Category: Play

Playing School v. Real School


Yesterday was so peaceful. We played school.
Today, I was up early anticipating some time alone to blog and email friends and prepare for a writing day; sort of forgot about the two cakes waiting on the counter to be decorated for real school’s cake decorating contest. It was bottom of the barrel around here … what could be scavanged from cupboards to decorate cakes, not to mention the cakes themselves were so moist only I could frost without eviscerating them in the process. It took me eleven minutes to smear white frosting on one round cake. “These cakes could win the ‘most pitiful’ competition.” The kids riffed on that theme for awhile, but bless them, they weren’t in the least discouraged. Apple-Apple took her time and planned carefully, “Autumn tree with roots,” and Albus chucked things on randomly and then declared that it was a composting cake. (Both went with the “eco” theme.)
I should post photos, but honestly … pitiful. We had five minutes left over in which to eat breakfast, dress, and run to the walking school bus. Poor Kevin was tasked with driving the cakes to school (yes–cakes, not children, how’s that for eco madness).
Now I’m upstairs for writing day. Feeling resistant because this last story isn’t yielding easily. I’m digging through the cupboards dragging odds and sods off the shelves and tossing the mess onto the blank; a composting story, I suspect, rather than “autumn tree with roots.”

It’s Raining, It’s Pouring

Tropical downpours turn our sidewalks into raging creeks. After supper, the older kids strip down and head out to do some puddle-jumping. Across the street, a fellow watching the rain from his front porch shouts, “Used to do the same thing when I was a kid in Newfoundland!”

Witching Hour

Have been worrying about how I’m going to balance the multiple demands of that delicate witching hour, 4-5, now that the weather is gorgeous and my toddler wants to play outside with the big kids. Can’t be in two places at once. Well, this may be my fate (and our neighbours’): me shouting every minute and a half out the open windows, “Who can see CJ??” Thank heavens for good fences.

On the other hand, my shouting is probably the least of our neighbours’ noise concerns, given the cacophony of construction orchestration going on outside our front door. This is the clearly marked “Road Closed” sign, which I ran out just now to photograph because it WILL NOT LAST. In fact, Kev informs me that the line-up of pylons has already been dismantled by some enterprising driver in a hurry. I am striving not to let it bug me lest I morph into one of our neighbours, whom I shall refer to as The Mayor of W Street, who lives to be the bearer of bad news, and is on a quest to smite those who commit all and any minor by-law and traffic infractions. He’s also sometimes generous, and this afternoon left for us, without a word of explanation, this little red wagon.

Free-Range Children

Dinner conversation (with Fooey). “Oops! Don’t worry, Mommy, you can clean it up, and then you can go and get me some more.” “Sigh. I am not your personal slave and servant.” “Well, I need a servant.”
After-dinner conversation: “Can we go outside to play?” Uh, yes. Yes!
Spotted through the window: husband kicking soccer ball. Repeatedly. Using formerly broken leg. A wee bit of wincing. See evidence here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XOkyU4yctrU

And on another topic altogether, file this under things I never imagined doing: pulling out a tooth, not my own. In the dark. Whilst the child in question remained in her bunk bed. “Mommy, this tooth hurts too much to sleep.” “Well, what I can do to help?” “Can you pull it out? Please?” Small moment of silence. “Mommy, that’s the wrong tooth. That one isn’t even loose.”
For the record, the one that was extracted successfully, after much arrghing and some gore, was the one that had started out loose. Loose-ish, in my opinion. But I think she wanted it out mostly so she could try drinking with a straw through the gigantic hole at the bottom of her mouth.

Best Toy Ever

We get our groceries delivered. Yes, I know that sounds decadent, but it costs less than ten dollars and they carry everything into our kitchen. Okay, that is decadent. Who am I kidding. But look, included in the price of delivery is the Best Toy Ever. Peek-a-boo.
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