A la cart

This week, Carl asked his coworkers to use caddywompus in a sentence (I might add that it was the first time I'd ever heard the word). And he didn't just ask them to use it with him. Oh nooOOOo. He works for an airline and asked them to use it with a customer. Nice!

Olivia ran up to Carl and I after soccer this past week, bursting with excitement. Our Bunker girl joyfully and seriously declared, "LOOK! I'm lucky 'cause I found a 3-leaf clover!"

Reece, the little imp, was apparently taking a hard core approach to sharing the Gospel with others, what with getting in trouble for hitting little girls with his Bible at AWANA. Then again, he asks such precious questions like, "Momma, does it rain in Heaven? I think it does because I like to play in the rain."

Cierah, well, you know the story. My girl has had a baaaaad week. And it didn't end with bee stings and hair ornaments. She also scored a big goal in soccer this past week. What a clear shot it was too, what with the other team letting her breeze by as she took her best power shot and put it in,.....the wrong goal. However, she did manage to gain some control after her downward spiral for the week. She informed me she refused to wear an animal mask at AWANA "because I just wanted to hang out with my friends." Um, does a four year old even know how to hang out???

And as for me? Well, I definitely have a very dear friend in my new BFF, Miss Sniz. I mean, she's now seen my hair transformed to Roseanna Roseanna Danna right before her very eyes and didn't run away in fright. That's true blue, people.

And I witnessed a soccer dad who locked himself out of the car, was attacked by a bee, and then was thrown up on by his baby. And it wasn't even our soccer Dad. Otherwise, it's business as usual.

Toni

Cierah's week (part deux)

Now where was I? Oh yeah, Cierah's bad week, part deux. As I stated at the end of Cierah's bad week part one, have you ever had a 'copter wound up in your hair? Well, Linda Z did. Linda was the youngest child next door in the neighborhood where I spent the first 7 years of my life. When Linda was just a toddler, she got her hands on a toy helicopter that belonged to one of her four rambunctious brothers (oh, and there was also a much older sister in the bunch, and all six kids grew up in a small three bedroom raised ranch; that couldn't have been a good thing for six siblings that were already a major handful on any given day.)

One day, Linda's mom urgently summoned my mom to "Come quick" because, "Arrrrgh! Linda got Robby's helicopter all wound up in her hair. You have to help me." When my mom arrived on the scene, little Linda indeed had a chopper in her locks. And I mean down to the dermal layer. And the thing is, Linda's mom wasn't always the sharpest tool in the shed, so did she think to turn the motorized 'copter off before summoning help? Oh. No. She. Didn't. So my mom found Linda sitting there in tears, the 'copter going reeeeearrr-reeeeeearrr as it continually tried to encircle her head. Poor Linda lost her crop that day when my mom had to cut her free. And I'm pretty sure that was the beginning of my Mom's vision of attending cosmetology school (which, btw, she accomplished and then taught it for 20 years, then owned her own shop for another 15 or so).

So, what does the great 'copter incident of '72 have to do with my Cierah?
Um,...
well,...
Probably this! Nice bling, eh?






















Oh. Yes. She. Did. Too.
And she wouldn't even talk to me. She just stood there resigned and defeated, telling me she tried to drive Reece's friction driven car across her head (sigh). And so, after several serious attempts at performing a primitive friction-toy-ectomy, we had to make the more difficult decision to bring in surgical tools, a.k.a. the scissors! Snip snip and her joy returned (as evidenced below).

Toni

Cierah's week (part 1)

My Cierah had a baaaaad week. Now generally speaking, you wouldn't think of four year olds as having any real shot at bad weeks, what with all the adults taking dibs on them. But I assure you, hers has not been the dandiest. A little recap music, mistro!

Several days ago, we enjoyed a visit to some nearby falls. The kids like to toss branches into the river and watch them ride over the edge and plunge into the depths below. While they were searching for branches, I happened upon an even better toss,...WALNUTS! Seriously, how fun would it be to wing walnuts into the river and watch those little green spheres bob along with the current, then to try to spot them again below?

"Hey, kids! Mommy found walnuts over here. Look! We can throw these in and they're here for the taking."

Pitter patter they came, hauling away as many walnuts as their little arms could carry. Cierah was having a bit of trouble with hers though, because, well, when you're four, it's two walnuts forward and one walnut back as you attempt to collect them. After many rounds of pick one up, drop two, she finally said, "I'm jis' gonna git one mow, momma."

And so she did. Only,....what's that???
My eyes were mesmerized by some morphing shape of something that my brain just couldn't identify. You know how you spot something, perhaps in the distance, and you think, 'what in the world am I seeing?' (Carl calls that Toni's World, that special place where I see all kinds of things that others miss, like tree stumps identified as bunnies or white garbage bags appearing as albino foxes, but we'll not venture there today. Besides, my Lasik surgery has helped tremendously in that regard. Well okay, that and sleep.)

So anyhoo, when Cierah had picked up her last walnut, I saw this, this...thing. A morphing, moving something. My mind was singing Things That Make You Go, "Hmmm?" when all of a sudden it clicked. BEES! Bees were pouring out of a hole in the ground where Cierah had picked up her last walnut. They literally poured out as lava from an erupting volcano. And they weren't happy.

With great urgency, "BEES! RUUUUUUUN!"
Reece had been within a foot or two of Cierah when the little terrors began their angry outpouring so I had not one but two littles to protect. Of all times to have to put our obedience training to the test, this was it.

I want interject here that the Indy 500 has a pace car. And greyhound races have a rabbit. It seems the best races are run only when there is some lead to set the proper pace. Thus it's only fitting that I lead them away from those angry insects by demonstrating what "fast" looks like. PACE MOM! Who knew?

I know, I KNOW! I should have scooped a child up under each arm like a competitor in a strong man competition, but as you know, insects and I don't get along. I wasn't thinking that clearly. But I sure did show them how to haul out of there. Oh yes I did. And I'm sure the wind current I generated as I sprinted by created some thrust to move them along.

Minutes later, we were all a safe distance away from the angry mob and thus began our walnut launch. The kids had a blast taking turns, first tossing then watching as they cleared the falls. When Cierah exhausted her supply, she asked for one of mine.
"Sure, honey. Momma's just going to crack one open first to see what's inside."
Her response made the hair on my head stand on end, as she let out a blood curdling scream that concerned and bewildered the entire family.
"What? What? Cierah, honey, WHAT..IS..WRONG?????"
After several attempts at telling us between hysterics, she finally got one intelligible word out. "BEES!"

She was holding her armpit at this point so Carl began yanking her shirt off at the same time that I was barking orders for him to do so (truth be told, I was terrified at what we might find.) And sure enough, a bee fell out of her shirt.
And my poor Cierah had been stung in the armpit.
Twice.
And she fears bugs as much as I do.
And she's only four.
And I was wondering who had the Epi pen because, while I was concerned over whether she might experience an allergic reaction, it was I who was having trouble breathing at that point (due to the willies I had over a bee being under her shirt).


When it was all said and done, Carl was making jokes about how best to encourage me "next time" (as if), things like, "Run faster! They've got a taste for flesh!" And we had to buy Cierah a banana milkshake to cheer her up after her awful encounter with ground dwelling bees. I'd have had one myself, but the thought of anything yellow at that point was entirely too traumatic for me. I didn't need all those milkshake calories anyways.
I opted for a Reese's Cup instead.

Tune in next time for the conclusion of Cierah's Week, Part Deux. Ever wind a 'copter in your locks? The saga continues.

Toni

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen completely non-related things about Toni that won't awe you or amaze you I was married here. This is not a wedding shot, but my dear parents are in the fifth row, left side, sitting by the aisle (mom's hair looks white in photo). Carl and I had this beach all to ourselves for 3 hours. It's on the island of St. John. Our cruise ship dropped us off just after 7am and we didn't have to share this incredible beauty until 10:30am. Priceless. Isn't it beautiful? The town hall in the country town we lived in before moving to IN. One of my favorite restaurants back home. It overlooks Lake Erie and the Cleveland city skyline. It's been revamped and (IMHO) has lost much of its former charm, but I will always remember it as it was. Please don't hate me because I drove a 'Vette. We can't all be so blessed. That car took me from OH to CA, then to PA, then back to OH before taking hubs to NC and back. She ran forever on a dollar of gas and a little sweet talk (same color as this one too). And yes, I loved the Audio Adrenaline song My Chevette. This was a very common sight out my front bow window in Ohio (both the buggy and the barren cornfield across the road). How I miss it (though it deeply troubles me that Amish children do not have the same level of protection from abuse and neglect that children in the greater society do). I competed in gymnastics as a child. Thus, once a fan... ...always a fan (and besides, she's married to former U.S. Olympian Bart Connor so she scores points with me there as well.) I'll be seeing it ("Six Sisters") up close and personal in a few weeks (again, that is; I used to live there). Because Indiana has such gems. Gone fishing! (All summer long, which really drives home the importance of having a pond in our back yard) My little monster man. Some really can blame it on rocks in their head. The otolith (ear bone) of a Sheephead fish (a.k.a. Freshwater Drum). Notice the upside down "L" shape on the left half. That's why it's called a "lucky" stone (though if you had a "stone" dug out of your head, how lucky would you feel?) I thought this was quite the gem as a child.

Visit other "thirteeners" here!

Toni

WORDLESS WEDNESDAY

This image was taken by moi a few days ago. Look closely at upper left quad. Find the long light spot and study it carefully. Do you see facial features? The long light spot is the bridge of the nose and a very obvious darker eye becomes clear to its left. No, don't believe the faces of dead ancestors appear in the clouds, but I could claim it's Elvis and make a b'zillion dollars off of some Ebay millionaire who has nothing better to do with his/her moola. For other Wordless Wednesdays, go here.

Toni

This lil' gem just cracks me up

I know some of you have heard this, but it's so stinkin' funny I just had to post it.

Three old ladies are sitting in a diner, chatting about various things.

One lady says, "You know, I'm getting really forgetful. This morning, I was standing at the top of the stairs, and I couldn't remember whether I had just come up or was about to go down."

The second lady says, "You think that's bad? The other day, I was sitting on the edge of my bed, and I couldn't remember whether I was going to bed or had just woken up!"

The third lady smiles smugly. "Well, my memory's just as good as it's always been, knock on wood." She raps the table. With a startled look on her face, she asks, "Who's there?"

Toni

If You Give a Gal A Training Class (She'll Probably Want a Map To Go With It)

I was sitting in 8 hours of training today. That barely gets me out of the gate. Don't ask (just don't), because I'm not sure why either, other than being motivated by the fact that this is a big hoop we are suddenly being required to jump through by the state to finalize our adoption (we just found out three days ago.)

I got lost on the way, naturally. Mapquest showed that I could get off the highway just 2 miles from my training class. Only, that particular exit was closed due to construction. Which naturally required me to drive a good four or five miles to the next open exit, turn around and make my way back to my desired mark. Nothing like a good map (Miss Teen South Carolina was right after all; we apparently don't have maps in America.)

And the building was not all that easy to spot anyway. If only they had told me it was just down the road from Put The Swagger Back in Your Step barber shop (no, I'm not kidding about the name; it was painted in Tom Sawyer boyhood font on a very large piece of particle board that had the carved look of intricate beaver handiwork).

On a grounded note, I was reminded today that America needs committed foster and foster/adoptive parents. Have you ever considered it? We were licensed for five years in our former state. We do hope to get involved again in the future as well. If you've ever thought about it, I would encourage you to request some basic information from your local child protective service agency. I would also be happy to answer any questions you might have to the best of my ability. It really is one of the most intense and personal ways to impact the community in which you live.
http://www.fosterparenting.com/

Toni

There's more than books at your local library.

My Liv had history club at the library today. While we waited for her, I took my littles over to the children's section to play Legos and puzzles. A cute little towhead, I'll call him Little Johnny, showed up moments later, chuck full-o-chicken pox. And I mean a BAD outbreak (bandaids in multiple places). He was all over the Lego blocks and I was all over my kids.

Me: "Reece, C, let's go. Momma's gonna read you a little story over there."
Reece: "Where?"
Me:(with restrained urgency) "Oh, over there."
Reece: (still playing) "Where, momma?"
Me: (realizing Johnny's mom was aware of my growing discomfort) "Over there, now C'MON!!!"
And we headed over "there",...to the other side of the library. Beyond the adult section. And through the double doors just for good measure.

Now you can tell me scabbed Chicken Pox aren't contagious 'till you're three shades of sky blue pink, but I was an R.N. and the fact is, a child can be contagious until one week after the last new spot has scabbed over. And how in thee world am I supposed to know when Johnny did his best scabbing? I mean really. Of course, my children are vaccinated. And yes, I immediately hauled them away like two snitches in the witness protection program. But Johnny's mom,...what was this woman thinking?
"C'mon, Johnny. We're going to take you in all your pockiness and plant you front and center in the middle of the children's section at our local library." I tell you, it's the most brief lego encounter my children have ever had.

And naturally we couldn't get out of there without some kind of mishap. We were nearly home free too, but then it happened. Right up front at the double doors. Edna Mae, the 80 something volunteer, dropped an 8 foot folding table right on her foot. OUCH! I tried to go over to her but Edna Mae was mad. She turned her back on me right quick, and when the equally 80 something Ethel Louise tried to show concern for Edna's throbbing foot, she fired, "That hurt. Thaaaat hurt bad. I dropped that huge table on my foot. That's it. I just need to stop right now and go home."

God bless Edna Mae. I have no idea why she felt she had the strumpf to lift an 8 foot folding table all by her lonesome, but it backfired (somewhat literally) and she was none too willing to accept any comfort for her toe woe.

Oh, and one more library guffaw. Olivia stepped outside yesterday with our librarian (different library than Pox Row) to free some butterflies that had emerged from their chrysalis (chrysalises? chrysalai? Aw, where's that grammar check feature when I need it?) One of the butterflies landed on her, which thrilled Olivia to no end. She filled me in on the specifics of her adventure, noting, "They were New York butterflies, Mom." Now, how she knew this, I wasn't sure. Looked like your run of the mill Indiana butterflies to me. But hey, I'm not all bug wise. Then it hit me. My little Bunker struck again.
New York butterflies.
Monarch butterflies.
It's all good.

Toni

Thursday Thirteen

Thirteen Things I've witnessed a neighbor doing (a.k.a. Things that make you go "Hmmm.") 1. I heard a little girl screaming in the adjoining yard of our first home. I looked out my second floor window to see a troubled 4 year old, "Little Larry" (pronounced Lurr-uh with a heavy dose of southern draw by my neighbors), chasing his 5 year old sister through the back yard with a huge pair of very rusty shears. I, rather firmly, "Larry!!! You. Stop. That. This. Instance. Take those scissors to your grandpa before I come over there and tell him what I just saw you doing." It was then that I realized how special I was to Little Lurrah. I mean, when someone shoots you the "Number One" sign, you've gotta be tops, right? (yes, a FIVE year old did this. And yes, I give full credit to Big Doofus for teaching me that Little Lurrah only meant to show me "number one" love.) And he immediately showed respect for my authority as well because he did ditch those reckless scissors. By burying them in the dirt under the house. And the thought of him returning to fetch his weapon scissors to chase after his sister again was disturbing. But when he turned and looked at me like Jack Nicholson, I couldn't sleep for days. 2. Our camping neighbor, "B", built himself a beautiful blazing fire. Thing is, he had quite a potential "spark" to light it, what with all the major lightning bolts striking nearby at the time. 3. Country neighbor Michelle was afraid of her lawn tractor. She did have to live up to the tractor skills of Julie (my other country neighbor) and myself. We were John Deere darlings who LOVED to mow our 3.5 acre lawns. But Michelle, well...wimp! One day, I heard hysterical screaming. I looked out back and you'da thought she was riding her first horse. She was banschee screaming, legs were flyin', and she was (of all things) worried she would run over her foo-foo dog during her maiden ride. Yep, she finally joined the ranks of country wives on riding tractors. I'd like to think Julie and I pressured her taught her how, lol. 4. Little Aaron Michael snuck up ever so quietly on flighty neighbor Steve and and then abruptly inquired, "What'cha doin'?" Scared the daylights out of Steve, which is significant seeing as he had a spinning circular saw in hand at the time (and, after all, little Aaron Michael was the neighborhood pest). 5.Neighbor Sherri came over to chat with us in our back yard. At the time, Carl and I had no children and our "baby" was our Chocolate Lab, Duchess. She was as sweet a could be, but she regularly turned our backyard into a field of fertilizer. And neighbor Sherri was unaware of this fact when she decided to make a game of "run with the big dogs" through our landmine of mud biscuits. Carl and I both said later that it was like watching a movie in SUPER. SLOW. MOTION. "No-o-o-o-o-o-o-oooo!" As we yelled in freeze frame slow motion, Sherri jumped, hopped and screamed her way through the obstacle course of dog piles. And then it happened as we soooo knew it would. Duchess pulled her classic tangle maneuver and cut Sherri off on the back nine, sending her air bound to avoid the collision. Talk about your slow motion, it seemed like an eternity before any part of her body made contact with the ground again. Like a linebacker on a football field, she went UP and then DOwn. BAMM! She landed on her back in the middle of log land. I didn't know if to burst out laughing (believing she just landed in a pile or two) or crying (knowing she was going to be soooo mad when she found herself covered in poo). And I didn't DARE look at Carl, nor he at I. Now you tell me. Just exactly how does one keep a straight face when the neighbor lady just ran through your dog doo, FELL on her back in the middle of it, and is now seriously inquiring, "Do I have dog (expletive) on my back?" BAHAHAHAHAHA! Carl and I cried tears of funny for days over that one And no, she didn't encounter a single bomb. What were the chances? 6. Dave (who dated Sherri of dog doo) had issues. One time, a lady came up our drive and told us her 85yo mother's house had been broken into. Grannie lived 2 doors down from us, with Dave in the middle. She said the burglars had ransacked her house, stole coins and all her moose meat from the basement (yes sirree, you read that right. Say it. It's fun! Moose meat.) The daughter wanted Dave to know since it happened right next door to him, but he wasn't home so she asked us to relay the message. Dh told Dave that evening when he got home. "Dave, there's been a break in. Grannie's been robbed and the moose meat is A.W.O.L." "I know. My kid did it." GULP! (pause) Alrighty then. You have yourself a good evening now." 7. Dave (of Sherri poo and missing moose meat) also liked to hang out in his shorts. His gray shorts. His "don't wish to see those" gray shorts. His "I used to be white but now I'm dingy gray" shorts. I went to close the blinds in our window one night and there he was, in all his beer belly splendor (ick, ick, iiiiick). 8. This one is something I witnessed a neighbor doing, thanks to something my little brother did. Neighbor's house was on fire. It was 4am. My little brother always went to bed early and slept hard. So he wasn't the best candidate to answer a strange knock at the door at 4am. "Mom, there's a naked man at our front door." My parents verified that, yes, Mr. H was there in his undies, screaming that his house was on fire. My mom directed my brother to get Mr. H a blanket to cover with, while she called the fire department and my dad tried to find out of Mr. H's wife was home. A few minutes later, we all huddled on the drive in front of Mr. H's house waiting for the fire department to arrive. It was then that I realized he was standing there in a Mickey Mouse blanket, courtesy of my little brother. 9. Our Asian neighbors just held a wedding at their house. It was sooo neat to see how their culture did this. 10. My 13yo neighbor (who had some "issues") broke our vinyl fence by using it as a backdrop to wildly kick his soccer ball into. He didn't try to do this discreetly or anonymously. He simply had no sense of wrong or respect. However, this same neighbor showed up and offered to help me shovel my drive after a major snowfall (then again too, I witnessed him scrubbing and power spraying another neighbor's sidewalk after he used spray paint to deface the sidewalk in front of their home.) I'd be lying if I said I was sad he moved this past Spring. 11. I'm all for cleaning up after Rover. But "L" routinely walked through her yard with a plastic grocery bag and a hand held trowel. Um,...I don't think so! 12. Is there a sound regularly heard in your neighborhood? You know, like a bus that passes through the same time each morning or a guy who always mows his grass on Saturday morning at 8:00am? Well, in my childhood home we had such a sound. It was delightfully tacky yet incredibly smooth in delivery. It was the sound of Bob (think Elvis, the later years) whistling for his six chillins. And I mean he knew how to play a mean 4-fingered bagpipe. That sound made dogs cry. It scared the be jibbies out of me. Bob scared the bejibbies out of me for that matter. 13. Every morning at 7:45am, I get to witness a carpooler pulling into my Asian neighbor's drive and beeping the horn. Let's count those beeps, shall we? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9....intermission,....10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 and occasionally another 2 or 3 for good measure. In rapid succession. Relentless. I'm gonna pop!

Visit other "thirteeners" here!

Toni

Wordless Wednesday

There are no words!
For clarification, the camper was literally attached to the front of the house.
For other Wordless Wednesday photos, go here.

Toni

And the lead paint rant continues.

She's so not done. Olivia clearly has much more to say on the issue of lead paint. And I'm completely smacking myself in the forehead for not photocopying part of her letter (because it would have been so much better if you saw it with your own eyes). But since I boogered up and let her seal it in the envelope before thinking to scan it, I'll have to give you the transcript version.

Today in homeschool, Olivia was scheduled for writing. She chose to write back to her penpal in Hawaii (isn't that so cool? A penpal on an island!) So, she got to work, feverishly writing and drawing her heart out before bringing her letter to me for proof reading. And I had to bite my lip to keep a straight face when I read a part of it that went something like this;

Do you have Polly Pockets? Get rid of them. Fox News says they have poison in them. The Chinese have been painting them with led (misspell intended).

Now, to help her understand Mattel's role in this mess.....sigh. And all we had to worry about was getting burned on our Easy Bake light bulbs or getting cut with the edge of a metal toy.

Toni

ANACONDA!

Okay, then. You all know my Olivia has a bit of the Bunker in her, yes? So it should come as no surprise to you that she was thrilled to be starting "Anaconda" this week. You knoooow,...Ana-conda. Don't tell me you haven't heard of Anaconda. Thousands of parents all across this great nation are sending their children off to Anaconda this time of year. They memorize scripture, learn to share the Gospel, and earn patches and awards for their hard work. Whaa'sat? It's not Anaconda? Ana-what? Oh. OooOOoh. Maybe you can share that with Olivia then, because she sure does think AWANA is called Anaconda.

Anyway, Anaconda AWANA started tonight. The kids were so excited to go, and Carl and I were excited for 90 minutes to ourselves. Win-win. We decided to eat at Chipotle. Carl was busy giving Brandon his bottle, so he asked if I would get some iced tea refills. No problem. Off I went with cups in hand.

WARNING: YOU'RE ABOUT TO ENTER.......THE TONI ZONE! (Da-da, da-da. Da-da, da-da).

So I get up to the fill station (drink house, whatever you prefer to call it) and there's this guy, this bitty little man of a guy there, clearly dealing with a bit of O.C.D. as he feverishly cleaned up the tiniest spot of pop he had splashed on the counter during his full up. I watched him with great interest as he used a lone napkin to polish the stainless steel, noting he was just a bit too concerned about the "mess" he had made.

Enter, Toni!

He stepped aside and I stepped forward to add some ice to our cups before refilling. Cup one, full up with iced tea. Cup two, full up as well. But, sheesh, you know how some people just have all the luck? As I set my jug-o-teas aside to get some new lids, POW! I hit cup two with my big paw (stop laughing; of course it spilled all over) and just where did it spill? Well, naturally it flowed directly in bitty man's direction. In all of two seconds, his bowl was floating in a river of Nestea.

Excuse me while I hold back the fit of laughter because folks, you have no idea how clumsy I can be when it comes to spilling food and drink. It's a gift. I grabbed a mile high stack of napkins and tried to sop up the evidence. And the floor quickly became fly paper, sticking other patrons to it like all get out. And I looked like a bit of the Bunker myself (Edith, to be precise) as I tried to wipe up the floor with my stack of napkins. I might add that it's mop time at the ol' Chipotle, and not just because of my iced tea (hey, it feels better if I let the restaurant share the blame for their dirty floor, okay?)

Oh, and I made a big faux paux, too. In my sheer panic (and knowing a lone napkin couldn't even begin to soak the mess *I* had made), I did the worst thing a person could possibly do to a bitty man with OCD.

I.

Picked.

Up.

His.

Bowl.

GASP!!!
Yes, folks. In my flustered state, I put my paws on his um, "sterile" bowl of food (and I know it was sterile because, after all, those workers wear latex gloves for food prep.) And he tried to smile and make nice (while his face told me he clearly cursed the day I was born). But as we left, he and his significant other gave me "the look." You know, down the nose with upper lip curled like they smelled a bad wind or something.

Meanwhile, back at AWANA, Cierah carried six coins around the entire time. They were her weekly dues and she didn't realize there was a place to deposit them so she just clutched them in her grubby little hand the entire time. And Reece cried because he didn't get candy in his class. I'm sure glad he was focused on what counts (can't you hear the lecture now? "Son, we're not here for the sugar.")

And while this has nothing to do with our evening, I want to share one funny from our first homeschool week. Olivia and I were discussing the history of maps and map making. I shared that the Polynesians made primitive maps of reeds and shells.
I then stated that the Chinese painted maps on silk cloth. Liv, having apparently seen one too many reports about Mattel, quickly responded in frustration, "Yeah, and I'm sure it was lead paint too."

Toni