As it turns out, the refund check was in the packet along with the DVD and the nice letter from summer camp. This is what I get for letting Sasha open the mail.
So yeah, Sasha's summer camp is closing down. Forever! Apparently they sent a letter with the Summer 2007 Memories DVD we just got in the mail, but silly me, I didn't look at the letter. So I was caught by surprise when Sasha came home from ballet yesterday and told me that her camp friend, who is in her ballet class, told her Camp Is Closing Down Forever!
And now I'm angry because:
1. No word on if we're getting our deposit back for Summer 2008;
2. We've already missed all of the early registration discounts for everyone else;
3. Given the sudden swarm of kids looking for another camp, we might not get a spot;
4. Sasha has a hard time with transition and change, and going to ANOTHER new camp, followed up by a brand-new school, with probably two whole new groups of kids... well... let's just say we're in for a bad, bad couple of months.
It's always one more thing, isn't it?
Have a video conference about sharks in computer class, in which I got to do a Snack Attack and feed the sharks.
Maya is 15 months old now, soon to be 16. She is a delight in all ways, and overwhelmingly happy until the second she is upset. No middle ground, and mostly it's the happy. We're really very lucky, I know.
These are some of the words she says, albeit poorly in some cases:
Yeah * that * sit * snack * done * baby * Sasha * mama * daddy * bye * more * mine * cheese * ball
She also says the names of a couple of her friends from daycare. 'Baby' refers to her baby doll. She got one for Chanukkah, and she treasures it. Sasha, however, covets this doll, because it has a goofy little lock of hair sticking out of its head, and none of Sasha's many, many dolls has such a thing. So begins our first serious problem with sibling amity. Sasha tries to make deals with Maya: "We'll trade, see? I'll have your baby, and then you can have mine." or "How about we both play with both of the babies together?" But Maya will have none of it. If she sees Sasha laying so much as one finger on HER baby, her whole body goes rigid and she screams bloody murder.
Maya takes unreasonable joy in sitting upon things that are small enough for her to sit on. The degree of happiness this gives her is way out of proportion to the magnitude of the action.
She likes to put things inside of other things. Like putting Cheerios inside an empty cup, or putting fruit leathers inside my boots. She often goes into the drawer where we keep her empty bottles and strews the contents, haphazardly assembled, around the house, like bread crumbs to show us where she has been.
Maya takes unreasonable joy in brushing her teeth. It is the first thing she wants to do in the morning, and she will tremble with anticipation as you apply the toothpaste for her. It is only recently we have been able to gently remove the toothbrush from her hand after several minutes without inciting a total meltdown.
She still thinks peekaboo is high humor.
She has six teeth: the two in front, top and bottom each; and two molars, way back on the top. We would be more concerned if her cousin's teeth had not also erupted in a non-standard pattern. Her front teeth on top, though, are decidedly pigeon-toed. It gives her a certain resemblance to David Letterman, and has me thinking an orthodontic experience is in her future.
She loves to pull the comforter on our bed over her head and play in the pan-dimensional cave this creates.
She still loves to snuggle, and I squeeze her and smell her hair and kiss her feet and worry about the day that will come, not too much longer, when she's going to be too busy to sit still that long.