This week’s Carnival of Homeschooling is hosted by Principled Discovery, and if you happened to miss the latest Homeschool Country Fair, there’s some great reading there, too. It went up in late August, but I’m running about that far behind on lots of things these days…
One of my best excuses.
My speech-delayed son is in loooove with his voice. Words! When you use them, people react! Things happen! Words are MAGIC! For example, when it is one in the morning and you are feeling lonely, you can say MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM MOM and your mother will come and get you out of your bed and bring you into hers. She will do this because there is already one baby sleeping in her bed and she doesn’t mind being bookended by another.
But then it is possible she will (foolish optimist that she is) attempt to go back to sleep. This situation calls for more words. HI HI HI HI HI MOM is effective, as is BABY SLEEPING! (Even if you pronounce this as "Gaygee ee-ee," she will know what you mean.) This phrase achieves highly satisfactory results. She will instantly be wide awake and will pay lots of attention to you, rubbing your back and possibly murmuring hush sounds to you which you can’t actually hear because you don’t wear your hearing aids in bed.
Another aspect of Word Magic is the power to make people laugh. This is an extremely intoxicating experience and you will be eager to revisit it as often as possible. CLEAN UP, you will shout at your sisters, and this will make them howl. It will also cause them to leap into action, and rooms will become spotless before your mother’s very eyes. This garners the bonus payout of much beaming and hand-clapping from all the women in your life. You will feel like king of the world and probably won’t realize that you are in actuality the court jester.
Sometimes, however, your magical words will cause laughter where laughter seems contraindicated. You don’t see what is funny about asking for your BRUSHTEETH. A fellow needs to brush his teeth, after all, and what’s he supposed to use, his BRUSHHAIR? And when getting dressed in the morning, you fail to see what is so doggone amusing about requesting your HAM. I mean, you’ve put on your shirt, and the next logical step is to put on your ham, right? Are you supposed to go around barelegged all day?
Women. Sometimes they just don’t make any sense.
What I remember is September 12th. Beanie had a doctor’s appointment in Queens, so I was driving west on Long Island, staring at the distant smoke that still rose in heavy plumes where the Towers had been. They were ghost towers now, made of smoke and ash. On the way out of my neighborhood I had to pass our town’s train station. On any other weekday it would have been packed full at that time of day, but on this day it was almost deserted.
Later I learned that there were thirteen cars left in the parking lot of that train station after everyone else finally made it home on that terrible day. Thirteen cars. Thirteen dads. Thirteen holes in the hearts of families like ours.
Beanie is five and a half years old now. If her dad had been one of those thirteen drivers, she would not remember him. There would be no Wonderboy and no Rilla.
I don’t know their names, any of them, but today I am thinking about those thirteen men who parked at the station one morning just like any other, and didn’t get back in their cars at the end of the day. Those men, and their families, and those thirteen empty cars.
Meander over to The Lilting House and see our latest rabbit trail!
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Awesmom was kind enough to share these delightful photos of the supercool high-rise complex her children constructed out of books. Martha and Charlotte provide crucial structural support. I am honored. With great effort, I am refraining from making bad puns about building the imagination…
…if Moreena’s house sells before mine does, I’ll, I’ll…I’ll write a post about it, that’s what I’ll do.
Or should that be "in the wheel"?
Oh, kiddo, I know the feeling.
The Author to Her Book
by Anne Bradstreet
Thou ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain,
Who after birth didst by my side remain,
Till snatched from thence by friends, less wise than true,
Who thee abroad, exposed to public view,
Made thee in rags, halting to th’ press to trudge,
Where errors were not lessened (all may judge).
At thy return my blushing was not small,
My rambling brat (in print) should mother call,
I cast thee by as one unfit for light,
The visage was so irksome in my sight;
Yet being mine own, at length affection would
Thy blemishes amend, if so I could.
I washed thy face, but more defects I saw,
And rubbing off a spot still made a flaw.
I stretched thy joints to make thee even feet,
Yet still thou run’st more hobbling than is meet;
In better dress to trim thee was my mind,
But nought save homespun cloth i’ th’ house I find.
In this array ‘mongst vulgars may’st thou roam.
In critic’s hands beware thou dost not come,
And take thy way where yet thou art not known;
If for thy father asked, say thou hadst none;
And for thy mother, she alas is poor,
Which caused her thus to send thee out of door.
Ohhhh, this is too much fun. Scott sent us a link to the WikiMap view of the house we’ll soon be renting, and just like that, a new addiction is born. The kids and I just spent the entire morning looking at aerial views of, well, everywhere.
We found our current house in Virginia and Scott’s new California office. Look, girls, there’s Daddy’s roof! Beanie was pretty sure she could see him waving. We scouted the whereabouts of parks and libraries in the neighborhood we’re moving to next month. I may not be packed yet, but doggonit I know how to get to the library in my new hometown. And the Target, and the nearest Catholic church. Yes, we have mapped out our own little baseball diamond of essentials: first base, second base, third base, home plate. Best part: there’s a Schlotzsky’s in the infield.
And the outfield? Great googly-moogly!
And because it’s a wiki, you can add your own labels and landmarks to the map, too. People from all over the world are entering the names of churches, schools, hospitals, parks, recreation areas, and stores. Oh, and also: Ashley’s house. I don’t know which Ashley. But her house is in my outfield.