I've started writing specifically on our homeschooling adventures over at the HSLDA blog. I'm all pleased over here because my first post went up today and I feel like such a real blogger now. :-)
You can access it and future posts any time from hslda.org and scroll down to the "blog" link. Well, any future posts after they have been posted, I mean. There will be more, and at regular intervals too, but right now it's just the one. I'll be impressed if you can get to them before they go up: and will probably ask to borrow your time machine.
Thursday, February 12, 2015
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
MY apple tree, all mine
We were listening to the Andrews Sisters' "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree," when Meg commented. "What a selfish singer she is!"
The lyrics, for those of you not familiar with this WWII classic, go "Don't sit under the apple tree/With anyone else but me, anyone else but me, anyone else but me/ Don't sit under the apple tree/ Till I come marching home." I usually consider this a fairly reasonable request, but then I mentally file this song under "Love Songs," or possibly "Soldier Love Songs," which have a different standard of selfishness than "Toddler Life." Apparently. The recipient may or may not cooperate, but it's more about whether they're waiting for the soldier to come home in a romantic sort of way, and less about possession of the apple tree. Per se.
Anyway, I asked Meg why it sounded selfish. "Because she won't let anyone sit there but her."
There you go.
Sunday, February 01, 2015
Meg and Kate updates
Meg is five years and one month old, and she can read on her own. She knew letters and sounds at two, so I was confident it would come eventually, and for the past year or more she has been putting the sounds together laboriously. I am pleased to report the skill is here. No printed matter is safe - she'll sound out chalkboards, packaging, web pages, yarn labels. "What does that say? Wool----spun." She can follow along the song overheads at church, which coincidentally makes her more likely to sing and less wiggly. (YES!) She is reading the species names on all her animal puzzles and books. (Yes!) She reads the Dick and Jane books to herself, because she likes them and I don't. (Yay!) She reads board books to Kate. (Yahoo!) So basically this development is thrilling to me.
Jonathan read Meg the first chapter of The Phantom Tollbooth and distressed her by shutting it without putting in a bookmark. She was astonished when he opened it right back to the correct place.
"Daddy, how did you do that? Are you MAGICAL?"
Meanwhile, while Meg reads everything that will hold still, Kate has started moving. All. the. time. She goes everywhere, grabs everything. She pushes dolls around in the doll stroller (she loves dolls), pulls all the books off shelves (she loves books), drags things off tabletops (Mommy's toys are so interesting, and is that coffee?). She climbed up onto the couch by herself (she loves the couch!). She brought me a whole pile of craft paper (because paper is so cool), having located the drawer, opened it, and helped herself. She's learned to wipe her nose with a Kleenex and trot over to throw the dirty one in the trash, which is adorable, and also I keep the Kleenex up high now.
This afternoon Kate mysteriously appeared all wet, and we thought perhaps she'd gotten Meg's water bottle? The dampness just smelled like water, so we weren't too worried until I went to take off her wet things and discovered squelchy toilet paper and splashed water all around the toilet. The toilet had not been flushed. It was disgusting. That girl got a bath so fast she didn't know what was happening and everyone, especially Meg, has been informed that the toilet MUST be flushed, I'm not even kidding, and also SHUT THE BATHROOM DOOR. ALWAYS. The Nodwick blogger, about three years ago, ran a post about the sirens who live in dishwashers and toilets, and sing a song only toddlers can hear. We don't have a dishwasher, but apparently we have an especially alluring cadre of them in our toilet.
In the "just cute" file...
Me to Kate: "Can I interest you in a mouse and a maraca?"
Kate took them and started shaking both.
Jonathan read Meg the first chapter of The Phantom Tollbooth and distressed her by shutting it without putting in a bookmark. She was astonished when he opened it right back to the correct place.
"Daddy, how did you do that? Are you MAGICAL?"
Meanwhile, while Meg reads everything that will hold still, Kate has started moving. All. the. time. She goes everywhere, grabs everything. She pushes dolls around in the doll stroller (she loves dolls), pulls all the books off shelves (she loves books), drags things off tabletops (Mommy's toys are so interesting, and is that coffee?). She climbed up onto the couch by herself (she loves the couch!). She brought me a whole pile of craft paper (because paper is so cool), having located the drawer, opened it, and helped herself. She's learned to wipe her nose with a Kleenex and trot over to throw the dirty one in the trash, which is adorable, and also I keep the Kleenex up high now.
This afternoon Kate mysteriously appeared all wet, and we thought perhaps she'd gotten Meg's water bottle? The dampness just smelled like water, so we weren't too worried until I went to take off her wet things and discovered squelchy toilet paper and splashed water all around the toilet. The toilet had not been flushed. It was disgusting. That girl got a bath so fast she didn't know what was happening and everyone, especially Meg, has been informed that the toilet MUST be flushed, I'm not even kidding, and also SHUT THE BATHROOM DOOR. ALWAYS. The Nodwick blogger, about three years ago, ran a post about the sirens who live in dishwashers and toilets, and sing a song only toddlers can hear. We don't have a dishwasher, but apparently we have an especially alluring cadre of them in our toilet.
In the "just cute" file...
Me to Kate: "Can I interest you in a mouse and a maraca?"
Kate took them and started shaking both.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
