A Conversation at Breakfast.

Alice: When I get bigger I want to have a baby in my tummy.

Me: (as I'm scurrying around trying to get kids fed and lunches made) Ok, you can do that when you get bigger.

Alice: And I want to have big bubbas too. (mama's bubbas has been our epithet for boobs...it often comes up during breastfeeding)

Dad: Like mom's.

Alice: Mom's are on the small side. I want some like Libby's mom. (In my defense, Libby's mom just had a baby)

Jane Notices Things

There's ALWAYS a white butterfly in the lavender. And Jane ALWAYS finds it. I think it might live there.

Meat III: Mouth-Watering Beef from our Backyard.

So, while the actual death of the cow, next door, was easily more emotional than the deaths of a dozen roosters, the meat from that cow was…beefalicious! (That’s a made up word comprising of the root words: beef and delicious) We had our first steer steak and I am delighted to report that it was heavenly. And even though I cried when I saw the steer fall onto the carpet of straw in our neighbor’s back yard, I felt good about eating it (compared to the meat I buy at COSTCO). I know that, like our chickens, these cows quality of life was so much better than the killing fields of packaged beef. Our beef for next year is going to be an even better step forward. Instead of buying 4-H beef, we are going to be farming our beef. Farming? you say…yes, farming. Our neighbors and some other families (including us) are going to buy the steer and let them free range on some property just south of here. It will be about half the price and the cows will be grass-fed. I’m a little excited at this prospect and proud to feed my family meat that I’m raising. Besides, it just about fulfils all of my “Little House” dreams…if someone will just get me a white ruffled apron and a bonnet, I’ll be in business.

A Letter to my Son's Teachers.

Dear Mrs. X and Mrs. Z,

I am writing to you about my son, I want you to know him besides as the boy who “doesn’t like worksheets.” He was born thoughtful and respectful. He needs time at home and by himself to recharge each day. He has a very active imagination and, at home, when I can’t find him…he is usually outside, under the willow tree, experimenting with water and dirt. He loves to learn things about Vikings, scientists, astronauts, Antarctica, Greenland, ships, sailing, oceans, and spends many late-night hours in his room perusing the encyclopedias that his nana and papa sent him. He loves to ride his bike and he loves to have some sort of costume on (lately it’s a muscle shirt, an Indiana Jones hat, and a clear backpack—filled with rocks and ropes and useful things like that). He is astutely aware of his sisters and their activities and while he doesn’t enjoy princesses and baby dolls—he allows and encourages his sisters to imagine and create in their own worlds. He plays pirates and Jedi knights with his cousins and they are very talented with swords and ropes. He’s artistic with legos and has this amazing ability with constructing just about anything he needs.

You tell me that he spaces out during instruction and just sits there quietly while the other children studiously fill out myriads of answers to myriads of questions on myriads of worksheets. Most likely he is soaring through the stars in the Millenium Falcon or sailing east in search of Aslan’s country on the Dawn Treader. I’m not sure how to make him do worksheets and stay on task, but I do know that if he’s interested…nothing can keep him from finding the answers in the encyclopedias, the library, or through experiment. Just don’t make him hate learning…because, up until now, it has been the sole purpose of his life.

Sincerely,

a concerned mother.

P.S. I will not be taking him to the doctor to have him labeled and medicated.