Dandelion days

The kids had a blast at the park. They played a little "coronavirus tag," as you can see from the big fruit ball clinging to Miriam's shirt:

Closed for COVID-19

All of our parks are—rightly—closed due to pandemic precautions. The walking trails, however are—mercifully—still open (so long as we keep our distance from non-family groups, etc). 

The Allegory of the Olive Tree

Our primary chorister has been sending out lesson ideas each week, which has made "home church" significantly easier. Her idea for today was to print out an olive tree, some good fruit, some bad fruit, and a fire. We'd begin the lesson by casting off the bad fruit and burning it in the fire. And then we would search around for the good fruit.

Instead, I wrote good and bad "fruits" on pieces of paper and hid them around the room and we found them and quickly sorted out what was good and what was bad. The good fruit we added to our tree, to remind us how we want to be:

The poor fruit, well...

"Can we actually burn it?" the kids asked.

'Cuz she's a brick—ow—head!

This morning the younger children were playing in our yard together while everyone else was doing some sort of work around the house. The big girls were doing their "spring cleaning" in the basement, Andrew was working in the garage (but was going in and out of the house a lot (so he missed the moment)) and I was looking over the proofs of one of my mom's papers before it gets published. 

And then there was screaming. 

The kind of screaming that makes your skin crawl. 

The kind of screaming that tells you something bad has happened. Your baby isn't annoyed or hungry or uncomfortable; your baby is mortally wounded! Run, Mom, run!

I ran down the stairs and out the door and the second I got outside Benjamin pointed to Alexander and said, "He threw a brick and it just grazed Zoë's head. She's probably fine."

Zoë was standing between them, holding her head and crying. I pried her hands off her head to check out the "grazing," which turned out to be a bit of a goose egg, and then gently ushered her into the house (while dragging Alexander along behind us). I sat Alexander on the bottom stair and told him not to move a muscle and got some ice ready for Zoë's head. 

M...m...m...m...m....m...my corona!

Yesterday we planted a (victory) garden. It's small, but it's there.

We thought our trowel was particularly on point for the occasion:

Spooky stories

When I sat down to order a few books for my children last week, I'll admit that I somewhat selfishly selected some classics from my own childhood. Stories that I knew would bring back feelings of comfort and familiarity to me (with the added bonus of being able to introduce my children to these stories). Plus, I mean, older books tend to be a bit easier on the wallet than newer books are (as long as they aren't too old because then they get pricey again).

One of the books that I got was a collection of Robert Munsch stories.

Zoë thinks that his name is just plain silly (because there is no need for the 's' in his name) but that his stories are even sillier. At least, that's what she thought yesterday when we read through three of his stories that were new to her (we had a few of his stories in our library already). Today, however, we got to the story A Promise is a Promise.

This story is...not funny.

Chalking up friendship (and bike riding)

Today we all got dressed. Into clothes.

I know. Weird, right?

We spent a good chunk of the afternoon outside with our bikes (and then later with sidewalk chalk). The kids kept complaining that it was so hot but it felt nice to me—even a little cool with the breeze—so I was shocked when I checked the temperature to find that we were approaching 80°F! We were even warmer than Hawaii today (at least where Uncle Patrick was) and were much warmer than Auntie Abra or Uncle David who live where spring is still a distant dream.

You know that saying "it's like riding a bike," and how it's supposed to mean that once you know how to do something you'll never forget how to do it? Well, I'm not sure I completely believe that saying because I had to re-teach Benjamin how to ride his bike. Teaching him to ride his bike was somewhat challenging for...both of us...and we were both so happy when he finally learned how. He rode around our Spanish Fork neighbourhood as much as he could but then we moved.

And we left his bike behind because it was a piece of junk.

And then we bought him a new piece-of-junk bike after we got here, but it was a bit bigger and it's a lot hillier around here than it was in Utah and he was so intimidated by it (and I was so frustrated with his reluctance to get on it) that I gave up trying to get him to ever ride it.

But today I stood my ground and made him relearn how to ride. It took a lot of patience and tenacity from both of us, but we finally got him back in the saddle and once he committed to actually trying it was...just like riding a bicycle!

Here he is exercising his newfound freedom:

Taking a breather

My sweet sister saw an ad for a game online when we were in the midst of some potty training regression (thanks to our friend Daniel Tiger) so she decided to buy it and send it to us. She meant for me to hang on to it until Easter but given the chaos we've all just been thrown into (updates: California—the entire state—is on shelter-in-place and Athens (not too far from us) is also sheltering in place while Atlanta (Foulton county) has ordered all restaurants and bars to cease face-to-face interaction (though they can do take-out orders still)) she suggested we just open it and play it right away. So we did and it was hilariously fun!

Alexander's teeth

Here's Alexander's sweet face yesterday morning:

Alexander's dental appointment

Alexander and I bravely set out for his dentist appointment this afternoon. Leaving the house felt odd, and when we got to the dental office they were all in a tizzy because it was announced shortly before we left the house that all non-essential appointments (both medical and dental) were to be suspended.

"This is...essential...right?" I asked Andrew before we left the house.

Emergency appointments are essential. Sure. Yes?

We're all new to this weirdness (and may it never begin to feel normal, amen).

We got to the office and filled out a questionnaire about travel and symptoms and so forth and then we both had to have our temperature taken before they led us back. The receptionists were making phone call after phone call cancelling appointments (and pausing between calls to ooh and aah over Alexander and his poor wee face).

They took a quick (and probably unnecessary) x-ray and determined that his mouth should heal just fine. The gums will tighten around the teeth again and the bone will reattach and it will all be fine. Alexander will just need to be on a soft-food diet for the next couple of weeks.

The dentist said that even if his tooth had been knocked out (which it had not in this case; it's just a bit loose so this is mercifully information for the future) you can just rinse the tooth off in milk and then reinsert it in the hole and it will reattach in about 80% of cases. Which—you guys—just seems so crazy!

I actually seem to recall a PSA of sorts on the CBC (or NFB) about this very thing. For all those hockey-playing children, probably. It was a little cartoon with some animals—a beaver and moose, probably—playing hockey? And a tooth gets knocked out and they find milk and put it in and there's a song and...I can't seem to find it on YouTube. But...here's this gem: