My Boy is Eight!

Gannon’s wish was to visit the National Guard Armory in our town.  He and Acadia and I biked there after lunch.

My first baby This young man was able to wear some of the soldiers’ body armor.  Gannon asked what it was made of.  The man started to explain in general terms.  Then Gannon asked, “Is it kevlar?”  (It was, in part.)  The man looked surprised that he knew that word.  The look appeared on his face a few more times during the visit.

Gannon got to sit in the cab of the trucks while the man (I wish I could remember his name) told us all about what things did what.  I would tell you here, but of course I don’t remember things like that.  Pretty much everything had initials.  I do remember that this particular truck carried a water purification system that was worth $300,000 and was capable of supplying the entire city of Boston with clean water.  Thirteen gallons per day per person.  See, I do remember some things.

Then we went to the playground, where the kids did all sorts of things and told me to watch.

“Are you really watching, Mom?”

This is why Acadia likes long hair.

“You’re supposed to sit right on the swing!”

“Okay, see, it’s easy.  You reach waaay up and grab on really tight.”

“Then you jump and PULL yourself up onto the seat.”

“And then you’re on the swing.  See?  Now you try it.”

“WWHHHEEEEE!!”   “Cadia!  Not like that!”

Oh well.  It’s all good.

I asked them to sit on the table so I could get a picture of them together.  Of course Acadia immediately throws her arms around her beloved brother.  Gannon pretends not to notice.

At first, anyway.

This is the best one I got of these two goofballs.  It only deteriorated from here.

“Gannon!  That tickles!”

“What? What tickles?”

“Oh, you mean this?  This tickles?  You mean when I do this?”

Gannon got done with the camera.  Acadia, however, could go on for hours.

But I thought we should probably call it quits.  When you start getting the roof-of-the-mouth shots, you’re pretty much out of good material.

Home From The Holidays

We came home from visiting Brian’s folks. The house was still standing, which I noted with nostalgia (we always said that when my parents and my brother and I came home from a long trip).  Upon entering it, however, we kind of wished it weren’t.

The cat, may she rest in peace, for whatever reasons had neglected to use the litterbox for much of the week. Instead, she used the floors.  In order to put our kids to bed, we had to navigate a hallway and bathroom filled with randomly-placed landmines of poop and vomit. While holdig our dozes and talkig like dis. We skipped the tooth-brushing that night. The less time spent in the bathroom, the better.

Brian and I got rid of the biggest (*GAG*) piles before we went to bed.  Praise God that He had nudged me to close all the bedroom doors before we left.

So then, with the moral support of two friends-in-deed, I began the major cleanup the next day.  UGH. In addition to the cat’s mess, I also got to experience the remnants of one of Gannon’s sleepwalking episodes. One where he thought he’d gone into the bathroom and peed in the potty, when in reality he was still in his room and was standing in front of a toybox.

Oh yeah, I also took the cat to the vet and had it euthanised*. Then I took it home and the kids and I buried it deep under the flowerbed.  After we had a time of sitting on the couch with it, petting it and remembering what sort of a cat she was.  We also took the opportunity to examine the general anatomy of cats without being gouged.  That part was Gannon’s idea.  As we sat on the couch, leaning over the dead cat between us, I felt like perhaps a huge blinking sign was over our livingroom, reading “PSYCHO HOMESCHOOLERS”.  It was a unique experience.  I can only hope.

The next day, as I was grumbling about the mess I was still cleaning out of the upstairs carpets, Acadia brightly and optimistically offered, “At least the cat’s dead now, Mom!”  Ah, a girl after her Dad’s own heart.

So yeah, our Thanksgiving was nice.  Then December started.  I am expecting the stomach bug and/or plague of frogs to be arriving soon.  As psycho homeschooler, we will dissect the frogs.  Maybe find a recipe or two for a healthy meal of them.  And do a lapbook on the Exodus of the Hebrews from Egypt.

*I did not do this without much thought and agonizing emotion. And a check for $88 to the vet.

What Do Vermonters Do With All Those Leaves?

We look at them for a while.  We tell each other how the colors aren’t as bright as years past, or how it’s a good year for color, or whatever.  We rake them.  We throw huge quantities of them over the bank.  And we watch our kids jump in them.

Isn’t this what everyone does with leaves?

Fall Pictures by Gannon

I just love Gannon’s view of the world.  He likes to take pictures, like I do, but he also likes to do videos.  He made several episodes of a Lego saga today, and I wish I could share it with you all.  Maybe if you are really nice to me, I will do that later on.  In the meantime, here are some photos by my boy, aged 6 years and 51 weeks.

We have a lot of wires in our neighborhood, don't we?

Yes, I allow my children to play in the street.

More playing in the street. And yeah, she pretty much does run everywhere.

Nate used to love looking at this sign, front and back.

If you’re not in New England right now, don’t you wish you were?