Sunday, March 18, 2012
What I never want to forget...
The way Paul writes notes to his grandparents and friends, the way he sticks them in the mail slot, the way he periodically opens the box all day to see if they have been spirited away to their destination, the way he laconically notes, "Nope. Not yet. "
#17 --Book it
"Knit one, Pearl one" by Gil McKenzie -- not my favorite in this series, but I loved it anyway. Love all those characters.
And now onto "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" so I can watch the movie... And for a reminder of why everyone wants to write like Le Carre.
And now onto "Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy" so I can watch the movie... And for a reminder of why everyone wants to write like Le Carre.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
I love that hodge-podge
I love the religious hodge-podge in our four walls. Eleanor sums it up thus:
"Mom's a Quaker; Dad's a Buddhist; Paul doesn't know what the heck he is; and I'm more of a Christian."
As our pastor says, "I love everything about that."
We are the melting pot, the fruit salad of America, right in our nuclear family home.
In Paul's latest spiritual development, he has decided that he quite likes Jesus but that "God is not in real life." As far as I can tell, this statement means that we can't see God here on Earth, but nonetheless it's a statement to disturb his sister. That's half the reason for making any statement.
Further, he likes to announce that "Jesus died." His sister would like him to include more of the "And then he came back to life" bit of the story. But Paul is four, and four year olds are obsessed with death. Things being alive are no big deal to four year olds, but they've just found out about death. That's the part of the story that's interesting to a preschooler.
And then there was this recent bedtime conversation.
Paul: God watches over us.
Jenny: Does he? [because the teacher/social worker can't quite get away from the exploratory questions.]
Paul: No, but he thinks what we think. He knows what we think.
Jenny: He's a little bit like Santa Claus in that way then. [because I'm always trying to concrete-ize the concept of a loving God for children by going through their concept of Santa. A loving but invisible Santa is the easiest way to get to a loving but invisible God.]
Paul: Yes! Yes! They have the same beard.
Theology Fail. Back to the melting pot.
"Mom's a Quaker; Dad's a Buddhist; Paul doesn't know what the heck he is; and I'm more of a Christian."
As our pastor says, "I love everything about that."
We are the melting pot, the fruit salad of America, right in our nuclear family home.
In Paul's latest spiritual development, he has decided that he quite likes Jesus but that "God is not in real life." As far as I can tell, this statement means that we can't see God here on Earth, but nonetheless it's a statement to disturb his sister. That's half the reason for making any statement.
Further, he likes to announce that "Jesus died." His sister would like him to include more of the "And then he came back to life" bit of the story. But Paul is four, and four year olds are obsessed with death. Things being alive are no big deal to four year olds, but they've just found out about death. That's the part of the story that's interesting to a preschooler.
And then there was this recent bedtime conversation.
Paul: God watches over us.
Jenny: Does he? [because the teacher/social worker can't quite get away from the exploratory questions.]
Paul: No, but he thinks what we think. He knows what we think.
Jenny: He's a little bit like Santa Claus in that way then. [because I'm always trying to concrete-ize the concept of a loving God for children by going through their concept of Santa. A loving but invisible Santa is the easiest way to get to a loving but invisible God.]
Paul: Yes! Yes! They have the same beard.
Theology Fail. Back to the melting pot.
#16 book it
"love letters" by Katie fforde -- not the best KF. BUT a good continuation of the chick lit antidote to "game of thrones" grimness
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Well, that is wicked
Because Paul fell asleep so easily tonight, I somehow convinced myself that "springing forward" meant that his 7:30 bedtime was the equivalent of yesterday's 8:30. I certainly couldn't figure out any other reason why my offspring would drop off when I was only one verse into "the somnambulant wheels on the bus." So I thanked my stars and completely misunderstood Daylight Savings Time.
Which misapprehension I then applied to the girl by telling her that even though the clock said "8:20," her body felt "9:20" and therefore needed to go to bed pronto. Which she fell for. Probably because I believed it.
The lost hour may be kicking me in the butt (or in the cognition),but it seems to be working out for me.
We'll see what I have to say tomorrow after wrangling sixteen 4-year-olds.
Which misapprehension I then applied to the girl by telling her that even though the clock said "8:20," her body felt "9:20" and therefore needed to go to bed pronto. Which she fell for. Probably because I believed it.
The lost hour may be kicking me in the butt (or in the cognition),but it seems to be working out for me.
We'll see what I have to say tomorrow after wrangling sixteen 4-year-olds.
Reader,I did not laugh
Tonight, Elly and I went on a 5k bike ride at the park.
Elly: Mom, do you think I'll be able to ride on the bike path by myself when I'm a teenager?
Jenny: Yes. I mean, when you think about it, your bike is probably how you'll get most places you want to go when you're a teenager.
E: huh?
J: Like if you have a job, you'll ride your bike there. Or if you want to go to the library... Or the movies... You'll ride your bike.
E: I'll go to the library by myself when I'm a teenager?
J: I would think so.
[long pause for thinking]
E: I see I need to make some modifications to my fantasy world.
[Reader, I did not laugh. ]
E : Mom, what does modification mean?
J: changes.
E: Yep, I need to make some modifications.
Elly: Mom, do you think I'll be able to ride on the bike path by myself when I'm a teenager?
Jenny: Yes. I mean, when you think about it, your bike is probably how you'll get most places you want to go when you're a teenager.
E: huh?
J: Like if you have a job, you'll ride your bike there. Or if you want to go to the library... Or the movies... You'll ride your bike.
E: I'll go to the library by myself when I'm a teenager?
J: I would think so.
[long pause for thinking]
E: I see I need to make some modifications to my fantasy world.
[Reader, I did not laugh. ]
E : Mom, what does modification mean?
J: changes.
E: Yep, I need to make some modifications.
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