Our German studies made us laugh. Cleaned some more floors (I’m on a kick). Rose made scones. They were delicious.
It was chilly so the kids didn’t spend much time outside. But Scott and I walked through the park. It smells like lemon in the mornings.
I want to remember how beams of light shot from Rilla’s eyes when she happened upon Roxaboxen in a basket of books. Oh wait, that was the day before. She went into full scurry mode, assembling a pile for the day’s reading: Strega Nona and—wait, where’s Hist Whist? We finally found it and she had me read it through twice.
So yesterday of course we had to start with Strega Nona, since we’d run out of time for it the day before. Huck hadn’t heard it before, and Rilla only remembered that she liked it, not what it was about. I think one of the nicest things about having a big family is getting to experience things like a child’s first time hearing Strega Nona over and over. The overflowing pasta pot isn’t the only magical thing about that story.
After that: Aoki by Annelore Parot, which is one of those books with such scrumptious art you have to pore over it for a long time, and the oft-requested My Name Is Elizabeth. By then it was Huck’s naptime. After he crashed, Rilla and I snuck in our chapter of Tumtum and Nutmeg.
Those Redwall scones were really incredibly good. Just the right hint of sweetness. We’ve decided Rose should always make scones on Thursdays.
Guernsey Literary Society Open Thread
Notes on E-Reading
Portland Book Festival Show & Tell