wrong.

At another stop on my list of errands, I had a lengthy discussion with the clerk about the return process for items ordered online and how some people expect the store employees processing said online returns to be "miracle workers" when unwanted items are brought in without receipts or other necessary paperwork.

As I walked out of that store I laughed inwardly at how chatty I had been with these people I'd never met before, beyond the basic friendliness that is characteristic of our region.  I don't consider myself all that great a conversationalist.  I can make fairly decent small talk, but I'm a little rusty from lack of sleep, and my attention is often divided among several entities.  This makes a conversation of much substance more challenging.

Fortunately for me, sometimes it only takes a few words of kindness to leave a lasting impression on another person, stranger or not.  I cherish the opportunities for more lengthy discussions with loved ones, and I hope the few words I can muster in my default soundbyte mode will be ones that uplift, heal, and encourage.

zoo books

In order to psyche myself up for honor of an upcoming preschool field trip to the zoo, I give you a few of my favorite zoo-themed picture books of recent memory:

This Dictionary of Ordinary Extraordinary Animals by Lisa McGuinness and Leslie Jonath has *extraordinary* illusrations by Lisa Congdon.  That's the first thing I noticed.  As I thumbed through the beautiful pages, I then noticed the neat details in the entries for many animals commonly featured in children's books.  The elder lad was enthralled by this book, barely looking up from it as we drove home from school the day we checked it out of the library.


Jan Ormerod's When We Went to the Zoo has going for it an engaging story with interesting prose and meter -- not quite rhythmic, but still poetic.  This is not a new book -- just new to us, but it has become one of my favorite zoo books because of the writing.

Recent release A Zeal of Zebras: An Alphabet of Collective Nouns by Woop Studios speaks right to my word nerd heart, even though I am not really that big a fan of alphabet books.  This one is different because of the creativity in describing a multiplicity of a certain animal -- not necessarily one whose name begins with the sequential letter of the alphabet. Initially the elder lad dismissed this book as a bit beneath him -- he knows his alphabet already, after all, but once we got to the page with "A Quiver of Cobras", followed soon after by "A Shiver of Sharks", both he and the younger lad were paying attention.  I bet they were all along. 

These books along with A Sick Day for Amos McGee (which I reviewed here) and Michael Bond's Paddington Goes to the Zoo are the first ones that come to mind when I think of zoo-themed books ... for good reason.  They -- along with the wonder and excitement that bubble up from each of the bambini -- might just convince me that all the effort to pack up and trek all over the zoo might just be fun after all.

moments of greatness

Twice now in the past week there have been moments best described by that scene in the 1989 movie Major League (much of which I can quote) when the team manager Lou Brown comments to Charlie Donovan the team's general manager that things are "starting to come together". 

As we prepared for a little getaway to my parents' house last week on a day off school, the bambini (with some coaching) packed up their "pack packs" and play clothes the afternoon before so that the next morning we'd have fewer things on our "to do" list.  The morning of our departure when excitement was high, they each pitched in (pardon the pun -- that was fortuitous) according to their ability to fill water cups, vacuum the kitchen floor, help siblings get shoes on, etc.  We were on our way much earlier than on previous occasions, which meant we had more time to play. 

This afternoon we made a trip to Target after school for essentials like yogurt and bananas.  I had my reservations about making this trip, as in my mind a trip to the grocery store with four young children during happy hour might just qualify as the opening for one's cause for canonization (kidding! I'm exaggerating again.).   However, it had to be done.  So we did it.  On the way into the store, I gave a little pep talk about us working as a team just like we did before we went to Mimi and Papa's house last week so that we could get through the store quickly and be on our way home.  There were a few shenanigans but nothing serious, and no one got run over by the "brother cart".

It's moments like these that invite me to say with pride like Lou Brown that this is "my kind of team."  Of course, the very next moment there might well be an outburst from one or more children following some perceived or real injury such as the presumptuous swiping of a fresh library book for one's own perusal (the nerve!), and we are right back to normal -- whatever that is -- but they're still "my kind of team".

reflections

Out with the lassies to run a couple of quick errands this afternoon, I walked hand in hand with the two-year-old lass and wore her seven-month-old "sissy pie"  in the sling.  Funny Girl caught a glimpse of us in a series of glass storefront windows as we walked, and she was transfixed.  She smiled at her reflection sweetly, proudly, and with a certain silliness, lifting her chin up and grinning.  "I see us!"  she said. 

Where did this little girl come from?  Just yesterday she was the one in the sling.  Tomorrow she'll be shopping for graduation dresses like my sister is doing.

While there have been many times in these postpartum months when I have avoided my reflection in the mirror, today when I saw us, we were -- if I do say so myself -- pretty as a picture.

wishful thinking

Cruising the parking lot with a Ride full of bambini awaiting my beloved on a quick jaunt into the hardware store, we scoped out the outbuildings and dog kennels along one side of the asphalt spread.

"When [my brother and I] have our own house, we'll have one of those for our dog," the younger lad declared.

"Will it be a big dog or a little dog?" I asked him.

"A big dog -- but we'll still be your sons," he assured me.

***

When his fanciful request for Chocolate-Covered Sugar Bombs (that's the blanket term my mom used for any of the myriad nutritionally-bereft offerings in the cereal aisle) was denied, the same lad brightened and said, "when I'm grown, I'll get those."

playlist: schoolhouse rock

Just for fun, here's a playlist I've assembled from some of our favorite music, all having a little something to do with school:

• "98.8" by Justin Roberts a feeble attempt to stay home from school  
• "Snow Day" also by Justin Roberts fever-free, but still hopeful
• "We're Going to Be Friends" by Jack Johnson made it to school, happy to see everyone 
• "Alphabet of Nations" by They Might be Giants literacy + geography  
• "Knocktopus" by Recess Monkey for the class clown in all of us 
• "Tie Your Shoe" by Justin Roberts mastering this feat is cause for celebration 
• "Seven" by They Might be Giants the lass's most-requested song of the moment, and a fun commentary on those of our species who are this age 
• "The Sharing Song" by Jack Johnson a necessary skill
• "West Indian Counting Song" by Dan Zanes & Friends Sometimes I sing this one to facilitate a transition in activities.
• "Number Two" by They Might be Giants They're channeling Sir Elton John here, I think.
• "We Go Duck" by Justin Roberts as in Duck, Duck, Goose
• "Go Down Emmanuel Road" by Dan Zanes & Friends fans of Sesame Street have probably seen this a time or two or three 
• "Q U" by They Might be Giants groovy goodness 
• "Picture Day" by Justin Roberts I almost always wanted retakes.
• "Meet the Elements" by They Might be Giants never too early to start learning scientific principles ...
• "Cells" by They Might be Giants Whoever heard of introducing the concept of DNA to the preschool population? 
• "Science Fair" by Recess Monkey I always cringed at the thought of cooking up an experiment.  This is so not my scene. 
• "The Bloodmobile" by They Might be Giants Physiology terminology set to music = retention.  This tune is along the lines of those commercials for St. Joseph's aspirin from a few years ago.  As an aside, did you know my mother and I had the same high school chemistry/human anatomy teacher?  The charms of small town life... 
• "Constellation Conga" by Recess Monkey my new favorite.  Astronomy: why not?
• "How Many Planets?" by They Might be Giants My bambini can all name "JOOOOO-pi-ter" on a rendering of the solar system thanks to this ditty.
• "Fire Drill" by Justin Roberts a welcome interruption
• Why Does the Sun Shine? by They Might be Giants jammin', if maybe not quite right, come to find out ...
• "Why Does the Sun Really Shine?" by They Might be Giants swanky.  less jammin' than its predecessor, but apparently more accurate.  Go figure.
• "Ice Pack" by Recess Monkey After all that science, it's time for recess.  Sometimes accidents happen. 
• "Billy the Bully" by Justin Roberts Might does not equal right.
• Sack Lunch by Recess Monkey The elder lad and his kindergartner buddies have recess *before* lunch, so that they'll actually eat instead of running out to play after a bite or two; This tune goes hand in hand with next on this list.
• "Big Field Trip" by Justin Roberts I've queued this one for many a field trip of our own.
• "E Eats Everything" by They Might be Giants Both the lads dig this one.  In the video version, Z becomes a Pac-Man-esque creature.  Need I elaborate? 
• "Not Naptime" by Justin Roberts This is genius in musical form, clearly written by someone who's been there and done that; Justin Roberts is a former preschool teacher.
• "Do-Re-Mi" by Harry Connick, Jr. music ed 
• "Gym Class Parachute" by Justin Roberts gym class.  not my scene.
• Pollito Chicken by Dan Zanes & Friends Spanish lessons 
• "Little White Square" by Popple This is a theoretical Catholic school playlist; fostering vocations begins at an early age.
• "Daniel in the Den" by Dan Zanes & Friends religion continued... This is from the Old Testament.
• "Giant-Sized Butterflies" by Justin Roberts start-of-school jitters; brings me to tears thinking back to the elder lad starting preschool  ...
• "Strike the Bell" by Dan Zanes Is it time to go home yet? 
• "She's A Yellow Reflector" by Justin Roberts Sister has after-school crossing guard duty -- no time for chit-chat.
• "Yellow Bus" by Justin Roberts  Where is that bus?  The poor kid is up and at 'em.  But what day is it again?  Saturday?

I call it "Schoolhouse Rock."

not this year

Christmastime is here, and with it much merriment with family (and coffee filters).  Getting to the celebration was a challenge, as in the final days of Advent we were all fighting The Sniffles whilst trying to "get things done." 

Decking the halls for Christmas is one of my favorite things to do, but not with the full array.  Not this year. 

Many of the (breakable) Christmas decorations I wanted to put up at the end of Advent are still in the box  (which means less to put away later!).  Our Christmas tree went up on the Third Sunday of Advent, and I marveled to myself how it has evolved since the first year I had a Christmas tree of my own -- one waist-high number in my first apartment, trimmed in a monochromatic white and silver scheme, my massive Persian cat shedding on the velvet tree skirt underneath.  That tree has been replaced by one trimmed with ornaments that tell the story of our family life thus far (but only about three-fourths of the way up its nine-foot stature, with breakables at my eye level or higher for obvious reasons).  I like this one better.

There have several family gatherings over the course of this past week.  It's always wonderful to see everyone -- so much so that we have a difficult time extracting ourselves from the festivities in time to make it home for a reasonable bedtime.  After so much fun commotion, it's difficult for little ones to wind down, which makes us question why we even went out after contending with the late night and the resulting fussiness in the morning. Even while trying to stick to our routine, the inevitable deviation catches up with us eventually.  Someday, we'll be better able to partake of the later evening festivities, but not this year.

Awash in the many expressions of delight from our four bambini at the wonders of the Christmas celebration, we draw them close and are reminded once again of this brief but intense season of our family life.  Together with our extended family, our celebration of Christ's birth continues.   We might not be out and about as much as other folks, but that's alright.  Grateful for the gift of this time together, God willing, we will never forget this Christmas.  Not this year.

opposite day

In the eerie quiet of a house with three simultaneously-sleeping children while the elder lad is at school, I have an opportunity of unknown length to ruminate on the events that transpired yesterday, which included a trip to Target, a fun outing with a family we are getting to know from the elder lad's school, and a gathering of moms from the Kindergarten class (hence the napping children today, for which I am most grateful).

The trouble is, amidst the many highs and lows of the day, what stands out is what's missing:

Coffee filters. We have none.

At this point in the narrative, my dear friend Simply's jaw likely drops in horror as she's reading.  Today her eldest lad turns 16, and while I hate the thought of marring this day with such a disturbing notion as a house without coffee filters, I know she'll laugh knowing I typed "draw jops" first and thought it looked normal the first eight or 10 times I read through what I'd written.  Sorry to put a damper on your Mama Day, Simply. Love you and your lad!

In spite of reminding myself not to forget the filters as I unloaded the bambini into the cold shopping cart and trucked inside as fast as I could *and* having taken a picture of the exact ones we needed to fit our drip coffee maker, I neglected to write the item on my shopping list, and here is where it all goes downhill.

By the time the 22-month-old lass had fallen asleep sitting up in the seat of the shopping cart (first child of mine to ever do such a thing outside of my sling or the "baby bucket" car seat) and I had had some near misses with the shopping cart and the heels of my three year old lad who insisted on walking "with" me *and* I had nabbed some slacks that I thought I could wear to the moms' gathering that evening (wrong), the coffee filters had fallen out of that primacy of place that is the single driving thought propelling me through Target (well, that and "must get this finished *as soon as possible*").

This doesn't mean, however, that we got nothing. Quite the contrary. We got a gift for the birthday party the elder lad is invited to tomorrow that the younger lad would love to go to as well but for which the whole siblings-invited issue is rather murky; a Lego truck Christmas gift that will be a surprise to only one lad (as the other discovered it after he escaped from the cart); the afore-mentioned ill-fitting slacks; sundry dairy items (including a ridiculous amount of yogurt); some molasses for another batch of our most recent cookie success -- chocolate ginger with chocolate chips (among other things) -- for our new friends; and the list goes on...

except for coffee filters
(and contact lens solution, which *was* on the list but overlooked somehow)

So while I may feel like bellowing this deeply-rued fact, I am instead going to employ a tactic I ought to use more often with my bambini: I'm going to whisper.

We have no coffee filters.

This explains a lot.

civics lesson

Are votes marked by a five year old giddy at the idea of using "a marker that stains" at his mother's direction still valid?   Let's hope so.

I fulfilled my civic duty this election day with four little helpers in tow (which attracted the usual marveling) -- the littlest one in a sling, the middle two in our double stroller (though one made his escape), and the eldest pushing the rig. 

The prospect of seeing the sea foam green vintage charter bus with the name "Patsy" displayed in its destination marquee parked on the lawn adjacent to the church that served as our polling place with a "for sale" sign in its window piqued the collective curiosity in the Bambini Ride (she wasn't there, though).  After an explanation of the term "polling place" and why it was a church (but not ours) and a probably inadequate reasoning for this whole voting business, we unloaded and went in...

They did pretty well with the short wait, as they have when I've taken them with me to vote before -- even though it was after school and snacks were in short supply and we'd been in the car for a while already.  I'd read the ballot online before we set out on this endeavor, which sped up the actual ballot-marking process.

Choices made, I asked if either of the lads wanted to put the ballot in the reader machine.  They both just looked at me and then at the machine, curious about the beeps and clicks it was making and not wanting to be responsible for them.  That was alright.  The polling place attendants were generous with the "I voted" stickers anyway.  Each child (except the slingling) got one.

I was halfway expecting an election to be organized to determine the dinner menu this evening, but alas it did not come to pass.  (The gravitational force field of the planter box full of dirt out back won out).  I wouldn't be surprised to see one soon, though.  Someone I know has an insatiable interest in permanent markers, the cutting up of paper into smaller pieces, and the stashing of said paper tidbits into discarded Amazon.com boxes that could very easily be transformed into ballot boxes (minus the beeps and clicks)...

buddies at the book fair

The book fair has come to the elder lad's school.  Lord, give me strength.  I am weak in book fair situations.  I always have been, from the time I was a school girl myself.

This afternoon we unloaded after school (a rarity, for obvious reasons) and went to check out the book fair.  Once we made it inside the door (which took some doing considering the close quarters and the wide swath we cut with one lass in the stroller, the other in my sling, and two lads on foot), negotiations began on what book(s) we might take home with us.  We settled on John, Paul, George, and Ben (which we've read before and still quote to each other randomly), among a few others including an engrossing read on trucks of all sorts, two Skippyjon Jones books, and one on dinosaurs.  It's for a good cause, right? 

Fun as the book fair was on its own, more memorable to me were the introductions we had with a few of the elder lad's classmates and teachers.  Each time he'd say, "want to meet my brother and my sisters?"   They all very graciously agreed.

He's the biggest of the small ones (that's a reference to some colorful characters in Skippyjon Jones), and he's so proud. 
As we are of him.

pandemonium

Sometimes I really surprise myself by the absurdity of my ideas -- or rather, that I would cook up **and act upon** such ridiculous things.

Why I thought taking the bambini to a fast food chain with an indoor play area was a good idea is beyond me, as we hardly ever eat fast food *or* go to indoor play areas where I fret about whatever germs might be lurking on the equipment and spend the entire time keeping track of three little people in the maze of plastic and mesh with the fourth one in the sling. 

Chalk it up to my sleep deficit.  Sometimes my cognitive abilities are consequently impaired. 

Alas, with the brave help of my parents and sister, we loaded up all four bambini (the elder lad had a day off from school, and my family came to visit for the day) and took a field trip to this eatery with a reputation among moms as *the* place to go.  To be sure, there were lots of families with young children, many of whom were probably there after delivering a spiel about eating "a good lunch" before going to play.  I gave that spiel myself.  I might need a new spiel writer.

Very little of the "good lunch" (as it were) was consumed.  The play area was held hostage by two unsupervised children too old to be in there anyway egging each other on to "scream louder!".   And were there naps taken after all that excitement?

Of course not.

Does any of this come as a surprise to anyone?
Probably not.

I suppose it's one of those lessons this mama had to learn by living it herself.  Standing by me while I learned it (and enduring the screaming) was truly a work of mercy by my parents and sister.

Now we've been there, done that, and don't need to again.  Whether we eat at home or out some place, we'll find another place to play -- preferably outside. 

inquiring minds want to know

To all those who've stopped dead in their tracks at the store or library this week at the sight of us and have risked asking me if these bambini are all mine, commented that I have some good helpers, or observed that my hands are full only to get a quick glance and one word answer -- if that,

It's not that I don't want to be conversational, you see.  It's that I'm trying to get through this excursion without anyone falling out of the cart, having to go down the toy truck aisle again, or getting run over by the five year old insistent upon driving the cart or stroller containing his brother and sister all by himself.  Thanks for your understanding.