I am going to record our daily doings for a day, each season this year. I'll try to get photos, too, but I may not. Some events don't lend themselves to photography, and it's hard to take pictures of things when you've stopped them to take a picture.
I spent the early morning, Sunday, cleaning the kitchen, sweeping and mopping. The boys played quietly with Lego for four or five hours. Their ability to do this amazes me.
I also made a couple of planner pages from scratch. I had made up versions in a word processor, but my printer stopped working. So I drew everything, planning to photocopy at the library the pages I need for the next couple of weeks. That was unexpectedly satisfying. I see more homemade forms in our future.
In the afternoon, a woman I met on a homeschooling forum came over to look at Life of Fred, or to have her children look at it. They decided not to use it, but did like Artistic Pursuits.
On her way out she asked how the Scientist became so knowledgeable about science. I wasn't prepared to answer that question. Usually I say, "he's homeschooled," but that wasn't going to get me off here. I took a few silent seconds and flashed back through a hundred little things. In the meantime, she volunteered, "Is he just interested?" I went with that one, even though the Storyteller also knows his stuff. For the rest of the evening, though, I will be mentally listing our science experiences. I fondly remember sitting an eighteen-month-old Scientist on my lap for endless rounds of the same five Let's-Read-And-Find-Out books that he loved. That subscription we had that sent us a science kit in the mail each month for two years. Science kits for birthdays and holidays. Beakman's World! Magic School Bus. Endless endless reading.
Her children, and the five-year-old cousin who lives in the apartment upstairs, played with a laser and mirror set, Snap Circuits, and the box of dress ups. It was nice to have homeschooled pre-teens over. Her thirteen-year-old daughter smiled at the Storyteller when he came out in full costume, saying that dress-up is indeed fun and she loves to do it. Such sweet fresh air! I need more homeschooling friends.
While they looked at books, I fried tofu in cinnamon and curry powder, boiled rice, did dishes, and set the cardboard recycling up to go out.
I thought we had a predictable evening ahead of us: supper, shower for whoever kid is current in the rotation, an hour and a half of reading time, half an hour of singing together, and finally that last sweet threat before lights out, to cream anyone who pokes his brother in the bunk next to him. But dinner turned into a family meeting, at which I realized I had no time to shop tomorrow before the food had to go into the crockpot at eight a.m.
Eight, you say? Yes, well. The Scientist asked if he could get started on his science program for this year, so I looked at the schedule to see when we would have time for him, then I had to tell him that we're booked through Friday. It's going to be a busy week. Just like summer to be so busy. Monday involved a doctor's appointment at ten a.m., a Magic the Gathering gathering at 1 p.m., and a meeting for me at 6:30 p.m. And I didn't have any fake chicken to put into the crockpot for the white chili I planned to serve for dinner on Monday.
So out we went to the grocery store on our bikes when normally we'd be settling in to reading and sunset watching. Halfway there, the rain began to come down in heavy, slamming burstlets. We took shelter under a patch of trees for a little bit, but then pedaled as fast as we could to the store. It became hurricane fierce just as we were locking our bikes up.
Now, the Hero had just -- the weekend before -- finally gotten the hang of riding a two wheeler. His speed through that rain was incredible. He'd spent a year on a bike that had no pedals, learning to balance. The Scientist and a cousin who lives upstairs put the pedals back on his bike just the day before. I was very impressed by my littlest one.
I was impressed by my big one, too, when he volunteered to stay out in the downpour to creatively lock up three bikes and a scooter using just two measly U locks. He managed it, though, coming triumphantly in to meet us just as we checked out. Then he carried the groceries home in a backpack, too. I am lucky to have boys who are so good to me.
When we crossed the bridge over the river, we saw dozens of spiders, each the size of a quarter. We walked slowly across in wonder, a little scared but mostly amazed. The spiders had made webs everywhere across the fence that guarded pedestrians from the water below. If it had been light, I would have gotten pictures, but they only come out at night.
The Hero was sad that we'd miss our evening singing time, so we sang as we crossed the bridge. I felt the picture of insanity, howling out old folk songs with three kids in the rain in the dark on bikes on a highway, stopping occasionally to gasp at a giant web or spider. I am insane. It's a good kind, though. A happy kind.
The boys fell asleep quickly at home, changing into dry warm clothes, curling up under warm covers. I straightened up a little bit, then settled in with an upstairs cousin to listen to a chapter of the last book in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. It was a satisfying bit of the story, a good end to a satisfying day. Onwards...
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