Another sleep study?!?!?

No, I'm not kidding.  Apparently the pediatric specialists in my neck of the woods have great access to pediatric sleep centers.....because last night was our second sleep study in seven days.  With two different children.

If you're response is "Whaaaaa?" you are probably not alone.  It boggles my mind, as well.  Many people go through life without ever spending the night in a sleep laboratory.  I, however, and apparently 3/4 of my children, are not those people.

Li'l Angel had a sleep study back when we were working on getting a diagnosis for her metabolic disease. It was a horrible, horrible night, let me tell you.  I'm not going to go into details, but I will say that during the course of the sleep study, I had to prevent the tech from calling a code.  (She wasn't coding.  She was vomiting.  But Li'l Angel had a unique way of vomiting that scared many a veteran nurse, so I really can't blame the tech.)  The sleep study was helpful, but also sad.  Li'l Angel never went into REM sleep.  I don't have enough time right now to explain why.

Justone had his sleep study a week ago.  I blogged about it already.  (Go back and read "Testing...1-2-3...")  It wasn't at all horrible, and his dad got to go along for it.  I still don't have results back on that one.  I was hoping to get a tonsillectomy scheduled before Thanksgiving if he's having apnea.  Doesn't look like that'll happen, now that the ENT's office says they won't have the results for 6-8 weeks.  That is hard to believe, isn't it?  I'm just a little bugged about it because since we reached our out-of-pocket maximum months ago, all procedures are on the house until 2010!!!  (Not really on the house.  Just paid for 100% by our insurance company.)  Now is the time for a tonsillectomy.  I just wish the sleep lab, the ENT, and Justone's tonsils knew that.

Superkid's night at the sleep lab was last night.  She was very excited about it, thanks to Justone's prior, painless experience.  I spent the night with her.  I saw the room where Li'l Angel had her study, but it wasn't ours.  Superkid's metabolic specialist and neurologist were the doctors who felt strongly about having her sleep studied.  I thought they were up in the night.....until I spent half the summer sleeping in a tent next to Superkid.  She is a mighty restless sleeper.  I could tell you some stories.  (And you know how I love stories.)  I don't have time, but let me tantalize you with this one:  Bionic Man woke up (thankfully) to the sound of the tent zipper unzipping as Superkid tried to get out in the middle of the night.   YIKES!

No, really, I didn't think our doctors were up in the night.  Superkid gets migraines, and as anyone who has ever suffered from a migraine can tell you, no little kid deserves those.  So I'm totally up for doing any test they recommend if it means an end to Superkid's migraines.  Or even finding a way to prevent them.

Superkid cooperated very nicely for her sleep study.  She provided the perfect sample by waking up at 5 A.M. this morning with a migraine.  I kid you not.  It was a doozy, too.  In fact, it got us sent home early from the sleep study.  Superkid vomited as soon as we got to the parking garage, and again as we pulled into our driveway.  And again an hour later as we waited in the pediatrician's office for H1N1 vaccines.  Normally, I would not drag her out during a migraine.  But I made an exception for swine flu.  We've had so much trouble getting the injectable vaccine here, I had to make sure she got it the day it arrived.

Anyway, it is past my bedtime, here.  I've got to go.  But I will say that Superkid recovered from her migraine in time for me to have a much needed trip to the hair salon and for our whole family to enjoy the ZOO BOO.  More on that later.

P.S.  Guess what?  Six years ago, at this exact time (10:10 P.M.)  I was trying to convince my pregnant self that I really wasn't in labor.  The Bionic Man arrived home from his night class (he was finishing his MBA) and provided me with a reality check.  (Dang, he always knows I'm in labor before I do.  Told you he has superpowers.)  So.....tomorrow is Superkid's sixth birthday!!!!!!!!!!!!!  We are all excited to celebrate.

New Names

Sarah over at Clover Lane did a post on baby names today.  I loved it.  I, like Sarah, love naming babies.  Not only do I enjoy naming my babies, I enjoy naming everyone else's, too.  In secret.  I regret to inform you that--if I actually know you and you have given birth at least once in the past ten years or since we've known each other--I probably named your baby for you in secret.  Once you announced the name YOU chose for your baby, I was probably mildly and unjustifiably offended that you didn't pick MY name for your baby.  I know, I know, how crazy is that?

Anywho, Sarah has unwittingly inspired me to rename all members of my family, right here, right now.  For the purposes of blogging.  Using initials to refer to my children in this blog seems more than slightly like a science fair project.  (Child E, anyone?)  Not only that, I keep accidentally typing out their entire names and then I have to go back and edit them out.  (So much for internet safety.)  I'm picking new names that give an indication to something about their personality or special spot in our family.

New names are as follows:

Husband B: Bionic Man
Child E: Endeavor
Child J: Justone (As in "Yes, we just have one boy."  And this child does have a deep sense of fairness.)
Child S: Superkid
Child L: Li'l Angel

Hunter the Dog will remain Hunter the Dog.  It is a noble name for a canine, isn't it?  And it is the only name I've ever been able to settle upon immediately, without argument from Bionic Man.  Oh, the funny stories I could tell you about naming our children.   But I'll spare you.

Memories

Last night we had Family Home Evening.  For those of you unfamiliar with the term, it is a night--usually Monday--that our church leaders encourage us to set aside once a week to spend time together as a family, getting closer to one another and learning more about the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  That is the goal, and sometimes we accomplish it.  Sometimes we attempt to accomplish it, but the squabbling and couch jumping get in the way.  But B and I are convinced that we'll be blessed for trying, so we do.

Sometimes our Family Home Evenings (which I'll refer to hereafter as "FHE") are better planned and prepared than others.  Some of our best lessons have been given by the children.  Seriously, you should have been there a few weeks ago for the lesson E taught about family history and journal keeping.  She's good--so good that she's already preparing her powerpoint presentation for next week's lesson.  But I digress.  Last night's lesson wasn't so well planned, maybe because I was attending parent teacher conferences for three children while B was doing the ballet carpool and feeding everyone dinner.  Way to go B!

I came home from parent teacher conferences to find everyone clustered around the computer.  And to hear the sweet sound of L cooing.  B had pulled up a bunch of video files that he hasn't burned onto disk yet, and he and the kids were watching them.  I joined them, and we spent the next two hours just watching ourselves and L.

It was bittersweet.  We all loved seeing L again.  I think E and I took turns getting teary-eyed as we watched.  (I'd post some video here for you to see, but I haven't figured out how to post video on my blog yet....and it is just as well, because I'm not sure I really want to share moments that now seem so private and special.)  The kids were fascinated by how much they themselves have grown and changed in the past two years.  E realized how much speech therapy had helped:  "I couldn't say S's!".  J could see that he'd become much taller and less pouty.  S was startled to hear her four-year-old self sound "like a baby."  We were touched to see how obvious L's love was for each of us.  Our memories haven't played tricks with us on that.

I was taken aback by the video record of how hard I worked to have L with us at home and to give her and all of us some sort of normalcy.  Sometimes, I tend to look back at that time of my life with a lot of self-criticisms.  I should have done this, or that, or made sure that this happened, etc., etc.  Last night I was able to watch myself on video with love and charity.  I was doing the best I could, under the circumstances.  I'm so proud of myself for trying.

There was one video, taken on J's seventh birthday.  It was in between a long string of winter hospitalizations for L.  It was mid-January, and all of our Christmas decorations were still up.  The house looked pretty disorganized.  The birthday cake was obviously from a bakery.  We only had five birthday candles.  I was carrying L in my arms, and a portable oxygen tank over my shoulder, which was attached to L.  Judging by how close I was standing to the flaming birthday cake with a tank of oxygen, I'm pretty sure we'd just been released from the hospital that day, and home health hadn't arrived yet to explain home oxygen use to me, yet.  (It is extremely combustible.)  There are dark circles under my eyes and my hair looks really bad.  E's clothes are mismatched and S's hair looks as if it hasn't seen a brush in days.  From behind the camera, B is complementing the girls on how well they wrapped the gifts, and I'm viewing some of the birthday gifts with clear displeasure--obviously, I hadn't been involved in the purchases.  E, J, and S are clearly starved for attention, judging by the number of times they jump up and down in front of the camera and turn somersaults over my feet.  L looks like she is struggling to breathe.

It almost gave me an anxiety attack watching.  That was my life.  Somehow I lived through that.

One of the last videos I watched was filmed with me behind the camera.  B likes to have us fade in to each new date, and as the scene fades in, you hear me saying, "It is about four o'clock in the morning."  I'm pointing the camera at L, who is lying on the spare bed in her room, happily playing with a small stuffed giraffe.  It is about a week before L died, and I'm filming something that was typical for L and I: a night with very little sleep.  In the video, I explain that L often tries to let her siblings have my attention during the day while they are awake, but she likes to have fun with me while they are asleep.  The camera follows L playing with the giraffe and batting at other toys.  She is clearly enjoying herself.

"Are you wide awake?" I playfully ask L.  She responds with a happy grin and an outstretched hand.

"Is Mommy tired?"  I ask L.  She looks at the camera and blinks a yes, then smiles widely.

"You are right, Mommy is tired,"  I agree.  "So, do you think we should turn off the lights and go to sleep?"


L emphatically shakes her head back and forth, "No."  I laugh.  "You are so smart.  You know exactly what you want, and you are so good at telling Mommy."  I laugh again as she grins at me.  "I love to play with you, too."  I tell her.


I watched that video.  And I watched it again.  That was my life.  That was why I lived through the portable oxygen tank and the slapped together birthdays and the messy house and the long hospitalizations and the anxiety attacks.  For beautiful moments like that.

That was my life.  It was amazing.

Suddenly, I realized that FHE should have ended long ago.  It was 9:30 P.M., way past bedtime.  It was time for everyone to brush their teeth and say prayers and get into bed, and someone remembered she had a permission slip for me to sign.....and I looked around at the chaos of bedtime and felt so grateful.  Families are forever.  I have these three wonderful children and a husband to take care of right now, and they need me so much.  And I have L, who doesn't need me so much right now, but she's still part of our family and always will be, because we are a forever family.  And I'm looking forward to the day when I get to hold her in my arms again and she's well and whole and we can do things without a tank of oxygen strapped on my shoulder.   


This is my life, as it is and as it will be.  It is amazing.

See?  Blessings do come from having Family Home Evening.

Race Day!

This weekend we enjoyed one of our annual family traditions: the Marathon.  Every year--with the exception of last year--some of us run in the races.  This year, all of us ran in the races.  None of us are marathoners, but some of us are half marathoners.  The location for this race venue is really beautiful, especially with the fall colors. 

B always runs the half marathon, and this year I had trained for it, too.  (I ran my first half marathon in the spring.)  However, 10 days of head cold/stomach flu combo leading up to the half marathon made me chicken out.  I switched my entry over to the 5K, along with J and our friend Banks.  E,S, and E's friend K entered the Kids' Marathon (1 mile).  We start helping the kids train once school starts.  This was J's first 5K, but he'd been doing really well in training.  He was excited.

Having the stomach flu before the race didn't stop B!  (I tell you, the man is pioneer stock.  Total Spartan.  I honestly think I married the Bionic Man.)  He was determined to follow through and run the half Marathon.  He didn't get his best time, but he still got a better time than I would have!  Here he his after he finished.

Before you make fun of our crazy outfits, let me tell you, IT WAS FRIGID!!!  As I mentioned, we've come to this race before, but we've never experience such cold temperatures.  We were dressed in multiple layers, and I didn't even shed a layer when I was running.  Oh, I guess I took off my scarf.  But that was it.  It was really that cold.  Here is a picture of the girls, trying to stay warm.

Brrrr!  It is making me cold just remembering!  But I get warm as my heart swells with motherly pride.....because J took first place in his division of the 5K.  Way to go J!  Here he is, proudly displaying his "trophy".

Yes, that is a mug.  I'd like to know who came up with that bright idea.  For heaven's sake, the child earns his first big win, and all he has to show for it is a MUG?  Well, as J explained to me upon our return, it is actually not a mug, it is a trophy, and he does not intend to use it for hot chocolate or other beverages.

Here is another picture of J, the athlete.  I gave birth to him!  And picked out the polarfleece he's wearing.  And he totally beat me in the 5K.

Our friend, Banks, who has been running with B, was also running in the 5K.  His first one.  His assignment was to run ahead of J, while I would run behind him.  I was somewhat concerned about J's safety, since he is only 8 years old, and this was a 3.1 mile course.  What really happened was that it took Banks the first half mile of the race just to catch up with J, and then next half mile just to get ahead of him.  And I was waaaayyyy behind both of them.  Pushing S in the jogging stroller, who announced to me at the half mile mark that she had to go potty.  The story of my life!  Banks said that he crossed the finish time and looked behind him for J.  J was weaving between the legs of big, tall men, who were surprised to be beaten by such a little dude!  By the way, I just looked at the results online and discovered that, not only did J beat everyone in his age category, he beat everyone in the 11-14 year old category, too!

This is a picture of Banks and J stretching after the race.  Banks got an excellent time, as well.  Way to go, Banks!  And here is a picture of my handsome husband and son.  You can tell B has had some time to recover and change into dry clothing, in this one.

K and E are veteran runners, but this was S's very first race.  Look at these awesome pictures of S and her good friend, B, stretching out before the 1 mile Kids' Marathon.

S is in the black track pants, and B is the little girl with pom-poms on her hat.  Aren't they hilarious?  What is even funnier is what happened to B's parents on race day.  B's father trained for the half marathon, and ran it that morning.  Her mother was there, close to the finish line, ready to take pictures as her husband ran past.  She was excited about his accomplishment, and was trying to get good pictures, so she jumped off the sidelines and ran alongside him for the last few yards of the race.  The crazy thing is, the girl was 38 weeks pregnant!  Note that I use the past tense, because her water broke as she was running!!!  Luckily, Grandma was there to help with the girls, because our friends had to head to the hospital immediately.  Their new baby girl was born less than five hours after Daddy crossed the finish line.  Is that the best birth story ever, or what?

Anyway, S ran in her first race, and we were very proud.  We are pretty sure that if there had been a category for runners with artificial heart valves, S would have won!  She had to stop and take a few rests along the way, but she was determined to run--not walk.  So after each brief rest, she would take off again.  She's an excellent sprinter.

Look at her go!  The kids marathon course goes around this lovely village green, surrounded by historic homes built for the officers back when this area was a large army base.  One of the homes was showing lots of Halloween spirit, with an extensively decorated front yard and porch.  S hates scary Halloween decorations.  She really does.  It makes it difficult to take her shopping during the month of October, because she gets so worried that we will see scary things when we are in stores.  She cowers in the bottom of the shopping cart, whimpering, while the other shoppers Wonder About Us.  So S stopped short when she saw the spooky house ahead.  She sat down on the curb, and hid her head between her knees.  J and I, who were running alongside her, tried to give her some encouragement.  S thought it would be better to turn back than run past the scary house.  We gave her a few minutes to think about it, during which time a worried B called me on the cell phone, wondering if S was in respiratory distress.  (No, just Halloween distress.)

At last, S leaped to her feet, covered one eye with one hand, and one ear with the other, and declared, "I CAN DO THIS!"  She sprinted past the spooky house, and as she did, she yelled, "YOU CAN'T SCARE ME!  NOTHING CAN SCARE ME WHILE I AM RUNNING!"  I was impressed.  I'm not that brave, or that strong.

Last but not least, a picture of E approaching the finish line.  Look at that form.  She looks so graceful.

So, we all had a good time.  Some of us had a better good time than others, but we can honestly say that good times were had by all.  Personally, my favorite thing about running is not running.  Guess what my favorite thing about running is?  This will be easy for you to guess if you have seen me in person in the past five years.  My favorite part about running is:

Eating lots of pasta the night before a race!  Eat lots of carbs, everybody, we're running them off in the morning!

Testing..1-2-3..Testing

Yes, I know the blog works.  I was just trying to come up with a catchy phrase for today's topic:  Tests.  Specifically, medical tests.  The kind you can't study for. 

And perhaps that is the reason I hate them so much--because there is no way to guarantee that I (or my children or husband) will pass them.  No way to prepare ahead of time to ensure a positive outcome.  It drives me crazy. 

You see, way back in the day when I was in school, I was great at tests.  I was great at them even if I didn't put much effort into studying.  (For the most part.)  It isn't because I'm a genius.  I'm just good at taking tests, for some reason.  Especially if there were essay questions.  I could fake my way through any essay question.  And multiple choice tests were always a breeze.  I took one of those test-taking prep classes in high school, right before I took the ACTs, and most of the guessing tips they gave me were things I'd been doing for years.  What can I say, I'm a really good guesser.  Guessing and essay writing earned me a bachelor's degree.  Looking back, I could have learned a lot more in college if I hadn't been such a good guesser.

Anywho, I have far less confidence when it comes to medical tests.  Lab results.  Chromosome analysis.  X-rays.  Echocardiograms.  All that.  My results frequently aren't positive.  Or negative.  Lots of times you want your medical tests to be negative, right?  (By the way, I'm kind of using the wrong pronoun.  By "my" results I really mean "my children's" results.)  We've had some pretty far-out test results come our way over the last few years.  Some that were unexpected.  Some that were devastating.  Some that were life changing.  Some that were confusing.  A few that were reassuring. 

That has led to something that my time as a student never prepared me for: test anxiety.

I tend to be pretty stoic when a doctor tells me he needs to run a test.  I almost always agree to it.  I'm always very curious about what they are testing for, how the test works, etc.  I even ask if there are other tests they can think of that can be done at the same time.  (Let's be frank: if someone is going to draw my child's blood for something, I don't want them coming back the next day saying they thought of another test they need and ask for more blood.  I like to encourage them to get as much out of one invasive procedure as they possibly can. )

Over the years, I've gotten pretty good at helping my children through the step of getting a sample, as well.  You would not believe the things I've done to get my children through various medical procedures....unless you've had to get your child through the same procedures.  Sing Broadway show tunes during blood draws?  Check.  Breastfeed while two nervous residents perform an echocardiogram on my breastfeeding baby?  Check.  Let a two year old chew gum so she'll sit still for an EKG?  Check.  This past summer I got S to pretend she was a cookie being baked in a pretend oven so that she would hold still for a 60 minute MRI without sedation.  (If you know S, you know what an accomplishment that is.)

It is after the test that I have issues.  The waiting.  The wondering.  What are they going to find out?  How bad is it going to be?  Is there anything they can do about it?  What am I going to have to learn how to do now?  More waiting.  I can't even write about the way I feel while I'm waiting for results. 

Getting the results can be hard, too.  Over the years I've had more practice with this, but it never gets any easier.  "Your baby has a chromosome abnormality we've never actually seen before," is not exactly a great conversation starter.  You hear the words, they hit like a ton of bricks, and then one side of your brain tries to ask the doctor all the appropriate questions while the other side reels in disbelief.  I've learned to view the phrase, "We aren't exactly sure what these results mean," with as much distaste as, "The results weren't quite what we were hoping for."

So why is this on my mind today?  It is because I'm having test anxiety again.  J had a sleep study last night.  To check for apnea.  He might need to have his tonisils taken out.  It is not a big deal.  Really.  But I still worry.  After all, we are the family with all the wierd medical issues.  In my mind, I'm fairly certain that they are going to tell me J sleeps very well, he's just slightly congested and here is some allergy medicine, or they'll tell me we need to schedule a tonsillectomy.  All very normal.  But in my heart, I just can't rest easy until they do tell me those things.

Okay, I really don't like to end things on a low note.  So I'm going to tell you one funny story about tests.  Back when I was pregnant with L, we were seeing a perinatologist even before we knew what was going on with her, just because of things that had happened during my other pregancies.  I tell you this so that you'll understand that this particular story wasn't the first time B and I had been at the perinatologist's office together.  So, we'd had the scary ultrasound that showed L had all kinds of problems, and I think we'd even had the amnio, by this point.  Our medical team thought it would be helpful to study the chromosomes of B and I, to see if our genetic make-up would shed any light on L's.  They told us that if we'd come together to the next appointment, they'd just do a quick blood draw on each of us and we'd be good to go.   It was a busy day at the perinatologist's office the day we went in, and so instead of doing our blood draws in the exam room, they did them out in the hallway.  Something about getting his blood drawn in an OB's office really tickled B's funny bone.  After all, he was getting really wierd looks from some of the people that walked past.  He started making wisecracks about how surprised he was that his pregnancy test had been positive.  Haha.  The nurses thought he was hilarious.  The nurse finished his blood draw, and she asked him to look at the label and verify that it was his name on the vial, etc., etc.  That was when he looked up at her and said with a completely straight face, "So, will this chromosome test tell me if I'm the father, or not?"

The poor nurse almost dropped the vial.  You should have seen the look on her face.  It wasn't until she realized how hard I was laughing that she was able to realize B was kidding.  She laughed, too, albeit nervously.  Rest assured, all the chromosome tests we have had prove that B is the father.  And that he and I aren't cousins.  Even distantly.  So I guess some medical tests do work out in my favor.

Speaking of children's artwork.....

I found this when I was going through the files of our children's artwork that my brilliant husband, B, has scanned into our computer.  I'd totally forgotten it existed.  It is hilarious.

Before I show it to you, I think I should provide a little disclaimer.  We really don't think that boy children are better than girl children at our house.  We are happy to have any children at all.  That being said, my husband was the eldest of six children.  The firstborn.  And the only boy.  Every time his mom had a baby, B was hoping for a brother.  Every time he was disappointed.  B loves his sisters, but he really, really, really wanted to have a little brother.  You can imagine how thrilled he was to have his own son.  But he really, really, really  wanted J to have a little brother.  That didn't happen....I'm afraid J will have to aquire brothers by marriage.  B is learning to live with disappointment.  But he is also quite conscious of the precarious position of his particular line of the Harding Name.....

....And so are the children.  I can prove it.  Here is the lovely coloring page S brought home from Primary class one Sunday in December.  She definitely took some artistic license with this one.Note the handwritten explanation B added, a helpful reminder of what S said when she handed this lovely piece of artwork to her daddy in the hallway after Primary.  Please don't be offended, and definitely don't use any Freudian theories to analyze it.

Only S's imagination could have created this.  Oh, my. 

Just in case you can't read B's notation, this is what it says:

S colored this picture when she was five years old.  Joseph is crying "because Baby Jesus is a girl."

I'm just really, really glad I'm not there in her class to hear any of the comments she makes.  Sometimes ignorance is bliss.

It has come to my attention that I have neglected to post any pictures of child J.  Somehow, this blog seems to be monopolized by pictures of his sisters.  This was unintentional, as J is a very fine looking son, even when he needs a haircut.  These are two of my favorites, taken a couple of years ago.

One of my favorite things about J is his hair.  It is real, and it is spectacular.  I only wish I could get this color for myself from a bottle.  It is nice and thick, and it would curl if we let it grow long enough.  Lucky, lucky boy.

J has a great personality.  He is lots of fun, with a great sense of humor and a love of people.  A lot like me, I would like to think.  He is also very much like me in other ways: easy going, easily distracted, absent-minded, and a procrastinator.  This is a challenge for me.  It is hard enough for me to keep myself on task, let alone someone else!  I've been struggling with how to make the negative sides of our two personalities equal a positive when it comes to getting chores, homework, and other tasks done.  I'm constantly looking for patience, and frequently I can't find it when I need it.  But J is a trooper.  He keeps on trying. 

If J were to win a contest, it would be for Best Brother Ever.  I mean it!  He may be the only one they've got, but J makes sure he's the only one his sisters will ever need.  He is very kind and willing to try to see their side of things.  He is also very adaptable.  J can go from playing football outside with the neighbor boys to agreeably joining the girls for a tea party.  J would never be caught dead in anything that seems remotely feminine, but he has a great selection of Jedi robes and other manly costumes for joining in the dress-up fun that the girls always seem to have.  Some of my happiest memories of L include J, because he was never far from her and always tried to help her be happy and comfortable.  Like this:

If you look really closely at this picture, you'll see that J is being very careful with L.  This was back in the days when L had an NG feeding tube.  (A tube that went in through her nose to deliver food to her tummy.)  He is snuggling her to sleep on one of our beds, making sure she has her beloved binky.  Told you he'd win.  This is proof.

J has lots of interests.  He does very well in school.  He also is proving to be quite the athlete.  What J lacks in size, he makes up for in commitment.  Once J understands what his role is on a team--no matter what the sport--he gives it his all.  Baseball, basketball, and soccer are his current favorite sports.  Here is J playing goalie in a recent soccer game.

 

Nothing got past him that day.  Nothing.

J has inherited his father's love for the outdoors, running, and scouting.  His first 5K race is coming up this weekend.  Ever since J was a toddler, he has been going to the scout activities that B was involved in.  (No matter where we live, B invariably ends up helping with Boy Scouts or Cub Scouts.  Yep, I married an Eagle Scout.)  J has been asking when he could be a scout since he was old enough to talk.  So you can bet who was first in line at the recruiting table when the Cub Scouts came to school.

Anybody want to buy some famously delicious Scout Popcorn?

Voila!  There you have it--enough pictures of child J to even up the score a little bit.  And seriously, we do have three more containers of popcorn to sell.