Time Flies

And I am not doing much to keep a record of what is going on during that flying time.  So here's the scoop:

Bear
Bear is settled in school and doing fine.  Yesterday he came home all excited about a website called "Mathletics" that he had learned about.  He got on the computer, but quickly announced that the math way way too hard for him.  I came to take a look and it's just multiplication.  He hasn't learned much in the way of multiplication yet, so I tried to explain that it isn't really that hard, he just needs to memorize his times tables.  He knew the answer to the first one, 7 x 2, but the next one was 7 x 9.  My mind went blank.  "Ummmm, I think it's 56..." I said, so he typed 56 and hit enter.  WRONG!
"See!" Bear shouted, "This is way too hard!  I'm going to tell my teacher that even my mom can't do it!"
"No! Don't do that!" I protested, "I should have known that answer!  It's too embarrassing!"
"Well, okay, I'll just tell her that one of my parents didn't know the answer.  I won't tell which one."
Nice.  I guess I better get practicing my times tables as well.

Beaver
Beaver is definitely three.  He is stubborn, sweet, opinionated, funny, exasperating, and adorable.  He recently decided to call Mike and I "mommy" and "daddy" instead of "mama" and "dada."  We are getting used to it, but I prefer "mama" and try to still get him to use that instead.  I think he learned "mommy" from his brother, because Bear calls us "mommy" and "daddy" when he is whining.  Hence, the title evokes rather negative feelings in me.  I bought a new swimsuit last week, and the next day I put it on so that he and I could go to the pool.  Rather absentmindedly, I stopped to look in the mirror.  "Mommy, what you doing?" Beaver asked.  "You looking in the mirror to see if you look beautiful in your new swimming suit?"  I laughed.  "Yes, do I look beautiful?"  "No."  Beaver said decidedly.  Yesterday he came hobbling slowly into the kitchen and announced, "Mommy, I am an old man.  I need my walking stick." (the walking stick he was referring to turned out to be his umbrella.)  He likes to say that he has a big, fat tummy.  If something tastes good, he says, "It's yummy yummy in my big, fat tummy!" while sticking his tummy out as far as he can.  He is quite interested in how babies come to be.  He knows that babies grow in their mommy's tummy, but he thinks that they get there because the mommy eats them, and when they are born they "pop out of the mommy's mouth."  He is often concerned about having to get small again and go back in my tummy, because it will be dark in there and he can't see.  I try to reassure him that won't happen, but he doesn't seem convinced.  Perhaps this is because I often tell him that he is so cute that I am going to eat him up, all gone in my tummy.

Beaver has started attending the local preschool twice a week.  He likes it, I like it.  Speaking of flying time, the hours he is in preschool sure fly by faster than any hours at home seem to.

Mr. Mike
Mike continues to work like he lives in Japan.  We don't see much of him during the week, so we look forward to weekends.  This week he has Monday off for "Respect for the Elderly" holiday.  Hooray!

Mrs. Mike
I clean the house (sometimes), feed the family (always), walk Bear to the bus stop in the morning, play games with Beaver, go to the pool (even though the kids are kind of tired of it), study Japanese (when I'm not too tired to concentrate), read books to Beaver, take Beaver to preschool, pick him up from preschool, go to lunch with friends (had okonomiyaki for the first time - yum!), go grocery shopping, walk to the bus stop to pick Bear up after school, supervise homework, and all of those usual things that moms do.

A Few Pictures

Eating shabu-shabu

Asagiri Beach