My husband's cousin Stephanie sent us this link to a video.  It shows the local boy scouts marching to her house to give a send off to her husband John Uptmor, who is being deployed to Afganistan soon.

http://blog.cleveland.com/pdmultimedia/2008/01/scouts_say_goodbye_to_leader_j.html

It's Day 3 since Tracy was allowed to eat eggs by the allergy doctor.  For breakfast, she chose IHOP's funny face chocolate chip pancakes.  Later, when we stopped by a bank's sidewalk grand opening celebration, Tracy happily dug into a slice of "egg cake."  She looked at my BBQ platter and eyed the coleslaw.  "Can I eat that?" she asked.  "Yes, you can have mayonnaise now," I said.  So she got a scoopful of coleslaw on her plate for the first time.  She said it was yummy, but soon went back to the cake.  She had leftover chocolate "egg cake" after dinner later.

Other than eating her way through all the foods she's up to now only watched her sister and friends chow on, Tracy had an eventful day.  She ice skated a few feet without holding on to me (granted, she was holding her arms out saying "Mommy...come back").  She let a clown paint her face to look like a puppy.  She rolled water bottles down the driveway with her new friend Sara.  She watched her sister squish a dead slug with bare feet.

The most exciting part of the day-- from my perspective-- came when I was cooking dinner.  Tracy walked up to me and handed me a hank of her hair.  She would not admit she cut it off herself.  "It just cut off" indeed!  Time stood still as I turned her head this way and that.  Thankfully. No. Harm. Done.  No telltale jagged edge or ear showing where it should be covered up.  That child.

I told Tracy that her preschool class will have class pets -- hermit crabs. 

"Like eating crabs?" she wanted to know.

"Well, these are not for eating."

"Mommy, Daddy, can we use the 'F-word' more often around the house?" Kristen wanted to know.  I blanched.  She can absolutely not use it around the house!  Who taught my kindergartener the F-word?  I pictured each of the older kids she's played with. 

I asked, in as casual a voice as I could choke out, just what word did she mean by "F-word?"

She giggled as she leaned forward to whisper "You know, like someone tooted." 

Oh.  That.  Phew!  (Or should I say P.U.).

The preschool that Tracy started attending this fall has made too many little requests for parents to send in stuff.  Unlike Kristen's old preschool, I now have to supply a snack every day, buy tupperware, buy things off the classroom wish list, buy Scholastic books, send in $5 to help with processing film for pictures the teacher takes, sign up to be a Party Mom (I'll be planning the Valentine's Day Party and bringing in the craft), etc. etc. etc.  Yesterday, I found myself signed up to make red play dough for the month of December for the class.  Here's the recipe:

2 cups flour

1 cup salt

4 tsp. cream of tarter

2 cups water

2 Tbsp. vegetable oil

Food coloring.

Put all ingredients together.  Cook about 3-5 minutes on medium heat.  Stir.  Take out and knead for a short time.  Store in covered container.