Puddling and Panopticon

We did, in fact, make it outside to play in the rain. 

Alexander and Zoë got up at 6:30 this morning and finished all their (individual) school work by 10:00 this morning, so they were free to go outside and play. Benjamin slept in a bit so he had to do math hour.

Sometimes we have issues with...accountability...at our house. 

But I was talking to my friend Bekah in class on Tuesday and she mentioned that the teacher she's observing has this, like, surveillance screen on their computer where they can see the screen of every child in the classroom at once to know whether they are on the appropriate screen or not. And I was like, "Ummm...what program is this, precisely??" 

She told me, but it is not priced for private use. It's more of a thing a school district buys. 

But I was telling Andrew about this and so he, of course, came up with a solution—screen-casting through Discord! Apparently a lot of people do this for study groups and things, just for an accountability measure. And it seems to work for a lot of people. So Andrew made a channel where the children can stream their screens and I can see them all at the same time. That way I can easily see whether they're working on their math lesson (or whatever) or whether they're watching a YouTube video (or whatever).

And because the kids don't know whether or not I'm watching...they act as if I'm always watching.

The potential of being watched is motivation enough. 

Andrew initially called the channel "Panopticon" and we explained to the children a bit about what that was (some of them had listened to a 99% Invisible segment on Panopticon so they already knew about it), but he was like, "We can rename the channel to be less threatening...like "study hall" or something instead of the foucauldian panopticon. School-time to match gaming-time..."

So he changed the name to boring ol' "school-time" and there was quite an uproar about that.

It's back to Panopticon. 

Here's a shot of Benjamin looking at his own screen through his own screen through his own screen through his own screen through his own screen...

Screen-ception

Clearly this surveillance method presents its own opportunity for distraction. However, it seemed to work well today. And it's rather convenient because Andrew and I can log in and see whether the kids are on task when we are away from home! That means I can check in on the kids on Tuesdays and today while I was outside splashing in puddles with the little kids, Andrew logged on to "watch" Benjamin do his math...so I didn't even have to worry that Benjamin wasn't doing his work while I was devoting some attention to sweet little Phoebe-cakes.

Here she is doing some puddle jumping while waiting for Alex and Zoë to join her (they were finishing up their weather class):

Here they are together:

And speaking of puddles...

There was a moth flitting about our bedroom the other night and it was disturbing Andrew.

Lepidopterophobia is a real fear, though it feels somewhat silly to me. I mean, I used to suffer extremely from cynophobia—the fear of dogs—and I still don't love dogs, though my symptoms are much improved. But dogs really do chase people and bite people...and even if they refrain from doing those things they are still large and smelly and slobbery. 

But butterflies?! 

Sure, they flit around with their wildly unpredictable flight patterns...but beyond that? 

Like, what are they going to do to you?

Exactly—nothing. 

They're like the quintessential herbivorous creature. Gentle. Quiet. Entirely non-predatory.

Still, people are afraid of them. 

People that I know and love. 

...who tease me for tensing up around dogs. 

Have you ever looked into a dog's mouth? Have you ever looked into a butterfly's mouth?

I mean, I suppose mosquitos are responsible for more deaths than just about anything, so perhaps you shouldn't let that little proboscis fool you... 

Rachel once was viciously attacked by a kaleidoscope of butterflies on our way down Y Mountain.*

Rachel cowering in fear in 2011

Miriam has been known to scream ferociously at moths (who callously refuse to be intimidated and instead behave entirely unperturbed by her behaviour). 

And Andrew...is little better. 

So there was a moth flitting about our room last night and he had to talk himself into going to sleep a little bit. He was like, "It's okay. It's fine. It's just a moth. Moths can't hurt you."

"True," I said. "But did you know that they are rather opportunistic feeders."

"What do you mean?" Andrew asked, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

"Well, ordinarily they seek out nectar but if they will also feed on blood if it's available."

"What?!" Andrew said, with his head now under the covers. 

"It's not like they're going to hunt you down and stab you with their probiscis!" I reassured him. "Vampire butterflies! Imagine! No! Just, like...if there's a carcass lying around and there happens to be some blood pooled up...butterflies will drink it."

It's called puddling and I just learned that there are tear-sucking butterflies that will actually insert their probiscis into the eyes of roosting birds...so there's that terrifying little fact as well. 

Anyway, after doing all that I could to soothe rather than exacerbate Andrew's fears we went to bed and around 3:00 in the morning Andrew felt a tickle on his leg. He scratched it. But it kept on tickling. So he scratched it some more. But it just kept on tickling. 

So he felt all around and finally found a little ball of lint tucked up inside his pyjama pants. 

He rolled it up in his fingers and tossed it onto the floor to deal with in the daylight and was horrified in the morning to find not a little ball of lint on the floor but a crumpled up...moth!

How dreadful for him, to be sure.

(When he was telling this story at dinner, Alexander asked if it was a lizard...because sometimes those get up pant legs as well.)

*****

We had a pretty big scare this evening, ourselves (Andrew was on campus so he missed it). 

I was upstairs working at my computer and the kids were downstairs doing gymnastics and/or wrestling in the living room. I'm not quite sure which. All I know is that suddenly there was a tremendous crash and I was positive that something horrible had happened to one of the children (and/or one of my walls), but they were all fine and just as baffled as I was. 

Benjamin is the one who found the source of the racket. 

A large tree branch had fallen off in the stormy weather and crashed down onto our deck.

We'll have to check out the full extent of the damage tomorrow when it's a little less rainy and a little less dark. My preliminary inspection shows that it more or less missed the house (although it sure did land right in front of the door).

* Hailey—hiking the Y is a safe and fun adventure, despite the risk of butterfly kisses. You should totally do it. (Do it and you're cool! Do it and you're cool!)