overheard from the other room

Jonah: Caroline, do you want to throw this sandal at me?
Caroline: I'm Queen Amidala.

Jonah: Caroline, do you want to throw this sandal at me?
Caroline: I'm Queen Amidala.

Jonah: Caroline, do you want to throw this sandal at me?
Caroline: I'm Queen Amidala.

Jonah: Caroline, do you want to throw this sandal at me?
Caroline: I'm Queen Amidala.

Jonah: Queen Amidala, do you want to throw this sandal at me?
Caroline: No.

overheard from the other room

All quotes are Josh. All laughter is Miriam. They were in the other room so Josh could get her dressed for bed.

Stop it!
No, you're laughing, but it's not funny.
[laughter]
Stop, seriously!
[more laughter]
You are the worst to put a diaper on.
[sounds of dressing and diapering]
No wait! Where are you going?
[laughter]
Stop it! Come back!

coyotes again

Caroline (looking at a picture of a coyote): Mom, that's a coyote. He would eat me if I went in there. But I can't go in there. This is a book and I'm a people...but a real coyote could go in there. 

my little packrat

Here's the thing about Jonah: he's a collector. He saves everything. Case in point: we had a zoo coupon. One half of the paper was a coupon for admission to the zoo, and the other half said, "Thank you for visiting the Phoenix zoo! This is not a valid coupon." Any guesses who saved that half? Yes, Jonah did. At one point this month, all four pairs of scissors were in his room. Almost all the pencils and black pens are in his room. He saves the boxes his Legos come in. He has a bookcase Josh made for the express purpose of saving things, and the bookcase treasures are overflowing to the floor and surrounding wall space. About six months ago, we had to ban him from hanging anything on his walls (but gave him a HUGE bulletin board, so don't worry about his little creative soul) because every inch he could reach had something taped to it.

Here's another thing about Jonah: He's an organizer. He's often found reorganizing the books or toy kitchen or his closet. So when he declared this morning that he wanted to rearrange his room and get some things out of his room so he had more clean space, I definitely did not discourage him. I was the kid who liked to alphabetize the VHS drawer, after all.

for eating

Today, Josh and Jonah are studying bird calls. When they listened to the call of the morning dove, Caroline perked up. "It's like hunting! Remember when we go hunting? To kill birds? For eating? For dinner?"

Yesterday, Josh and I were feeling overwhelmed by the many things we had to do. Trying to help us feel better, I said, "Jonah, how do you eat an elephant?" Jonah had an answer! "Well, you kill it and slice it open and eat the meat."

For the record, we have never been elephant hunting. Just in case anyone was wondering about that.

Dear Dad,

Guess what I've been singing all day?

what language am I speaking then?

I still remember my shock when I found out that in England, the letter Z is not zee but zed. How is it possible that I never knew that? It was the same sort of shock that I felt when I found out that hyenas are actually related to cats (not dogs). My world view was never the same.

So imagine my surprise the other night when I heard the word aubergine. Based on the usage, it was obviously a color, and most likely the sort of color a fussy/artistic person would use (think mustard instead of yellow). A quick google search yielded that the color was eggplant. I thought that would be the end of the discussion.

As I read more about it, though, I discovered that aubergine is not the color of eggplant. Aubergine is eggplant. Not only that, but the name "eggplant" came from one particular variety that is actually shaped and colored like an egg.

So let's get this straight: not only is there another commonly-used-in-other-parts-of-the-world name for eggplant, but there is finally some reasoning to the name to begin with. Think I can get away with calling it aubergine now?

Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH

As we finished the final pages of this book today, Jonah declared, "I want to read another one just like this one!"

There is really nothing sweeter to my ears. Now to find something he'll like (knowing full well how hard it is to follow a great book).

The difference an hour makes.

To the mom trying to convince her child that she really didn't turn on the car's heater, I feel your pain. My house was stuffy and warm today.

To the genius who put the shade up at the neighborhood park, thank you. Just an hour later and the shady parts were even a little cool. 

Edited to add: somehow he convinced her that it would be fun for her to pull him home. Clever little punk.

more Caroline

"I am stronger. I can kill ants because I'm dangerous."

"When coyotes come, they make us mad and died. And eat us. I think."

Did I mention that when the children pretend to be a monsters, they are almost always coyotes?

we are sharing

I came out of the bathroom to find Caroline with my mug of hot chocolate. "Mommy, we are sharing some of your hot chocolate," she announced. Then she drank it all.

science Friday (on Sunday)

I love the NPR program Science Friday, but I rarely get to listen to it. Here in Maricopa County, it comes on the radio right in the middle of Friday lunch. By the time I'm driving home, the programming as moved on (to BBC News and then The Show...not that I have done this enough times to know that). So sometimes, like last night, I'll peruse the website to see if I've missed anything especially cool. So here, for your entertainment, are some cool science-y things:

Five Books Guaranteed to Make Kids Love Science (I have two on hold requests at the library already).

A video explaining why most mammals take the same amount of time to urinate, regardless of size (mostly). In the words of the authors, not everyone will find this interesting. Some people ask if it's a joke study. But it is both a legitimate study and interesting to ten-year-olds everywhere.

Something called The Leidenfrost Effect (or how to make water flow uphill).

I'm thinking I should have continued on with studying science. Maybe it would have ended up to be much more fascinating than my Introductory Biology and Chemistry classes led me to believe.

hello, sweet baby

If we're facebook friends, you've likely seen this picture:

But not this one:

Or this one:

Or this one:

Because really, whose newsfeed really needs that many versions of the same shot? Other than mine, of course. Reason #15 I have a blog: so I can say as much as I want.

Life

An hour ago, as I happily cut out word strips for our science lesson, I thought about the blog post I'd write this afternoon about the best parts of homeschooling (here's a preview: no school pick up), but then life happened. I snuck away for a shower with Miriam down for a nap and Jonah and Caroline playing. I got out of the shower to wails of "Jonah won't play with me anymore!" and Miriam screaming from the crib and Jonah running around with a blanket wrapped around his waist accusing me of taking all his shorts. How dare I wash them.

The crises have been solved. Caroline is playing the piano, Jonah is wearing sweatpants, and Miriam is back in bed and only a little sad about it. The thing is, I'm exhausted now. All of that took maybe 20 minutes and now I'm ready for a nap. 

Here's to a day full of life. 

Dear Dad,

As I rushed out the door to church (late, in a surprise to no one), I needed a three-ring binder. I thought I had one under my nightstand, but it wasn't there. So I grabbed the first binder on the pile of empty binders next to the bookcase. When I saw that it was your old church binder, I thought, "How perfect." Each time I've opened it today, though, it just gets me a little. Like I need to cough or sneeze  or clear my throat or cry. If someone had asked me a year ago what would remind me most of you, I probably would have said Carmex (in the metal container, if possible, and definitely not in the tube), or certain songs, or walking along the beach barefoot. Or just being barefoot in general, actually. Especially while driving. I can tell you that I would not have thought of your briefcase or this binder or the hat you wore to work in the yard. And yet it's those everyday things that hit me when I least expect it. The big things are happy memories or griefs I can see coming and prepare myself. It's the little ones, the habits and preferences that Miriam will never see and I might forget to tell her. I'll be busy telling her about your sense of humor and your life and your work ethic and the things you taught me. Will I think to tell her about the way you wrote (all caps) or the smell of your work truck? 

I'll be thinking of you as I work on my camp prep this year. Thanks for letting me share your binder.