Chummie

Many of my children have been quite easy to potty train. For example, when I potty trained Alexander through the night, this is how it went:

"Buddy, we're going to put you to bed in your underwear today. No more diapers, okay?"

"Okay."

And...uhhhh...that was...that. Super easy. 

The kid never wet the bed.

Some of my kids have been a bit more of a challenge. For example, Benjamin. We eventually bought a "chummie," taking the advice of my good friend Bridget. Unfortunately for Benjamin it took ages to train him through the night (and the day), even with the chummie and every other trick in the book.

The chummie has sat in a box, waiting to see if it might be useful again, for several years now.

Because the good news is that most kids reach most milestones...eventually. And even though potty training Benjamin was a monumental task...it happened.

So, yes. Rachel and Miriam were easy. Benjamin was a challenge. Zoë and Alexander were easy. And Phoebe...has been a challenge. 

She took to daytime potty training so nicely that I thought for sure she'd be a breeze overnight. 

I was wrong. We have been working on overnight training for nearly two years. Casually—I mean, we wanted to let her be "ready" for it, but most of my kids (see list above) were potty trained over night before, by or around age 2. 

Phoebe is rapidly approaching 4. 

And I've been changing diapers for 18 years...I'm over it. So ready or not...it needs to happen at this point.

The thing about Phoebe is that she is much more timid than Benjamin ever has been. The vacuum still scares her. She can't stand the thought of gross things (she almost threw up when Andrew showed her a squished bug the other day and after she poops she flushes the toilet while she's sitting on it...before calling out to anyone to help her wipe...so she doesn't have to sit there thinking about what's underneath her). And she hates alarms—fire alarms, sirens, timers. 

The chummie is a bed-wetting alarm. 

I brought it out and showed her how it works (if it gets wet...the alarm sounds) and she started crying, "I don't want to wear that!" 

So the first night we just set it out by her bed, with the threat of having to wear it. For a minute I thought the threat of having to wear it would be enough to potty train her because she didn't wet the bed that first night (though I did wake her up in the middle of the night to go potty...in sympathy (wait—no, it was because Andrew put it on wrong (on her bare skin) and it was detecting her sweat and went off...that's what happened...so I took her potty anyway). The next night...she did. So the third night she had to wear the chummie. 

It is very effective at waking her up. 

The first time it went off she ran out of her room in a panic. I helped her turn off the alarm and sat her on the potty (she had the tiniest little bit of pee in her underwear, which the chummie detected). And her level of panic at the alarm has remained high. 

We've talked about how it's helping her train her brain to respond to her bladder. When the alarm goes off her brain gets the message to STOP and make a choice: get up to go potty or hold it until the morning. 

The other night she didn't come running out of her bedroom at the sound of the alarm. I went to find her and she was rocking in her bed with her hands clamped over her head, chanting, "No! No! No! No! No!"

"Come on, Phoebe," I said. "The alarm is going off. That means you need to get up to go potty."

"No!" she said. "I choose hold it until morning!"

"Alas," I said. "You still have to get up so we can change your underwear and reset the chummie, so you may as well go potty. If you want to choose to hold it until the morning you can't let any pee slip out."

So, that's what we did. 

But last night—the alarm didn't go off a single time! 

Phoebe woke me up at 6:30 am to ask if I could help her go potty—she'd held it until the morning!

"Barely," I thought (a little sad about being robbed from my last little while of sleep before my own alarm clock went off, especially after sleeping with one ear open, listening for her chummie through the night).

I'm really hopeful that we're almost to the end. She's been wearing the chummie and underwear to bed for about a week and has made many improvements.

Benjamin might just keep his title of Most Difficult to Potty Train (because he'd just sleep through the chummie and would wet the bed entirely in spite of the alarm, which Phoebe so far hasn't done). 

Here's hoping! 

SPCH THRPY: Bat, Back, and Spot

Phoebe doesn't love "blends," so in addition to helping her figure out how to say /k/ we've also begun working on things like /sp/ and /sl/ and /st/ and things like that. I mean, there are several things she can't say properly (although properly is something she can say properly and she will tell you, "I tan't say dat properly), but those are the things we're targeting for now. 

She loves puppies, so I've been using Dick and Jane books to give us plenty of opportunity to say the word "Spot," since that is the name of their puppy. 

When we started on this particular project (just recently—we added it because she figured out /k/), she would always say, "Sot" instead of "spot." So we practiced saying "pot" and then "s" and then sssssss...pot and then put everything together. 

"Sput," Phoebe said. 

And I thought, "You know what? That's great! She's got the /sp/ and we can work on adding the vowel later."

Voicemail

Going through old voicemails from Grandpa Frank made me wish (1) that I had answered my phone less often so that I could have more of these gems (because believe it or not I do answer my phone sometimes), and (2) that I was brave enough to leave messages as charming as Grandpa Frank's always are.

Mattress coils

When we exchanged Phoebe and Zoë's old bunk bed for Benjamin's new loft bed, we were left with a couple of old mattresses on our hands (because Benjamin's new bed frame is a full not a twin). They were rather inexpensive mattresses in the first place, so were never very comfortable, but various children have used them for...at least 13 years...so they'd...been through some...stuff. 

I won't list all the bodily fluids they encountered. And, I mean, we used mattress covers...but they got gross anyway. 

I don't really blame anyone for not wanting them. 

But—goodness sakes!—do you know how much it costs to dispose of a mattress?

Luckily, I know a guy!

Highercase and Lowercase

The other day Phoebe wanted to ask if she could play Minecraft. 

We use acronyms for everything in our house—to talk about what shows we want to watch (for example, DW means Doctor Who), to talk about our Favourite Part of the Day (FPOD), to announce that it's leftover night (YOYO—you're on your own). If something isn't an acronym, we make it an acronym just for fun. 

So in order to ask if she could play Minecraft, Phoebe put together the letters "MC" on the fridge and pulled Andrew over to ask if she could "play MC."

Love and bebove

Poor Phoebe does not get along well with the little neighbour girl her age, and by "not get along well" I mean that [Child] has simply had a vendetta against Phoebe since they were crawling. I honestly don't know why. Sometimes they'll play quite nicely together (especially if grown ups are mediating), but often they simply don't. 

Literally the first full sentence I heard [Child] speak was to Phoebe and it was, "You're not my best friend! Haha! You're not my best friend! Haha!"

Now that they're older, she's constantly spewing out things like: "If you don't ______ then you're not my friend," and "I don't like you," and "You can't play with me," and "No Phoebes allowed."

And I'm honestly not sure why she's like that because...her parents aren't like that (and don't like that behaviour). And, again, Phoebe has done nothing particular to warrant this treatment because this profound dislike has been going on since they were barely toddling around. But, nonetheless, that's where we're at. (I honestly would check in at her daycare to see whether she's being bullied there and is passing it along to Phoebe, but...that's just my gut.)

Today Phoebe was playing outside with her siblings and another neighbour, but when [Child] came outside to play, Phoebe came inside to play.

"Don't you want to play outside with the other kids?" I asked her.

"No, thanks," she said. "[Child] doesn't like me. I'd rather play inside where everybody loves me."

Obviously this is a problem that will eventually need to be solved somehow, because it isn't fair for Phoebe to have to hide away inside so that [Child] won't say mean things to her. But it's nice that home is where she feels safe. 

*****

On another note, we were playing Magnatiles together ("Mom, I love spending time with you!" she told me...probably to coax me into playing with her longer...and it worked) and I was reminded of another funny thing Phoebe says consistently: bebove. 

Bebove is the opposite of below or beneath. 

So if you were to swim down to the very bobbom of the pool, you would have a lot of water bebove you.

I think it's rather cute!

Here and there

Our homeschool "not-back-to-school" party drew a pretty small crowd this year, perhaps in part because of how "chilly" it's been. The little hint of autumn didn't stop us from enjoying the pool, however! It was good to see so many of our friends—and to get to meet a few new families. 

DOI

I submitted our "declaration of intent to homeschool" (DOI) the other day and was surprised—as I was filing it away—to realize there's a long list of DOIs in my DOI folder...

Strangely I seem to have moved from being a homeschooling newbie to being somewhat of a veteran homeschool educator. I'm not quite sure how that happened because I still feel like I have no idea what I'm doing and am just figuring things out one day at a time.

But, I mean, I didn't hesitate or cry or get all queasy when I pushed the submit button (which was not the case in 2019) so I must be making progress (or at least gaining confidence) as a homeschool educator. 

And Rachel graduated and is starting college...so we didn't mess her plans up too badly.

I went from two homeschooled students in 2019 (Benjamin and Miriam) to four homeschooled students in 2020 (Rachel, Miriam, Benjamin, and Zoë). In 2023 we officially had five homeschooled students when Alexander joined everyone as a kindergarten student. Now we're back down to four students and that's the most I'll ever have at one time from here on out, which is probably plenty.

Technically Phoebe is doing pre-K stuff this year, but she's not "on the record" yet (and won't be until after Miriam graduates).

(Submitting an annual DOI is one of few requirements for homeschooling in Georgia, and it is necessary for certain things—like for a child to get a driver's license, and so forth.)

A few things Phoebe has said lately:

Phoebe: Do you remember how I broke Miriam's arm by this fence?

Me: Yes, but please explain. 
Phoebe: I rode into her with my tricycle and tripped her right over, remember?

Me: You did do that. 
Phoebe: That was miles and miles ago.

Me: It was...a long time ago...comparative to your age...yes.

Andrew: Alright, you guys are sleeping in your new room tonight!

Phoebe (shrieking): WITH ALL THESE WEAPONS?!

Andrew: Those aren't weapons. Those are...tools. And we'll move them out before we put you to bed.

Phoebe: *mutters to herself about how unconscionable it is to put a baby to bed in a room full of weapons*

(We've been calling our little pile of tools our "armory" ever since, but Andrew just put everything away in the ultimate armory—the garage).

Phoebe: I am so excited to go to the pool again for the party that I'm invited to this time.*

Me: Oh, so am I.

Phoebe: I will just throw my sinky toys in and they will sink to the bobbom of the pool and then I will swim to the bobbom and grab them up. But I won't throw them in the deep end because I can't touch the bobbom there. So I will throw them in the shallow end. But when I'm big enough to touch the bobbom of the deep end I will throw my sinky toys in the deep end and get them from the very bobbom. 

Me: That sounds like a good plan.

* We're having our "not-back-to-school" homeschool party tomorrow. It was supposed to be on Monday when the public school kids went back, but it was like 65°F and raining so we postponed. For the record, she's been trying to touch the bottom of the deep end for weeks now. I hate it when she tries because she's not great at getting up for air in the first place and ten feet is a long way to go for a little girl (twenty feet if you count coming back up again, which Alexander does). But, as she said, she's never made it down that far yet.

Phoebe: Aw, man! Why is this Benjamin's blanket and not mine?

Me: Because...that's his baby blanket. He got it when he was a baby.

Phoebe: But it has a monkey on it and I love it. Can I have it?

Me: No. It's Benjamin's.

Phoebe: But he's not a baby anymore. 

Me: It still belongs to him.

Phoebe: What if we ask him if I can have it? And if he says yes, then...good...and if he says no then...*sigh*...I will be okay.

Me: How about...it's Benjamin's?

Phoebe: FINE-uh.

The kids in Utah

At this time last week we were either all weeping as we drove home in the rain...or were off to Kroger to do a snack run for a long road trip. 

The older kids have now been gone for a week and their whirlwind trip to Utah is just about over. Tomorrow is their last full day there (except for Rachel, who will be there for longer). 

Miriam has been enjoying her time at the organ workshop. She had a private lesson with Joseph Peeples (a tabernacle organist), which I assume went well. My mom went with her to that (because Miriam is a minor she was required to have an adult present at her private lesson).

Forced Perspective Photo Shoot

Today on Facebook a memory from five years ago popped up, a memory that I apparently didn't ever get around to blogging about. It must have been near the beginning of the school year, still at the beginning of the pandemic, and we did a little photo shoot playing with forced perspective. 

Here's Zoë holding up Benjamin and Miriam:

If you give a parent a paintbrush...

They'll* run to the store to grab just the shade of grey you wanted. To be safe—they'll grab two cans! 

Nonrefundable, of course (because once you tint it, it's yours).

Then they'll* decide they need some white paint to redo the trim. They'll* quickly grab a can and then rush home. 

When they've finished painting the room grey, they'll** realize they have 1.25 cans leftover. That will start them*** thinking about what else they could possibly paint that same colour. 

But they** still have the trim to paint, so they'll** break out the white paint and get to work. 

When they're** finished painting, the parent* (who went to the store to get the paint but didn't help do any of the painting because they had to finish grading so they could submit grades by the deadline) will ask if the painting parent** can simply repaint the banister as well...since the paint is out. 

So they'll** paint the banister. And then they'll** rinse out their paintbrush.

Before and after

Benjamin's walls have successfully been transformed from a light grey and what-were-you-thinking purple... 

Room swapping

This morning Phoebe climbed into bed to snuggle. 

"Mommy, can you read me five-and-a-half stories?" she asked. 

"Five-and-a-half stories?" I repeated.

"Mommy, you're weird," she said. 

"You request five-and-a-half stories and I'm the one who's weird?"

"Yes. Every morning when I press my nose into your skin and sniff you...you smell so...weird."

"Oh. Well, thank you."

"You're welpum."

And then she squirmed out of the bed and picked five books from the shelf. We actually ended up getting through only four-and-a-half of them before she decided it was time for breakfast.

*****

Cancelled Primary Party

This morning we woke the kids up to get ready for the back-to-school primary party, but just as we'd all changed into our swimming suits...we got the message that it was cancelled—rather, postponed—due to thunder at the location.

But we hadn't heard any thunder at our location, so we decided that since we were all ready to go we'd head to the pool for a little while. We have a cold front—"False Fall," if you will—coming in and things are going to get mighty chilly, comparatively speaking. We have a high of 70°F tomorrow. Our windows are open right now. This is...weird. 

And it also means the pool will cool off significantly, so we thought we'd enjoy one last splash in the warm pool. And it was warm—it felt warmer inside the pool than it did outside this morning. 

We swam in the morning drizzle until a birthday party arrived. Technically you're not supposed to have birthday parties at the pool unless you go through the leadership and check a bunch of boxes. We'll assume this family did that. But they were also, like, eating popsicles in the pool which is technically speaking against the rules...and it got to be a little difficult for Phoebe to be there but not be part of the party (they have popsicles over there?! And music...and balloons...and...it was too much)...so we left. 

But before that we had a fun time swimming together. Zoë helped Phoebe work on her big arms:

Long live the sunscreen bottle!

As summer was winding down last year, the last full bottle of sunscreen got knocked from the counter and fell to the floor. The lid broke. In the most technical of terms: the little plug part simply shattered off the lid, remaining wedged in the little hole the sunscreen is supposed to squirt out of.  

Andrew wanted to throw it away, but I was like, "No way! It's still perfectly good inside!"

I tried to take off the entire lid so that I could perhaps squirt it into an old and more functional bottle, but that was an impossible task. So I moved to plan B. It took me quite a bit of time to pick out the little plug piece from the bottle the first time I did it, but I eventually managed it and triumphantly declared that it would be the first bottle we'd use this summer. 

We wouldn't use any other sunscreen until this stuff was gone...

Folks, we have finished off about five other bottles of sunscreen this summer (naturally).

No one ever wants to use this stuff unless I pull out the little plug and squirt it into their hands. The bottle has gotten a little...messy...over the course of the summer because the lid simply doesn't plug up as nicely as it might if it were, say, not broken. So it's lived in a ziplock bag in the pool bag (adding another layer of complication to self-application, further explaining why no one uses it unless I pull it out and force them to).

But I'm happy to announce that it is finally, finally (just about) empty. 

Any day now it will squirt its last squirt and we can retire it for good!

And we will all rejoice.

Saying goodbye to Rachel

Yesterday was a painful day of waiting. 

The day had come to say goodbye, but the hour was not yet at hand. So we just...went through all the motions of having a regular day...which was really anything but ordinary...and yet was entirely ordinary.

I convinced all the kids to come to the pool with me, in part so I could take our traditional "end of season" pool picture. Although it's not the end of the pool season yet, it is the end of an era:

(Zoë apparently taught Phoebe and Ireland to make peace signs in pictures, so they've both been trying to do it since.)

First day and last day at home with Rachel

A little over 18 years ago we brought our brand new baby girl home from the hospital. We placed her in her bassinet and...

Before a trip...

At our house, asking a child to do a chore somehow stimulates their bladder.

"I...have to go potty first!" they'll say.

And then I'll say something like, "Well, good thing I ask you to help out around the house, otherwise you'd never remember to go potty!"

*****

This is like that but it's like "good thing we send these kids on trips, otherwise we'd never take care of them."

I jest, of course...but this morning as we took Benjamin off to the doctor to finally fish a splinter out of his finger (that he got at YM camp the first week of June, wouldn't let me pull out, and assured me it would work its way out on its own...only to come to me the other day with a swollen, pussy finger...as if I'm the one who should have been keeping track of it all summer) so that it could be healing instead of festering while he's on his trip, I couldn't help laugh. 

We've taken Miriam to the urgent care twice before a big trip—once for a broken arm and once for an illness. 

It's not precisely that we plan these things, but it might seem like we only take them to urgent care immediately before sending them on a trip.

Here's Benjamin getting ready for exploratory...digging about:

Tip Toe Injury

I'm not saying that I'm better than everyone because I didn't get antibiotics, but I am going to say that whatever illness we had this summer was a doozy. And I didn't get antibiotics.

I was violently coughing for a month. But I didn't use antibiotics to help me get better.

I think antibiotics are useful—a miracle, even! 

When we put Alexander...and then Phoebe...on antibiotics for their double ear infections this summer they immediately (within 24 hours) started to feel better. And their ears cleared up. And they went back to being bright and happy children who could hear and everything. 

A miracle of modern medicine. 

Miriam got sick the same time I did, like...really sick. Everyone got sick in early June. But Miriam and I got really sick. And then everyone got better...except for Miriam and me. And we took Miriam to the doctor to see if she could get some help kicking this bug because she had her trip to the UK she wanted to be healthy for. They decided it sounded like a viral infection that had perhaps turned bacterial (I understand that a virus can't turn into a bacteria, but a bacterial infection is not uncommon to encounter after a viral infection), they put her on antibiotics...and she started feeling better. 

And then Phoebe and Alexander got really sick while the girls were in Europe, I believe. 

And then Rachel and Andrew got sick after they got back from Europe. Or Rachel did. And then Zoë and Benjamin got sick...right before their county meet. And then Andrew got sick. 

I don't remember when everyone got sick. I was a mess taking everyone (except Benjamin) to the doctor...one by one...as they fell like flies. 

"And when did their symptoms begin?"

"Right...so...let's see...it must have been...uhhhh..."

Look—I didn't know there'd be a quiz! 

(I have calendaring issues!)

All I knew is that we had been sick for forever. And that we waited so long to take Alexander and Phoebe in that the doctor gave me stink eye about them both having double ear infections (which aren't even contagious, but I think this virus just caused a lot of blockage in the sinus region that their little ears couldn't even handle—plus I don't even know why she was so miffed about it because we brought Phoebe and Alexander in together initially...and Alexander had visible infection in both ears and Phoebe had fluid—not infected—which turned into an ear infection over the weekend...so we ended up having to bring her in twice...which meant double the co-pay...). When Zoë started complaining about her ears I took her in right away—no infection. Whatever. 

And then Rachel eventually went in because she had had a bad sinus infection at the beginning of the year and the doctor was like, "Why did you wait so long to come in?"

And antibiotics helped her...but I think Andrew went in before Rachel so...

I'm not really clear on things. Benjamin got super sick and even threw up...but then got better really fast. 

And just when we thought everyone had been through it...Miriam got super sick again. 

That had me really worried that I was going to get sick again as well and I was was almost crying thinking about it because I had only just stopped coughing when she got sick a second time. But so far, so good. 

My whole theory is just that because I was so sick for so long, my body was creating a ton of antibodies so I had longer immunity to whatever this thing was...and Miriam (who had used outside help fighting this illness) caught it again when she was exposed to it because she didn't have to make as many antibodies herself. 

But I am not an immunologist, so I could have this all wrong.

Whatever the case, we're all mostly healthy. Andrew is still coughing a bit. 

And...I mentioned an adventure with the fire alarm the night before Zoë's county swim meet...well, let me briefly tell you that story: the fire alarm in our bedroom went off in the middle of the night.

These fire alarms are touchy. 

Say less

The other night I was talking to Andrew as he was brushing his teeth. 

I cannot even remember what I was talking about. But I said something that merited a response so he mumbled through his toothbrush something that sounded like, "Say less."

Now, taken literally, "say less" could be a polite (?) way of telling someone they're talking too much. 

This may have well been the case that evening. 

But, "say less" is also slang for "yes, absolutely, we're on the same page."

This may also have been the case that evening. 

But, "say less" isn't really something Andrew says very often because (1) he doesn't typically tell me to stop talking (he just endures it) and (2) he's a middle-aged man (sorry, but it's true) who doesn't use a lot of today's slang, so it wasn't very probable that he would say "say less" to me in conversation (unironically). 

I decided to wait until he had finished brushing to circle back on whatever it was I had needed a response about. He clarified his response. I cannot remember what it was (but he definitely agreed with me).

I think we were probably (maybe?) talking about swim team tryouts, come to think of it, because those are this week. And because I remember that we were trying to make a somewhat important decision...but I can't remember what decision it was because we successfully made it and got it squared away on the calendar. So I can't remember what it was...only that it was. 

Whatever it was—we handled it. Like the mature adults that we are.

Anyway, once we got his actual response squared away (and I put whatever we decided on the calendar so I could evidently completely block it from my actual brain), I told him, "At first I thought you said, 'Say less,' and I was like, 'Who do you think you are—my editor?'"

What a shock!

At three-and-a-half, Phoebe is still fronting all (or most) of her /k/ and /g/ sounds. 

I've been working with her, but she is...less easy...to work with than Alexander (who had the same problem). I showed him "One Cool Trick" (holding down the front of his tongue while he made /k/ sounds to prevent him from using the tip of his tongue to say /t/ instead) and he "Understood The Assignment" (that is, he voluntarily began to use his finger whenever he needed to say /k/). 

"I wanna bite!" he'd say. 

"You want a bite?" I'd repeat. 

"No! I wanna biiiiiiKe," he'd say, sticking his little finger on his tongue at just the right moment to make that /k/.

And then eventually we prompted him to say it without his finger in his mouth and—presto!—the boy had /t/ and /k/ figured out (and everyone could understand him much better). 

I've been trying this with Phoebe but she puts her finger in her mouth and then still uses the tip of her tongue to make a /t/ sound. And when I have her try it with my finger in her mouth she either gags or bites me, which is...neat.

We have been making slow progress and she even will sometimes naturally say /k/ in phrases like "Thank you." Really anything that has a /kju/ sound in the middle...she can say /k/ then. So I know it's possible for her to make that sound. 

But I am personally highly motivated to help her figure out at least that distinction by the time she has her next well-child visit because our doctor (1) does not really like the idea of homeschooling and (2) was super concerned that Phoebe's language is behind because she probably doesn't ever get to talk to anyone outside of our family and so we simply haven't noticed that's she's unintelligible. 

And I was like, "Weird, because objectively—as a linguist—I am zero percent worried about her speech at this point. And she actually does speak to people outside of our immediate family. And they do understand her (sometimes) and, honestly, compared to the other three-year-olds in her church class...she is rocking the whole language development scene."

And I'm just a little bit not interested in figuring out speech therapy...so I told the doctor we'd just work on it at home. Because I'm a linguist (because, well, I'm a linguist). 

And I fixed Alexander. What would be so different about Phoebe?

Well...the fact that she's...Phoebe. 

Phoebe is lovely, but she's got a little more...spunk...than Alexander had at that age. 

Not only will she gag or bite me—she'll flat out tell me no. 

(Weird, right?)

Pelican's in Georgia

It has been years since we've been to Pelican's!

We went on a family adventure on Thursday (which I will write about eventually) and there was a Pelican's right across the street! Who knew? 

Packing up for college

Rachel's room is just about packed up. She's got a pile of boxes/stuff to take to college, a pile of boxes/stuff to put in the storage room, and a suitcase to live out of for the next few days. 

The kids are all anxious about her leaving—excited to take over her space and scared about how much they're going to miss her.

Things are tense, but sometimes better when Andrew's working with her than when I am. When Andrew's down there he and Rachel and Miriam tend to laugh and joke. When I'm down there we all tend to break down sobbing together. 

It's fine. 

Vacuum packing things is incredible. We put Rachel's entire dresser in one bag and shrunk it down to a little slab of clothing. We put all of her bedding in another bag, sucked all the air out, and now it's completely portable. Same thing with her closet. 

Poison Ivy thoughts

This post is just to say that we're reading a book where the parents are, like, amazing zoo-running, animal-keeper, veterinarian-type people, who are so invested in their zoo and their creatures that they seem to neglect their own child.

In the scene we just read, the child describes how some workers in the zoo made a pile of brush—that included a fair amount of poison ivy—and when they burned the pile of brush the child came in contact with the smoke and started having a fairly intense allergic reaction.

His mother reached for the Benadryl, he tells readers, but then started thinking about all the animals that may have come in contact with the smoke, and ran off to sound the alarm and assemble all the animal caretakers to attend to their assigned creatures, leaving the poor little boy to measure and administer his own medicine. 

Poor boy.

But 'cept! 

Two beautiful moments to bookend my day

While I was still in bed this morning, Benjamin came into my room—dressed for working out—and asked me if I wanted to go for a run with him before the day got too hot. 

To think I used to have to bribe him to run with me!

Of course I had to say yes!

While we were out, I told him that soon he won't want to run with me because he'll think I'm too slow for him. But right now—in this moment—we make a good little team. 

It was still hot. And so humid—ridiculously humid. 

So we ran two miles. And chatted. And called it good. 

It was delightful.

*****

Phoebe just got out of bed a little while ago, all on her own.

I heard her jiggling the bathroom door, so I looked over (I can see the bathroom from my desk) and saw her standing there, fiddling with her pyjamas. 

I got up to help her and she held up her hand to stop me.

"I just can do it myself!" she whispered. 

Rachel's 18!

Last month the ward choir sang on my birthday and this month we sang on Rachel's birthday. That means that (1) we get to sing, which is always fun and (2) we don't have afternoon practice, and it's kind of nice to get to have the rest of the day at home after church.

Rachel, Miriam, and Benjamin had a youth meeting after church, though, so they ended up coming home separately from the rest of us, anyway. And they brought Andie over to play games. 

Soon after Andie left, Grandpa and Darla arrived for dinner. Andrew and Benjamin had spent the entire afternoon making orange chicken (which was a whole lot of work, but which was also delicious). After dinner we opened presents, played Swoop (a game Grandpa and Darla played a lot on their cruise/bike trip through Europe this summer), and then had cake.

It was a very low-key birthday. Rachel also planned a few game nights around but not on her birthday so that she could hang out with friends but not have them do anything embarrassing like sing to her.

Here she is opening her gifts, which were all things for living on her own—a dough whisk...

Triangles

The other day we were practicing drawing triangles (because Phoebe struggles with triangles and anything triangular...like the letter A, for example). I put three dots on the page for her and she practiced connecting the dots, resting her felt pen between strokes to get a nice angle in there. 

It's a work in progress. 

Sometimes she's really into practicing her writing and sometimes she's not. On this particular day she was a little not into it and I asked her why and she told me that triangles are useless because they aren't people and she just wants to learn how to draw people. 

Fair. 

So I turned one of my triangles into a little girl by adding a circle for a head and little stick arms and legs and...she was very impressed and drew one of her own. 

And then decided giving a hand-drawn person a body and a head felt like too much work and defaulted to her favourite "hody" form where the head is the body and the body is the head: 

(Tall) Tales, Stuffed Animals, and More Cousins

Rachel is 18 now...and it's kind of hard to think about my child being an adult. 

It's hard for Phoebe, too. Alexander (jokingly?) told her that adults don't get birthday presents and so when Phoebe saw Rachel this morning she was like, "Happy birthday...sorry you're an adult now..."

"Uh...why?" 

"Be-tuz adults don't get birthday presents."

Phoebe was rather relieved when Rachel did get birthday presents after all. 

Anyway, we'll write about Rachel later because for now I will share some thoughts about Phoebe (who is still a child, and who wants the exact presents that Rachel got today for her birthday when she turns 18, which I suppose simplifies our shopping). 

Not only did Phoebe have a very cousin Saturday, but she also got to have a video call with some more cousins today. We made an effort to phone my parents a little earlier in the evening so the kids could talk with them (so often I call after the kids are in bed, simply because we're a few hours behind all the happenings in the west). Phoebe had a great time talking (and talking and talking). 

She would start off each story with a little nugget of truth like, "The other day we found an Easter egg and it had actual candy inside!"

That is true—we found an Easter egg that we had not found during our Easter egg hunt. It had a few Robin's Eggs inside and I think Alexander, Zoë and Phoebe each ate one. 

"And then I went upstairs and my bed was all the way filled up with candy and I had to eat it all and it was so good!"

That is not true, actually. 

A very cousin Saturday

Rosie's family moved to Tennessee in June, which means that we really, truly are close enough to visit now—no excuses! Except that we were supposed to get together for the 4th...but Rosie's girls got hand, foot, and mouth disease...and then soon after they recovered they got fifth's disease...and we've been battling our own viruses down here in Georgia. But this weekend we managed to finally get together!

Because they're living in a short-term rental until their house is ready for them, they made the trip down to us! They arrived on Friday afternoon and the kids played hard in the basement until dinner (but I left my phone upstairs and didn't take any pictures of them—we were just having a fun time catching up).

Rosie took this picture of the kids playing on a teeter-totter downstairs: 

Not a real meeting

Yesterday I was in a class zoom meeting about how to identify/develop a theoretical framework when Phoebe wandered in. She was supposed to be otherwise occupied but...you know Phoebe. Would it have worked to lock my door? Perhaps—but she's a "pick-locker," as she says...so perhaps not. 

"Are you in a meeting?" she asked, tip-toeing over to my nightstand to take a drink from the water bottle that I keep there just for her so that she doesn't drink out of my water bottle. 

"I am."

"Is it a real meeting?" she asked. "Because I see puppies...so..."

One of my classmates had put some chihuahuas up as her background picture, so there were indeed puppies. 

"It is a real meeting," I told her. "Do you want to say hello?"

"No," she said...and then walked away to cause chaos elsewhere.

But now I'm pretty sure she thinks that I'm 100% hopping online to talk about puppies behind her back.

A crowded museum visit

Who has a family pass to the High Museum of Art and showed up on "Access for All" (free admission on the third Wednesday of the month) day? 

This family!

*****

But let me back up really quick...

Shin splints?

I've never had shin splints before.

I've heard about them plenty, but apparently my running form is so exquisite (lol) that I've never experienced them. 

Until this week when my left shin started hurting something terrible. 

I thought about my exercise routine and nothing really seemed off about it and I couldn't imagine that I would have developed shin splints from running the same way I always do (again—exquisite form...or something). So I decided to blame my trek across campus last week. 

I went to campus because I needed to go do some work in the book room and look at some papers in the special collections library. 

The walk from my office to the library is...quite the hike. 

And I wore a new pair of shoes that honestly had my feet quite miserable by the end—a mile to the library, a mile back from the library, and then walking to and from the car added another mile to the day. 

Clearly I had been doing some overcompensating as I was walking. 

Or something. 

Whatever the case, by Sunday afternoon my left shin—specifically—was killing me. Did my right shin hurt as well? I imagined that perhaps it did because my feet were still a little sore from their three-miles-in-new-shoes adventure on campus earlier. I spent a little time discretely massaging them while watching Benjamin's swim meet. 

And then I skipped my run on Monday because...my shins were still sore. 

But Monday was a bit of a crazy day because I accompanied Rachel to the doctor in the morning and then took Benjamin to the middle school in the afternoon (to see about how to perhaps get on the middle school swim team) and...I wore pants...so I didn't spend a lot of time looking at my legs (and didn't have a lot of time to look at my legs anyway).

It just hurt...boo hoo...life moves on. 

Into things

We have been reveling in not having to be up for swim practice early in the morning. But when I checked my phone at 10:30 and found that a bunch of swim team moms were meeting at the pool to play...did we go? Absolutely. 

We arrived at 11:00 and we played until 3:00 and saw so many of our friends. 

When we first arrived the O and Cu families were there. But the Cu family had to leave for haircuts and the O family decided they wanted to make it to the library for a puppet show this afternoon. I actually had that—quite tentatively—on my schedule as well and I asked the kids what they would rather do: wait for the M family to show up or go to the puppet show. They all voted to stay at the pool—with Phoebe gushing, "I'd rather see Miss Julie!" (the mom of the M family)—so that's what we did.

It turns out that staying at the pool was a good decision because the O family texted to say that the library programming for the day had been cancelled due to some maintenance issues. Plus soon after the M family showed up, the Cl family showed up as well. 

The kids had a blast...and only got a little bit sunburned (in spite of my forcing them out of the pool to reapply sunscreen). 

Here's Phoebe pretending to sleep in the fort Zoë helped her make after we got home:

And That's A Wrap: Benjamin's County Meet

Benjamin was awfully excited for the county swim meet this afternoon. I was both surprised—and not surprised—to look over and see his meet suit underneath his church clothes...

Zoë at the County Meet

After a somewhat terrible night (with Phoebe and rogue fire alarms and other adventures), we got up bright and early to head to Georgia Tech for Zoë's session of the county swim meet. Their facility is phenomenal—it probably helps that it was built specifically for the Olympics in 1996. So it was just fun to be there, even though our kids didn't quite end up making it in any individual events. Zoë was 56th in breaststroke (24.96, but 50th place—the cutoff for county—was only 24.49 and these kids didn't drop to 23.84 seconds until 44th place, so Zoë was really quite close making it!). As the fastest breaststroker on our team, though, she was pulled into the medley relay. She also swam on the freestyle relay.

Miriam on the organ at Christ Church

Here's a video I know Grandpa has been waiting for! 

When the girls were in England (with Grandpa and Darla) they toured around Oxford and Miriam got to play on the organ at Christ Church. Their guide, George, is helping her with the stops at times and told her she should apply to be an organ scholar there. She's been looking into it, but she'd need a number of AP examinations with a score of 5 to qualify (but—one down, right?) and she's not sure she wants to take that many AP exams...

Anyway, here she is playing one of her pieces (she's embarrassed about her playing here, but it's her first time on the organ and each organ has a different feel so it's understandable that she would make a few mistakes):

Butterflies and sunbeams

Today my friend Janelle brought over a bagful of vegetables from her parents' garden. I was grateful because our garden went to the birds (and the deer and the squash beetles) this year. I just couldn't keep up with it...like at all. 

Have I mentioned we've been sick?

Anyway, today we got fresh vegetables from the garden. I knew they were coming because Janelle had texted to ask if she could share. And the little kids knew she'd brought them because they are the ones who answered the door. But my big kids didn't know where they came from. 

"Yum," Rachel said, looking at the juicy tomatoes and thick cucumber slices. "Whose garden did these come from?"

"Janelle's," Alexander answered. 

"Well, technically they're from her parents' garden," I said. 

"Ah, our neighbour-in-laws," Rachel quickly (and wittily) responded. 

*****

Flooding

It was difficult for me to watch the news about High River's big flood back in 2013. 

The flooding in Texas has been absolutely gut-wrenching, with over 100 dead (including 27 children/counselors from a summer camp). To be fair, that flooding has been nothing short of catastrophic...it hurts my heart just to think about it.

Durham is flooding right now as well, and it's eerie to watch the news from there. 

We used to live at the red tag on the following map:

Our neighbourhood was called Eno Trace, and you can kind of see where the river...traces...Lazyriver Drive, the main road in our neighbourhood. We used to hike through the woods to get to River Forest Park (which my kids called the "Purple Slide Park"). There wasn't a great place to cross the river, but Old Farm Road Park is clearly right there as well (we would sometimes have soccer games there), just off Rippling Stream Road. Because of the river, though, we'd have to take Infinity down to Roxboro Road and then enter that neighbourhood. 

Linocutting for FHE

For FHE we put sick little Phoebe on the couch to watch a show and shut sick little Benjamin in his bedroom far away from everyone else (we even have a sign on the bathroom door saying "ONLY BENJAMIN" to remind everyone else to not use that bathroom so that we don't inadvertently share germs with him) and the rest of us did some rubber stamp carving/linocuts. 

The kids made all kinds of fun things—piano keys, a flower pot, a Lego hand, Miriam's music logo, some holly and berries—on rubber. I made a linocut of a person swimming butterfly. 

I broke it into two separate parts so that I could use multiple colours of ink. The top image in the picture below is one of the carvings—of a swim cap and a splash of water—and then the person's body is a separate carving. You can see that I didn't quite take out enough of the "noise" the first time I tried printing (because my goal is to leave room above the swimmer to write "Thank you!" or "Go team!" or whatever), so I took out some of that and tried again:

My blue was drying out by the time I finished flattening the image out a bit, so the water part didn't turn out so well, but I think it will work when I make official prints (because i won't stop to carve so much in the middle). 

I thought it turned out pretty well for my first attempt at layering my linocuts.

Unfortunately, we put both Andrew and Rachel to bed with fevers...here's hoping we can all pull out of this funk we're in by the end of the week...

Double trouble: An update on Phoebe

When Andrew took Alexander into the doctor (after Alexander complained of not being able to hear), he also took Phoebe because she had been sick for a while, too. Alexander was quickly diagnosed with a double ear infection and some respiratory thing that the antibiotics would probably also clear up pretty quickly. Phoebe was diagnosed with...wait and see. 

She also had fluid in her ears, but it appeared to be clear. The doctor assumed it was related to her general head-cold, but it wasn't infected yet. Thus the wait and see approach.

Well, we watched and we saw!

She was still feverish today, so we decided to take her back in, just to be on the safe side, and lo...

Double ear infection. 

A pretty severe one, too. Bright yellow pus, bulging ear drum. 

"And she hasn't complained about her ears hurting?" the doctor asked.

Not. A. Single. Word. 

About the ears. 

There's been plenty of complaining otherwise. 

Miriam's Music Theory Exam (and other morning chaos)

"Why is sugar water so good?!"

Those are the words I was greeted with when I came down the stairs this morning. Zoë, Alexander, and Phoebe were having a tea party for breakfast, with oatmeal and a little charcuterie board of animal crackers, craisins, and pistachios. They had peppermint tea with sugar. Or, in Phoebe's case, plain ol' sugar water. 

"I just don't understand how it can be this good!" she said. 

"Because it's just...sugar..." I told her. "People tend to like sugar."

We skipped swim practice this morning so we could all just sleep and sleep and sleep. Alexander is feeling better. Phoebe seems to be on the mend. They got up with Zoë early in the morning. Zoë and Rachel have what seem to be lingering head colds. And Benjamin crashed hard last night. 

He was perfectly fine all day. He even said the closing prayer in sacrament meeting. 

And then he just...crashed. He slept in until around 11:30 this morning, as did multiple other people in the house. We are a tired household these days.

We had just been lining up all the awake kids (Rachel, Zoë, Alex, and Phoebe) to take their temperatures (mostly normal today—just Phoebe with a fever still!) when Benjamin came skidding down the hallway, crashing through our little group, to fling himself over the toilet in the bathroom. We all grimaced at each other while he puked. 

"How are you feeling, Benjamin?" I asked when his regurgitation noises had subsided. 

In response he hurled some more.

"Not up for conversation, eh?" I asked. 

More retching.

*****

Now, Phoebe has thrown up a few times with this sickness, but those instances have clearly been linked to uncontrollable coughing fits. Benjamin's stomach issues seem like a whole new set of symptoms. 

While he was in the midst of vomiting, Miriam came running up the stairs screaming.

The basement stairs spit traffic into the hallway right at the bathroom door, but somehow she missed the fact that Benjamin was in there puking and rounded the corner to find our preassembled crew. 

"Uh-oh. What's wrong?" we asked, like...what else could possibly be happening?

"I GOT A 5!!!!" she squealed, jumping up and down.

4th of July testimony meeting

Andrew stayed home with Phoebe and Alexander while I took the older four to church. Kind of. I drove Benjamin and Zoë. Rachel and Miriam went separately because they had a meeting after church. 

But Zoë was fading away during sacrament meeting, so Rachel ended up driving her home (so that I could set up for primary). 

The fast Sunday closest to the 4th of July is a Sunday that I approach with some dread because I really don't love it when all the testimonies wind up being about the constitution, for example, rather than about the gospel of Jesus Christ. But today's meeting was truly wonderful. 

Many of the youth (including Rachel and Miriam) bore their testimonies about what they had learned about the gospel during the many retreats they've had this past couple of months (YM camps, YW camp, youth conference, FSY). A few adults bore their testimonies about their immigration or their ancestors' immigration, highlighting the love they have for their homelands in addition to the States. Only one sister spoke of the founding fathers directly—she read a passage from the Declaration of Independence, "that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.—That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed..."

She spoke a bit about traveling to Berlin pre-1989, of seeing that wall, of knowing that on one side there was oppression while on the other side there was freedom of movement, freedom of speech, freedom of assembly, and so forth. And how much joy there was when the wall came down and people were reunited and given the freedom to...you know...be. And how sad it is when we put up these walls and grant freedom to people on one side, while not allowing those freedoms on the other side, and that our Heavenly Father loves every one of his children no matter what side of the (human-made) wall they are on.

Swimming

This morning we went to a friend's birthday party at her lake/pool clubhouse. She invited all the youth in the ward...plus some of the older primary kids. Alexander and Phoebe would have been welcome as well, except that they're both too sick. And Miriam was on her way home from FSY so she missed out as well. 

The kids spent a good portion of the morning at the pool, came out for pizza, and then spent a good portion of the afternoon at the lake. 

Medicated Kindness

Phoebe was fine, fine, fine, fine fine yesterday.

Then she got a little runny nose.

Then she lost her ever-loving mind. 

We have never seen that girl so grumpy. She didn't quite know how to communicate that she just wasn't feeling well so while we were at Grandpa and Darla's she just...kept asking to go potty. She should have just found a quiet corner to curl up in because in reality she was just miserable. 

There was a lot of screaming and crying. 

When we loaded into the car to head home she requested that we put on "Everything is Awesome," which we did, and then she fell asleep before we even left the neighbourhood. 

She woke up shortly before we got home and cried because she thought we were going home...which we were. I guess she just had been hoping we'd be there already. 

She definitely had developed a fever by the time we got home. Andrew gave her medicine and put her to bed while I did a video call with my sister Kelli and her grandkids (she went up to Alberta to visit them for the 4th—Scarlett is a year older than Benjamin, Rowan and Arthur are both around Alexander's age). 

*****

It was a long night.

Breakfast flop

I failed the pop quiz. 

To be fair, there was no announcement about the ward breakfast in the email that was sent out three days ago. The attachment was included on the email dated June 24. And, yup, I didn't see it. 

We put the breakfast on the calendar because it was announced over the pulpit (and because we knew we had one every year). To that end, the breakfast is always at the same place and swimming has always been tolerated but not encouraged (and in fact is more often discouraged). 

We showed up without swimming suits. All the other kids were in the pool. 

(How did they all know?! I imagine an announcement was made in RS or something.)

We sat on the sidelines listening to nauseating patriotic music and—for my part—feeling incredibly stupid and underprepared. I had a bad-ittude.

Pop Quiz: Find the information about the ward breakfast!

[Redacted] Ward

[Redacted] Ward Bulletin 

Sacrament Meeting: 9:00 AM till 10:00 AM

1st and 3rd Weeks - Youth Sunday School

2nd and 4th Weeks - RS/EQ Meetings

2nd and 4th Weeks - YM/YW Meetings

Each Week - Primary: 10:00 AM till 11:00 AM

Each Week - Nursery: 10:00 AM till 11:00 AM - Parents welcome to attend with their child. 

Chorister: [redacted]

Organist: Miriam Heiss  

Opening Hymn: 185 : Reverently and Meekly Now” 

Ward Business 

Ear infections and things

Swim team always seems to do Alexander in. 

Last year he wound up with pneumonia. 

He's been sick for the last little while as well. 

We've been battling swimmer's ear all summer. 

And then he caught a respiratory thing that has been lingering and lingering and lingering. 

Last night when he was saying goodnight he casually announced that he couldn't hear anything out of one ear (isn't that weird? But it's probably fine. I love you, goodnight!). 

Yeah. So, we decided we needed to take him to the doctor in the morning.

Silly scripture study

We have this game called "Flushin' Frenzy" that my sister Kelline sent to us a few years ago—right in the middle of COVID lockdowns. She thought we'd get a kick out of it. And we did.

The kids still like to play it. Rachel has catlike reflexes when it comes to grabbing that plastic poop in midair. No one can ever beat her.

#Fail

This afternoon I decided we should embark on some "spiffy up" projects. 

Rachel will be leaving for college soon, which will cause a domino effect of sorts in the bedrooms. Perhaps musical chairs is a more appropriate analogy. Either way—we'll be switching up who's bunking with whom. 

"I'd like you guys to help me decide which board books we should keep and..."

"Okay!" Phoebe said. "No problem: All of them."

"But surely we don't need all of them."

"We do! I don't even know how to read yet! I need the book about the trains. I need the book about the little farm animals. And just...we need all of them, okay? 'Specially the book about the trains."

So apparently we're into trains right now.

And it's too soon to be getting rid of board books. 

We have spiffied up nothing. 

Church Cleaning, High Tide, and Songwriting

When we went to clean the church this morning we accidentally stumbled upon another ward's "Dads and Doughnuts" activity...so the church was filled with dads and doughnuts and children. They invited us to join them (and we did, from the sidelines). My kids weren't terribly upset about getting "second breakfast" before pitching in to clean.

The church has been filled with strange messes, some of which we've known about and some of which took us by surprise. One surprise was that someone had spilled a carton of chocolate milk in the chapel...and then just...left it...fermenting in the carpet. Super awesome. 

Some of the messes we knew about were: a urn/flower arrangement delivery box left over from a funeral that happened months ago that has been sitting in the chapel. Some banker boxes that someone left in the hallway (again, months ago). I made the unilateral decision that these were destined for Rachel to pack her college stuff in.

I threw away some things that our co-op left behind (again, months ago now). 

And I finally put a poster up in the YM room that had been put behind the piano in the YW room (again months and months ago).

It can be difficult to keep the church uncluttered when so many units are in there because no one wants to throw away anything that belongs to anyone else. But...given the unclaimed nature of these things...I don't think they were going to be claimed any time soon. 

So, it took us a while to get through with our cleaning, but it was a pretty good morning.

*****

When I got Phoebe dressed this morning she was still in a bit of an early-morning daze so I was helping her pick out her clothes (which she ordinarily does on her own).

"Do you want pants or shorts?" I asked.

"Shorts," she said.

"Okay, here you go," I said, handing her a pair of blue and white striped shorts. 

"Thanks," she said, "But I want to wear my high tide shorts."

"Your high tide shorts?" 

"Yeah! They're right there!"

She meant her tie-dyed shorts. And then, of course, we had to find her "high tide" Grogu shirt to go with it. Here she is in her "high tide" outfit:

She was delighted to see Rachel and Miriam (she hasn't seen them since Sunday night because they've been at camp...and then even when they were sleeping at our house they were coming home after Phoebe went to bed and leaving the house before she woke up so she didn't even realize they were "home"). We were happy they were home to help us clean the church!

She delighted us on the drive to the church by singing "Once There Was a Thunderstorm" (to the tune of "The Wheels On the Bus"). She had sung the first verse last night at dinner and you should have seen us all lean in as she got closer and closer to the last line of the song because no one was sure what she was going to do to resolve her song. She simply fell back on the traditional ending for "The Wheels On the Bus." 

Here's her song:

Once there was a thunderstorm,
A thunderstorm, a thunderstorm.

Once there was a thunderstorm...
All through the town!

So she sang that in the car for us and then went seamlessly into a secret second verse:

The thunderstorm made the power went out,

The power went out, the power went out!

The thunderstorm made the power went out...

All through the town!

Did she past-tensify too many of her verbs? Absolutely. But that's okay. 

I recorded her singing it later and she corrected her over-past-tensification to say "the thunderstorm made the power go out." 

It was fun to listen to her improvise this little autoethnographic ditty about her experience last night.

Power Damage!

As the evening progressed, it became clear that our 40% chance of thunderstorms had increased to about, oh, I'd say ninety-nine-pointy-one. When the storm hit us, it was raging: the thunder was loud, the lightning was constant, the rain was...wet. Our power flickered a few times in the midst of everything, but it didn't go out until after we thought we were through everything.

We'd just gotten Alexander and Phoebe into their jammies and were about to gather for scriptures and prayer when...everything went dark. It was still light enough outside that this wasn't a huge deal, but Phoebe thought it was the best thing ever!

Benjamin's woodworking class

Andrew posted online about a swim meet the other day and someone commented on his post something like: "Lord, if I have but one day to live, let there be a swim meet, because those things last forever!"

With two swim meets this week, it has felt like this week has been at least two weeks (three swim meets within eight days). 

Add in the girls going to YW camp, a heat wave, the girls being sent home from YW camp, daily swim practices, class, work, and everything else...it feels like we've lived an entire lifetime since last week. 

Oh, and Benjamin had his woodworking camp this week as well! It was every afternoon from 1 to 5. And I think everyone had a good time—from the youngest boy up to the oldest teacher. Here's Benjamin when I dropped him off on the first day:

% Chance

We were driving home from Benjamin's exhibition evening at Woodcraft. Grandpa met us there and took Zoë and Benjamin back to his place for a sleepover. Alexander is feeling exhausted from the late night at the swim meet yesterday, so he'll be staying home this evening. The older girls are finishing up their last day of camp activities. And, of course, Phoebe was with us.

"That cloud looks menacing," Alexander observed. 

"Yeah!" Phoebe agreed. "Dad, is it going to rain?"

"It might." 

"Before you said it was going to rain!" she objected.

"No, I said there was a 40% chance of rain, which means that if we lived this day over 100 times, it would rain on 40 of those days," Andrew explained.

"What about ninety-nine-pointy-one cent chance?!" Phoebe asked, which is a sure sign you're being raised by a statistician of sorts (not that Andrew is a statistician by trade, not precisely...but he teaches stats and that's pretty close to the same thing).