Seven years

The passing of the academic year marks a milestone bigger in some ways than a birthday in the life of a child. I remember the feeling of completing a grade and embarking on a new one, with the glorious but awkward limbo-land of summer vacation wedged between the two. Was I still in 7th, or now in 8th?

In our house, we've marked our family's completion of the preschool years. We're entirely elementary bound.

Stella and Zoey celebrated officially with a spring fling at their school, including classic songs and games.

Cakewalk!

Zoey and her teacher, Ms. Oliver

S and Z are going to kill me someday for posting these videos, but I couldn't resist.

Here's Zoey and her class singing 'My home is Montana': 

And here are links to Stella's multiple show tune ditties:

 

And a beautiful song in sign language:

After the official celebrations came to an end, we segued into the Vance-family end-of-school tradition: a trip to the market to purchase whatever sugary cereal floats your boat. In a house full of granola and oatmeal, this is big stuff.

Zoey selected Fruit Loops and payed the price we all have for those vividly seductive O's - a cut-up roof of the mouth so sore that it's still stinging.

Stella went for the classic, Lucky Charms, and, as only she would, ate all of the cereal first, diligently culling the marshmallows for some future date.

Here in Montana, the end of school coincided with the conclusion of the final bouts of wintery weather, which had come in spurts throughout the spring. We've spent many hours lying out in the grass, (grass!) relishing stretches of 75+ degree weather previously unknown to Stella and Zoey. (This is best explained by the classic Mark Twain line: 'the coldest winter I ever spent was summer in San Francisco.')

Realizing there's more concrete than grass in this picture, so you'll have to take my word on the grass thing

Doll picnics. I relish each one.

Mud puddle compliments of a garden hose gone wild

A few weekends ago as we lounged and soaked in the warm day, Stella jumped up from her cloud-observing repose, startling herself and me as she proclaimed, "mama! In seven years, I'll be 15! I just have to do this whole thing one more time and I'm there."

Get after it, Stella!