Eatonton and things

On Saturday we headed out to Eatonton to visit the Georgia Writers Museum as well as the Uncle Remus Museum. The Georgia Writers Museum was right downtown, across the street from the Putnam County Court House (or the Pvutnam Covnty Covrt Hovse, as the children liked to say).

Here's Phoebe and Alexander with a little statue of children reading outside of the museum:

 

Too much water for Phoebe

This is just a preamble while I gather my thoughts on our day. It's been a long time since we've gone on a family adventure! Rachel wasn't sure it was wise to join us because she had a few assignments to finish before this evening, but we convinced her that she could work on things in the car—she even got to ride in the front seat so that she wouldn't be bugged by her siblings. She finished with plenty of time to spare. 

On living in a somewhat geriatric neighbourhood

When Miss Penny died (about two years ago now), I wrote a poem—an abecedarian. It's doubtless that it will ever be published anywhere but here, but I thought it should be published somewhere...so here's good!

So far it's untitled:

An awkward sight in the afterglow of day, she stood,
bathrobe open, slippers on, spreading birdseed on the
cement for wild city creatures: bunnies, chipmunks,
deer. She doted on them and they came to trust her,
expecting an evening feed. Thus engaged when we
first saw her, she gave a friendly wave, guffawed:
“Guess I’m Snow White, all grown up!” Ever after
her house became known as “Snow White’s House”
in the juvenile collective imagination. In general, her
job—neighbourhood invigilator—just meant watching
kids play, gathering gossip, keeping an eye out for
languishing souls. “Hullo, there!” she’d holler, loudly.
Make no mistake—if you were melancholy she meant
nobody but you. “Now, why don’t you make your way up
onto my porch?” She’d offer stories meant only for your
pretty little ears, help you practice observing in order to
quiet your mind. Quite the lady, Penny was. I don’t
recall registering her absence until I saw the sign: “Estate
Sale.” A childless spinster school teacher, retired and
tired of everything but sitting in her rocker, watching the
universe unfold between the balustrade posts, it was not
very obvious when she vanished. Not too long ago we
waved to her while out on a walk. Then warmth gave way to
extreme cold (a poor excuse), we stayed away, and she said
yes to the past tense, to turning into yesterday, leaving the
zoo on her front lawn wondering where she got off to.

*****

A few Sundays ago, a clay creature Zoë and her friend had made broke. We'd already had dinner and the sun was rapidly sinking, but Zoë wanted to run up to her friend's house to hold a funeral service for their little clay creature. I told her to run along (remember how whenever I'm in charge of bedtime, we're always late getting things done? Yeah...it's a real problem for me).

She came back much sooner than expected. While they had buried their broken creation and held a brief service for it, their mourning was cut short by the arrival of an ambulance. They stood in shock as they watched Miss Anne be wheeled out of her house on a gurney.

"And I don't know if she's a live or dead!" Zoë panted, trying to recover from her sprint home in darkness punctuated by flashing red lights. 

Phoebe-Q

Phoebe found some lip gloss this morning, and having liberally applied it (+/-) to her lips declared herself "boo-i-ful." 

She insisted on wearing two skirts to the library.

I warned her that it might be a little chilly for a skirt, but she insisted she'd be fine. We came home and took Luna for a walk and when we came home Phoebe decided she'd rather wear pants—it was a little chilly with bare legs. So she went upstairs to get some pants.

I watched her awkwardly waddled down the stairs, but couldn't quite put my finger on what was wrong with her.

"I think something's wrong with your pants," I said. "Let me see..."

The issue she was having is that she was wearing not one, not two...or three...or even four pairs of pants. She had put on five pairs of pants. 

Jump start

On Wednesday last week, Rachel drove the kids to mutual and everything went fine. But when they got in the car to come home...it wouldn't start. So Andrew drove down to the church to rescue them. Fortunately it was a battery thing, so he gave them a jump and Rachel was able to drive home just fine.

And she went to seminary the next day. And the next. And then on Friday she drove to Athens and home again. And on Saturday she drove to Andie's house (to get a ride to a dance). And then drove home from Andie's house after the dance.

And then drove to seminary on Tuesday. 

And every time she turned on the car, it started a bit rough. It was just a little...hesitant to actually start...which was concerning. But we had a plan in place to fix it...but not until Wednesday. 

We just had to get to campus on Tuesday first...

So on Tuesday after Rachel got home from seminary, we hopped in the car, which choked to life, and started on our way to campus. 

We had to stop to fill up on gas, choosing a different gas station than we ordinarily do because...

Two little peas

This morning while Benjamin, Zoë and I were discussing the book we'd just finished reading together (The Red Pencil) and how they might engage with it further (analyzing specific characters or events, brainstorming about alternative titles/covers/endings, and so forth), Alexander and Phoebe were working on a Scratch project together.

Really Alexander was working on a Scratch project, and Phoebe was nestled up beside him, leaning on his shoulder like they're best buds (and they are).

They're so sweet together.

Woke up this morning feeling...enfranchised!

Thing I learned!

In 2019, Canada changed its voting rules for citizens living abroad. It used to be that if you had lived outside of the country for five years or longer you were ineligible to vote. But that is no longer the case. 

Now you can register to vote if you have lived in Canada at any point in your life, regardless of how long you've lived outside of Canada. 

Somehow or other Trudeau was prime minister for ten years, which means this law came into being during his term (terms aren't fixed, but are at the pleasure of His Majesty (King Charles)...and, technically, I would say the people as well, because a vote of no confidence can be called quite easily compared to just having to sit around for four years...or more...). I didn't vote for Trudeau in 2015 (could not have voted for him—believe me...I checked), so I was surprised when I checked the voting laws again today (just to make sure—because you never known when you'll wake up to find yourself enfranchised...) and found that I could vote in the upcoming election.

Did I register to vote today?

Absolutely I did.

Did I tell my Canadian-abroad family members to register to vote as well?

Absolutely I did.

I am awaiting my ballot, brimming with excitement.

Benjamin talks (and talks and talks) in church

Benjamin spoke in sacrament meeting for the first time today. 

He began writing his talk a few weeks ago...as a punishment. I'll share the story because he quite openly shared it with my mom this evening. Honestly, I had entirely forgotten what I'd been punishing him for—only that I had been quite livid about whatever it was and the punishment was to go to his room and...think about his upcoming talk. When he said why, I was like, "Oh, yeah!!"

Here's the scoop:

A few weeks ago, Benjamin, Alexander, and Reed had been playing in the backyard, but for whatever reason suddenly decided the backyard was "mid" and they were going to find something else to do. They were walking into the front yard and Benjamin spotted our new see-saw and started running toward it. 

In his mind, he had the idea that he and Reed could spin around and have a mighty fine time together. 

He snagged the first seat and, of course, landed with a plop on the ground, leaving the other seat up high in the air. 

Alexander saw this and figured he could take the other seat, so he took a great running start across the yard before hurling his seven-year-old body up into the air, grabbing onto that seat, and hoisting himself up so that he could see-saw with Benjamin.

Benjamin was upset by this because he had planned on see-sawing with Reed, not Alexander. 

So he stood up and let Alexander fall to the ground very rapidly—THUD!

And then...

AND THEN...jumped up into the air...and slammed back down on his own seat.

THUD went Benjamin into the ground.

POOF went Alexander flying into the air.

Garage Fridges, Grandma Dresses, and Dandelion Puffs

After being away from my kids all day on Friday, I didn't really want to leave them to go to the Relief Society "Super Saturday" but I went anyway (mostly because Miriam and Rachel wanted to go, but also because I could get rid of that tied fleece blanket you see in the corner behind Alexander and Phoebe, which I meant to donate in, like, November). 

When I left, Alexander was busy reading Fancy Nancy with Phoebe:

One to three years!?!?!

A few weeks ago, Benjamin came home with a trio of bullfrog tadpoles...and a teeny little salamander that he didn't mean to catch but accidentally scooped up with the tadpoles (and which we'll return to the wild once we can catch it...because while frogs are fine to keep, salamanders aren't...it keeps getting away from us though).

He asked if he could keep the tadpoles. 

Why not? They'll grow legs and hop off in the next few weeks and that'll be that. Right?

Riiiiight?

These tadpoles, however, are showing no sign of development. At all. 

No facial developments. No little leg nubs. Nothing. 

Male Researchers

Uncle Patrick messaged me to say that he had a couple of t-shirts to send back to the States with Josie (who is in Austria visiting him for a while). They're too small for him, but he figured my boys could grow into them—they say "Male Researcher" on the back.

"Hey, I could wear a shirt like that," Rachel mused. "Not because I'm a male researcher, but because I'm researching males."

I told her that she could wear it while presenting Uncle Patrick's slides: "Non-Invasive Dating Techniques" from a male researcher.

I also sent her little quip along in the family group chat. Uncle Allen was particularly taken aback by her remark and told my sister to tell me to tell Rachel that that remark was a little racy for Rachel to be saying and that she's far too young to be researching males. 

Rachel retorted that it was all in the name of science.

Uncle Allen was rendered speechless (to make him feel better, although Rachel is at a dance right now, she never actually been on a date—her dating pool is rather shallow out here).

Uncle Patrick wondered whether the freshmen males at BYU would survive her sarcastic wit. 

Time will tell.

All the conferences

Today my brother Patrick sent a picture of himself presenting at a conference in Dresden (I'm pretty sure). His paper title is hilarious: Non-invasive Dating: A New Methodology.

It's about how to date paper not people, but it always takes people a minute to get there.

Wardrobe issues

"Can somebody help me?" Phoebe wailed from upstairs. "I'm stuck! Help! Help! Somebody! Please!"

I stopped what I was doing (loading another load of unending laundry into the washing machine) and ran up to help her. And where did I find her? 

Standing at the top of the stairs and absolutely distraught that she'd managed to put her sweater on backwards. Putting a sweater on is one tricky bit of business, but taking a sweater off? That is a herculean task. T-shirts are manageable. Sweaters are impossible—the sleeves go on forever! How does one even get their arms out of them?!

St. Patrick's Day

I neglected to get a picture of everyone wearing their green on St. Patrick's Day, but we were all sure to put on green first thing in the morning. St. Patrick's Day pinchers were out in full force that day!

It was pretty funny, though, because we kept forgetting why everyone was wearing green. At the dinner table Rachel remarked, "Hey! We're all wearing green today...oh."

Here's Zoë wearing a lovely green mustache:

Auntie K sent a bunch of St. Patrick's Day things years ago and we just get them out every year and enjoy them. I even brought our stash of headbands and hats to primary and had the primary kids wear them while singing wiggle songs.

IPM: Interactive Prayer Model

On Saturday night (when we remembered to gather the entire family for scriptures and prayer), Rachel said the prayer.

She asked that we could be kept safe through the storm and Phoebe, who has been a fan of interactive prayer models (rather than sitting still and listening, and then saying "amen") jumped up and, expressively tracing jagged thunderbolts in the air with her arms, said, "YEAH! TEEP US SAFE FROM AAAAAAAALL THE HURTATOES!"

It was rather funny. 

This time she apparently was making an agglomeration of hurricane + tornado + potatoes, as far as I can figure (last time it was hurricane + tornado + volcanoes). 

*****

At least we know he isn't littering...

I created a temporary art installation on my living room floor yesterday afternoon when I so bravely folded the load of laundry Alexander so proudly threw into the wash all by himself. I called it: "Why Do Little Boys Even Have Pockets?"

I think every pocket on every pair of pants he wore was crinkly—stuffed full of wrappers. I had a whole pile of trash by the time I finished: fruit snacks wrappers, granola bar wrappers, fig bar wrappers, fruit-by-the-foot, beef jerky wrappers, cheese stick wrappers...

And one non-crinkly tissue.

Miri-who?

Rachel, Miriam, and I took Phoebe on a walk this afternoon and she fell asleep in the stroller, which she hasn't done in a long time, and then she stayed snoozing in the garage for quite some time after we got home. 

The neighbourhood kids were all playing and Phoebe slept right on through their happy sounds. 

Then the neighbourhood kids decided they needed a wagon and moved a bunch of bikes to access the wagon and a shovel fell off the wall and bonked Benjamin on the head before clattering to the floor and a yelling match erupted between Benjamin, who felt a little sore about things (in about ten different ways), and Zoë, who Benjamin blamed for having been the last person to hang up a shovel on the rack.

We heard the clattering and the hollering from inside the house (I went out to check on heads and to inform the kids that Phoebe was napping in the garage where they were currently having a full blown fight and knocking bikes over and stuff). 

Phoebe magically slept right on through that noise, too.

So...we're not sure what's up with her. Probably best that she stayed home from church. 

Rachel's talk and Phoebe's...day

Here's a picture of Rachel writing her talk late last night, while sitting at my feet. I was switching back and forth between an article I was reading and her talk whenever she wanted feedback. The bedroom window was wide open and we were listening to the thunder rage and the wind howl (until the rain started).

How "kids these days" can type an entire paper on their little phones is beyond me. I like my keyboard too much to attempt that. But here she is...typing up a 5-minute speech on her phone.

Blood worm moon

Miriam decided to stay up until the lunar eclipse. She was in good company—Andrew and I are usually up until around 2:00 working, anyway. She cleaned the kitchen, did her math lessons, and who knows what else (worked on driver's ed, perhaps). 

Benjamin woke up around 1:30 coughing and sneezing. 

Allergy season is upon us...but I also think the kids may have picked up a cold. 

When Phoebe woke up at 2:00 and wandered down to Andrew's office to say hello (she doesn't usually get to see him on Thursdays, but was already awake when he left for campus around 6:00 this morning), we decided we may as well wake everyone else up as well.

It's not every day we get to interrupt the conversation between the sun and the moon, after all!

Naturally all the pictures I took of the moon with my phone were terrible quality. So we will leave that sort of documentation to the professionals. 

Tired Phoebe

Phoebe loves her little chalkboards. She loves drawing on them. She loves erasing her drawings. She loves wiping them down with a wet cloth to get all the old chalk dust away. She (recently) loves sneaking into Daddy's office to retrieve his little air-blower keyboard-cleaning thing to dry her chalkboards off faster (she's only recently overcome her fear of that noise). 

Here she is drawing our family (are her pants on inside out? Yes. Is she still wearing her pyjama top because she gave up trying to change out of it? Maybe so. But she's still adorable):

Hurtanoes: There's a storm comin'

We're gearing up for a big storm to roll in this weekend. 

I'm not seeing any official weather alerts about it, but the meteorologists all seem pretty excited about it and the university sent out a weather alert. 

Yesterday I asked the kids to clean up the basement so that we could hunker down if we needed to (and also, and perhaps mostly, because I also wanted the basement to get cleaned up) and they've been in storm-prep mode ever since. 

*****

This morning Phoebe got up earlier than I wanted to be awake (in my defense I was up late working on a conference proposal), so I helped her with a few things and then told her I was going to go back to bed for a little while.

"That's okay!" she said. "I've got Alexei! Hey, Alexei—wanna talk about hurtanoes some more?"

They've been talking about "hurtanoes" all day—some wild mashup (portmanteau) of "hurricane" and "volcano" and "tornado," I think. Alexander knows the difference between those things. Phoebe has no idea what she's talking about.

Between those two, though, it seems we'll be in pretty good shape down in the basement. They've set out flashlights and pillows and blankets and little pop-up tents for sleepover fun. The storage room already has food and water. And there's plenty of entertainment down there as well (books and games and LEGO and things). 

They've made it look like so much fun that they want to sleep down there tonight, even though the storm won't blow in until Saturday!

The Rachels

I caught Phoebe with a green candy cane she's been coveting since December. It belong[ed] to Miriam, who hadn't eaten it on account of her braces—she's a rule-follower for sure!

"How'd you get that?" I asked Phoebe. 

"Uhhh...I can reach stuff," she informed me (as if I didn't know). 

"Okay," I said. "But, like, who gave you permission to have it?"

"Rachel did," she said confidently. 

Rachel, who was sitting at the table eating lunch, gawked at Phoebe.

"I did not!" Rachel said.

"Not you," Phoebe said calmly. "The other Rachel—Miriam."

And that about sums up how Phoebe has categorized her older sisters: Rachel is synonymous with "grown-up sister." 

Grown-up sisters can do things like use the oven and drive cars and babysit and go to parties and dances past bedtime. They're as tall as all the other grown-ups around. And mom never asks them if they've brushed their teeth. 

There are two grown-up sisters Rachels in this house: Rachel-proper and Rachel-Miriam. 

(And, yes, Miriam did give Phoebe permission to consume her verboten candy cane. I checked.)

His Eye is On the Sparrow

One of the new (to us) hymns recently added to the hymnbook is His Eye Is On The Sparrow. We sang it today and evidently Phoebe rather enjoyed it. 

While she was sitting on the potty before getting ready for bed she started singing the chorus. 

"I sing because I'm happy! I sing because I..." she paused thinking about what the next word might be.

"DO!" she decided (the real words are "I sing because I'm happy! I sing because I'm free!"). 

She sang it that way for the next few minutes: "I sing because I'm happy! I sing because I do!"

Spring Formal

Today was the spring formal (aka or at least formally known as "Mormon Prom"). Last year the spring formal was in April, so we're a bit early this year. 

Last year only Rachel was able to go and she wore her flower girl dress from Grandpa and Darla's wedding. Rachel also got to go to homecoming this year (and I took several pictures of her in the new dress she picked out). But this was Miriam's first "formal" dance and she decided to wear a dress my mom bought her freshman year at BYU when she went to preference and she got dressed before Rachel did, which meant we were able to take some pictures outside in decent lighting. So I took several pictures of Miriam in her dress:

Dinner on Thursday

Last night we made Hawaiian Haystacks for dinner, something we haven't eaten (I think) since very soon after Karen's death in 2018, when someone in our ward brought it over for dinner. 

I wasn't really sure what to make for dinner...except that we had a fresh pineapple to use...and time was ticking so I decided to just start a pot of rice cooking and then brainstorm about what to have with the rice while it was cooking.

My three ideas were:

1. Something Mexican (we have leftover taco meat in the fridge)
2. Stir fry of sorts
3. Hawaiian Haystacks

I settled on Hawaiian Haystacks because (a) we hadn't had that in so many years that the kids couldn't even recall what it was and (b) we'd had "Ultimate Salad Bar" earlier in the week and had a lot of leftover toppings that also qualify as Hawaiian Haystacks toppings. 

All I had to do was make some chicken gravy and cut up a pineapple...and a bunch of vegetables. 

Often the gravy is made from a can of cream of chicken soup, but we don't usually have that stocked in our pantry, so I had made it from scratch, which really is not so difficult except that Phoebe wanted to help. She pulled out every single stool in our house and set them all up in the kitchen, forming an obstacle course of sorts (but allowing her to reach any given counter surface...as well as leaving a few in the middle of the kitchen floor to trip over). Then she demanded that she help and help and help.

"Phoebe," I sighed, wish that Andrew was home to be cooking with her instead of...me...having to do it. "I am not as confident about cooking as Daddy is, so I'm not as confident about allowing you to help. This is a step that Mommy has to do on her own, okay? You can have a turn stirring soon..."

So I browned the onions and I blended the water and flour and I made the base of the gravy and then I added the milk, whisked things together briefly, and handed Phoebe the whisk. 

"Finally!" she growl exasperatedly. "I tan tuut!"

Head on a swivel

This morning the kids went through their independent work independently (hallelujah—because it doesn't happy all the time) and then we went to co-op. 

Phoebe still doesn't like to go to her class so she hangs out with me, and that's fine. I popped a snack into my bag just as we were leaving the house because I knew Phoebe would ask for one and—after playing with play dough and magnets—she did ask for a snack. 

I opened her snack and set it on the little table in the classroom, where Phoebe happily stood and ate. Then the air system clicked on and Phoebe panicked. My children (and I) tend to be a little...sensitive...to noises. Phoebe wanted to locate the source of the whooshing and when she found it she panicked, snatched her cookies off the table, and backed away, saying, "That's not safe. Not safe at all!"

Waking the moon

I'm 10+ years late to the party, but I'm finally getting around to reading The Red Pencil (aloud with the kids) and I am so hung up on these moon rituals mentioned at the beginning of the book (and, as far as I can surmise, are mentioned later in the book). Granted, we are only on page 115, so we still have a ways to go but, like...what?

So apparently there is a tradition of "waking the moon" in...whatever village our protagonist, Amira, is from...where a "hiding moon" is considered "a curse" so when clouds threaten to cover the moon the people assemble to collectively "wake her" by yelling, banging drums, shaking bells, beating pans. 

And I just...have so many questions about this. 

Is this a special ritual? Like, are there only certain nights that it's important to keep the moon unveiled? Or is it important that she is always free from cloud cover?

Who is keeping tabs on the moon? From what I can tell from the book (and from, you know, life experience), these are all very hardworking people (aren't we all?). So who is assigned moon-watching duty after working the land so hard all day long? Is this task accomplished in shifts? It seems like it would be difficult to stay awake long enough to keep the moon in "view / until sunrise announces / night's farewell" (p. 36), especially if this is a constant thing.

And, again, we're just waking up the entire village to conjure a cacophony every time the moon slips behind a cloud? 

When, then, do the people sleep?

I know the moon wasn't visible when I went to bed last night. The roaring wind, pouring rain, and crashing thunder made enough of a ruckus that I'm not sure any of my hollers would have been heard over the noise of it all. Perhaps that's why cloud cover is bad luck. Who knows?

I don't. 

Particular chaos

Phoebe is the particular kind of child who will pick through the utensil basket in the dishwasher, carefully curating a handful of forks to put away all at once.

Phoebe is also the chaotic kind of child who will take that carefully curated handful of forks, walk over to the silverware drawer (we still call it that, even though we've never owned actual silverware), and simply toss them inside, sending them clattering every which way in the drawer (instead of placing them neatly in their little cubby in the organizer...or whatever it's called...a slot, perhaps). 

In short, I'm never quite sure what to expect from her or do with her...but she sure is cute!

These pictures have nothing to do with putting away the dishes, but here's Phoebe climbing up this ladder-thing at the park this afternoon. I think it looks like Jack's beanstalk a little bit.

Curly Fives

Here's Zoë first thing in the morning on Sunday, just after taking out her curlers. She was excited to go to church with curly hair. It was a fast Sunday, which meant it was testimony meeting as well, and yet even with those gloriously sproingy curls Zoë stayed glued to her seat. 

Miriam got up to bear her testimony, though, which made me think back to a story I've never written down because Miriam was so embarrassed about it years ago...but she's mostly finished being embarrassed about it, I think, so I'll share it now. 

When Miriam was about Zoë's age (a little younger, perhaps (we were still living in Spanish Fork)) she asked me to curl her hair for church—on a fast and testimony Sunday! During the testimony meeting she surprised us all by standing up to bear her testimony. She regally skipped down the aisle and bounced up to the podium. With some enthusiastic head bobbing she bore her testimony. Then she skipped back down to sit with the family.

Blue-Green Threshold

This evening I asked Miriam to pass me my water bottle (my campus water bottle, as Phoebe calls it, because it fits into my computer bag...but I drink out of it 100% of the time at home as well because she has co-opted my nightstand water bottle) and for some reason as I was asking her to pass it to me...I said something about "green."

Probably because I usually have a pink water bottle (my home water bottle that only Phoebe uses) and a green water bottle (my campus water bottle) on my nightstand. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.

"Will you hand me my green water bottle?" I asked.

I was at my desk. Miriam was sitting on the middle of my bed. It made sense.

"Greeeeeeeeen?" Miriam said, aghast. "This is clearly blue."

"It's green," I said, reaching for it.

"It's blue," she said, yanking it just out of my reach.

"We all know I struggle with this," I said. "My green threshold is different from everyone else in this house. We know this. And that is green."

Saturday is a special day

This morning Benjamin and I went out running together for the first time in a long time. We've been keeping fit using our home gym equipment. Is it here that I admit to the world that we have two exercise bikes, a treadmill, and a walking pad?

The doctor is forever on my case about how out of shape homeschooled children are—since they don't have Phys Ed. But we walk and run and bike and swim and swing and jump just as much as anyone else, I think. Many of the studies I've recently looked at posit that there might be a correlation between homeschooling and lack of physical activity...but noted that there doesn't seem to be any notable difference in the actual results of the study. And, honestly, from what I've heard about Phys Ed classes, this makes sense.

In fact, Rachel and Miriam recently have become friends with another homeschooling teenager. They've invited her to some game nights and movie nights and so she's becoming acquainted with all of Rachel and Miriam's public schooled friends. On the first night this girl met this public school kids, one of the public school girls was complaining about needing to complete one (1) pushup to pass her PE midterm. 

"How much recess do you get?" the homeschooled girl asked.

"Recess?" the public schooled girl said, confused. "We don't get recess! We haven't gotten recess since elementary school!"

"Oh!" said the homeschooled girl, shocked. "Then when do you go outside?"

"We don't. Not until school is over."

"Oh. I just...assumed...because the doctor is always telling me I need more fresh air, more exercise...that public schooled students got fresh air and exercise."

"We walk laps in the gym."

"Oh."

It is rather surprising to hear what they do at public school when we catch so much grief as homeschoolers (and I was pleased to know that we're not the only ones being lectured by our doctor about this). 

Anyway, Benjamin and I haven't gone running outside in a long time, in part because it's been winter and in part because I've been so busy that I've been running on the treadmill late at night after I get all the kids in bed. 

The kids run on the treadmill, they use the exercise bike. It's true we need fresh air as well...and we get plenty of that, as well. But recently we've been keeping fit indoors. So it was nice to head out into the sunshine and go for a run with Benjamin. 

When we were taking a little walking break I noticed a little anole darting around on the sidewalk. 

"Benjamin—look!" I said. 

"Oooh! I want to catch it!" he said. And he tried to.