We could not be more into roly-polies if we tried. – Katie
Actual conversation in the car this morning:
Rob: “Are you going to play in the 8th Grade vs. Teachers volleyball game this afternoon, Mom?”
Me: “Is that the game where you hit the ball with a stick or you hit it with your hands?”
Rob: “MOM. You are absolutely not allowed to ask to play.”
Abbey, equally alarmed: “Hrm, yes, I don’t think you should either.” – Katie
Big day today! Given that it’s our last week of school, there are fun, unusual things to do every day, but this morning as I was sharpening pencils for 1st Graders somebody looked out the window and saw this:
The thief! A 1st Grade parent donated this garden box, which sits outside one of the classroom windows, and the class has grown a handful of radishes and now lettuce. Which someone is enjoying enormously.
Look how fat he is! That’s lettuce-fed coney right there. And of course when one child spotted the rabbit, lippity-lipping along and leaping right into the box, everybody had to do this:
Wascally Wabbit aside, we did eventually have to get started with the schoolday, and the next time I glanced out the window he was gone. – Katie
For whatever reason God chose to make man as he is–limited
and suffering and subject to sorrows and death–He had the
honesty and courage to take His own medicine. Whatever game He
is playing with His creation, He has kept His own rules and
played fair. He can exact nothing from man that He has not
exacted from Himself. He has Himself gone through the whole of
human experience, from the trivial irritations of family life
and the cramping restrictions of hard work and lack of money to
the worst horrors of pain and humiliation, defeat, despair, and
death. When He was a man, He played the man. He was born in
poverty and died in disgrace and thought it was well
… Dorothy Leigh Sayers (1893-1957), Christian Letters to a Post-Christian World, Eerdmans, 1969, p. 14
Hard it is, very hard,
To travel up the slow and stony road
To Calvary, to redeem mankind; far better
To make but one resplendent miracle,
Lean through the cloud, lift the right hand of power
And with a sudden lightning smite the world perfect.
Yet this was not God’s way, Who had the power,
But set it by, choosing the cross, the thorn,
The sorrowful wounds. Something there is, perhaps,
That power destroys in passing, something supreme,
To whose great value in the eyes of God
That cross, that thorn, and those five wounds bear witness.
… Dorothy Leigh Sayers (1893-1957), The Devil to Pay, V. Gollancz, ltd., 1939, p. 68
Helen’s grandmother treated us to an Ikea day. Ikea, the land of DIY furniture for Vikings and divorced Dads. And brightly colored things for children.
When they eat their lunch, like Jack Sprat and his wife, Helen likes fries and Sarah likes meatballs, so between them they clean the plate.
They prefer sitting right next to each other so they can eat, fight, and take things off each others’ plates more conveniently.
They try hard to be patient while we adults look at 500 million cheap, attractive things made by inventive Swedes, and then when we reach the kids’ area they get to play on the toys. O lovely toys!
Sarah pulled 8 stuffed dogs out of a bin and hid them in a circus tent, and then came and got me to look at her “pet shop”. She’s good with dogs! – Katie
A kind friend gave us a little Shumard Oak tree in a black plastic bucket. The bucket has been its cosy house for a year. It waves a gentle hello whenever we walk past it into the house.
Do you know what embryonic leaves look like when they emerge in Spring? I didn’t until this year when it happened immediately beyond our front door: the leaves are born like the curl on a cursive letter. They unfurl like a bright pink feather, blushing from red to green as they reach average leaf proportions. It’s beautiful.
The spot right in front of the door is the girl’s favorite. They play around the oak bucket, gathering roly-polys in a tupperware and picking flower petals to make fairy soup. – Katie