Oh, the makinas.

Our first major (and recurring) meltdown with Amare revolves around the magical makinas, i.e. cars, of which he took possession after arriving stateside. Personal property is a kinda new and high-priority concept to these guys, and Amare was somewhat ambivalent when the second car added to his inventory didn't hold the same appeal as the car given to Zenebe. Little brother was kind enough to trade during playtime, but Amare became rather mopey at the thought of possessing the inferior model (a Hummer -- does it get any better?) once play ceased and the cars returned to their respective owners. Mom and dad decided it might be best to eliminate the source of conflict altogether until things have settled down a bit; we still stand by this decision, and the cars will remain in their new, top-secret location for the foreseeable future. Amare holds a dissenting opinion, one he repeatedly articulated for approximately an hour yesterday morning: "Makina. Makina. Ma. Ki. Na." Mom and dad explored every possible avenue of distraction, but Amare redoubled his efforts with enhanced pouting and muscle failure tactics. "Maaakiiiinaaaa." Sadly for Amare, this experience with our bereft jello-child has only solidified our stance, as rewarding the protest with the goods seems rather unwise. But we're at least glad to have a story to hold over him when he grows older.

A couple of days back, we got a visit from "Crazy, Hella Pregnant Kelli™," occasioning the introduction of the identical (bless you, Kelli) toys she gave us at the shower a couple of weeks earlier. The toy itself is a little tricky to describe -- imagine one of those stiff leashes meant to simulate an invisible dog, then stick a little dude on a Segway at the end of it. Except it's a manual Segway that you pedal (you're welcome, Flintstones fan fiction authors). Whatever it is, the kids absolutely love the thing, and we've since had several requests to play with the "bicycles" (a fine simplification, even if it drives Dave crazy to equate such a contraption with the greatest machine ever invented).

This morning we paid our first visit to Harmony School, where the boys will eventually spend their days in the Early Childhood Program. We figured a quiet introduction on the weekend would provide a better, more gradual transition than immersing them in the full-on chaos of a school day. The school was a big hit; we explored the playground, rolled around on a giant ball in the gym, and emphasized during our first experience with a piano that it is without a doubt a percussion instrument. Zenebe has already repeatedly asked to return to school, and we're hoping against hope that we won't encounter any major breakdowns when it's time to start going to school for real.