“Saul, wait!” Lily laughed breathlessly as her bare feet slung sand behind her. “I lost my sandals and the sand is on fire!”
“Not as hot as the boardwalk,” her brother yelped, dancing on his toes from sand to board and back again. “Hurry up, it’s too hot to be out of the water!”
“Well, you’re the one who just had to come all the way down here,” Lily grumbled. “We could have just swum in the pool, you know.”
“Yeah, but who wants to do that when the whole big ocean is waiting?” Saul reached the shade of the dock and jumped to swing from the beams. “Just look at it! Have you ever seen color like that?”
“Yeah, yesterday, when we came for swim.” Lily sniffed and attempted to imitate a flamingo while examining the soles of her feet. “Now that we’re here at the ‘whole big ocean’, are you getting in or not?”
“Come on, Lily, I thought girls were supposed to be romantic.” He dropped to the weathered boards and perched on the railing beside the steps she was about to descend. “It glows on its own, don’t you think? There’s magic in it! Maybe it’ll turn us into denizens of the deep, doomed to ride the waves for all eternity.” He struck a dramatic pose.
Lily rolled her eyes. “Waves aren’t in the deep, idiot.” She shoved him so that his balance on the railing failed and darted down the steps into the brilliant water. “Catch me if you can, you big sea monster!”
We have officially started our homeschool summer. No more assignments. No more schedules. No more educational obligations. It’s wonderful and relaxing, and we are having so much fun!
When chores are finished the kids drag out my old violin lesson music and open the organ to pick out the little simple songs on the keyboard. Twinkle Little Star, Happy Birthday, and Frere Jacques ring from the walls in various key mixtures as they practice reading a staff and figure out which notes match which keys. But it isn’t a school day.
Legos and paper cover the floors in several rooms as parades of weapons, fantastic creatures, and marvels of engineering pass my workspace. The geometry of biology and architecture shape paper and form moving lego joints through the process of experiment and failure. Scenes and characters from books and history come alive in inspired creations from the tools of childhood. But it isn’t a school day.
My six year old clamors, “Read this book to me,” and I propose she help me read it instead. She sounds out every word on the first page, four whole lines full of syllables and digraphs and challenges. We high five at each hard word conquered, then I read the rest of the story about a hard working garden spider. One page has a picture of a moth, and she wants to know how moths eat, so we look it up. Two YouTube videos and twenty minutes later, we know not only how but what they eat, and can identify a full dozen different species of moths. But it isn’t a school day.
We record a regular podcast reading famous stories aloud, stories that exist in the public domain but are no longer favorites for entertainment. Today we neared the climax in a gripping tale of aliens, suspense, and danger, a story written in a time and culture long forgotten. They laughed, exclaimed, squealed, and held their breath, completely absorbed in a world they have never experienced. But it isn’t a school day.
The tantalizing smell of sausage and eggs wafts from the kitchen, where my daughter works blissfully alone. Eggs, milk, and cinnamon have been whisked to perfection for soaking soft bread to be browned. Meat had to be thawed and shaped, and the the pan kept to the perfect temperature for even cooking. Ingredients had to be measured and counted to ensure enough food for seven hungry stomachs. A platter fills with golden-brown slices of French toast beside perfect gray circles of sausage. But it isn’t a school day.
My seven year old is exploring the yard. A storm is blowing in, so he watches the cloud movements and waits for the first drops to fall. He scours the treeline for mushrooms and edible wild greens, bringing me handfuls that Daddy will need to identify when he gets home just in case he got it wrong. He picks a handful of bright flowers to put in water, delighted when I tell him their name and musing about what they remind him of. But it isn’t a school day.
Tonight as they drift to sleep we will read a chapter of The Fellowship of the Ring. The poetry of joyful hearts will create music to soothe them to sleep. Pictures of courage, love, and goodness will form the framework of their dreams. The simplicity of the triumph of good over evil will shape their souls to seek good things. But it isn’t a school day.
Tomorrow we will still be on summer break. We will have no assignments, schedules, or obligations. I wonder what we will learn; it’s sure to be exciting.
The world is full of wars, conflicts, political arguments, societal inequities, and many other unpleasant things we humans deem important. We fixate on everything that is wrong, twisting ourselves into knots trying to figure out who we are supposed to hate, who or what is the enemy. We bury our noses in news, gossip, and arguments while life goes on around us. This week has brought a particularly negative onslaught, but as loud as it has been, it’s really a very small part of life around the globe. Many seemingly tiny, insignificant events occurred to bring joy.
My last baby turned six years old. As mommy, every birthday observed is a little bittersweet, as pieces of myself grow to be more and more independent of me. For my big girl, every birthday is exhilarating. It means she is one year older, with new privileges and skills on the horizon. It means cake and decorations that she has chosen to reflect who she is in this moment. It means people she loves gathered around her focused entirely on her for at least a little while, a privilege often craved by a child in a large and busy family. For my little diva, one short party is just not enough, she’d like a few days! It means presents, all of which from ponytail holders and handmade pictures to a new doll are equally delightful. Because of all the joy it brings, my baby turning six was one of the most important events happening in the world.
My ten year old son lost his first molar. The tooth fairy has not had occasion to visit our house in some time, although several teeth are being subtly encouraged to invite her, so this was quite an event. We had to take pictures and make sure every family member knew about this momentous milestone. Notes had to be written with dubious spelling but painstaking care so that the tooth fairy would leave the tooth for the treasure box that every little boy stashes somewhere. The prize left alongside the hoarded tooth, a simple rubber chicken target game, brought hours of side-splitting entertainment for every kid in the house, since the chicken darts managed to stick and dangle from the oddest places though never from the intended target. Because of all its simple joy, my son’s lost tooth was one of the most important events happening in the world.
We live in the country and rarely mow our yard until well into spring. Every year it becomes a carpet and then a prairie of wild-growing things filled with happy pollinators. This year the clover has been especially abundant, and my little Irish-blooded crew loves to hunt treasure in the leaves. The finding of three four-leaf clovers in the space of half an hour caused an uproar to rival election day victory. These precious gems were displayed with aplomb and recorded on screen for the benefit of anyone not immediately present. All three have been carefully pressed in the big dictionary for posterity, in case such a rare find is never repeated, while the heralded searchers rest on their laurels. Because of the innocent joy it inspired, finding clover treasure was one of the most important events happening in the world.
These critical events of my everyday life leaves little room for me to worry about the hazards of politics and war. They leave me with little desire to fight over disagreements and hate my fellowman. I pity any who cannot bring their focus to even the simplest of blessings or appreciate even the smallest of celebrations. Where else can we find a way up and out of misery? Where else can we find the ingredients of peace? What could possibly be more important?
Baby has a busy day ahead, fixing problems from cats in trees to burst pipes. A superhero’s work is never done. Not even dirty diapers and naps can keep her down for long. But what will Baby do when her nemesis turns up in her very own nursery?
This book is perfect for any young child who loves superheroes. They’ll fly around your living room saving the world like Superhero Baby. If a little sibling rivalry interrupts the fun, well, Baby has that covered too. Enjoy a few giggles before the kids drift off to sleep along with Baby.
Frog and Toad are best friends. When one gets into trouble, the other is always there to rescue him. When one has a problem, the other is always there to help him solve it. Whether planting a garden, cleaning a house, or trying not to eat all the cookies, neither does anything without the other. Everything becomes an adventure when they are together.
This book is a timeless classic portraying childhood, innocence, and friendship. My seven year old learned to read with Frog and Toad, and they are still his favorite book friends. What child hasn’t impatiently waited for seeds to grow or pretended not to be afraid of something scary? Your children will laugh, learn, and grow right along with their new amphibian friends.
The Star-Belly Sneetches hate the Plain-Belly Sneetches and enforce strict segregation. The Plain-Bellies are understandably unhappy until a stranger shows up with a very special machine and promises to fix their problem by giving them stars. Unfortunately, the real problem proves to be deeper than marks on bellies, and the stranger’s machine wreaks havoc on Sneetch society as they race each other to preserve the status quo.
This classic by Dr. Seuss is a great way to teach kids the destructive nature of hate, as well as how superficial our differences really are. In this particular volume it is accompanied by stories like “What Was I Scared Of?” and “The Zax,” highlighting the silliness of being ruled by selfishness and fear. Kids will giggle with delight at the goofy rhymes and zany characters, all the while absorbing principles that will make them compassionate, empathetic individuals.
A most unusual present shows up under the tree on Christmas Eve and begins to wreak havoc! Presents get eaten, the feast gets stolen, even the decorations are shredded. No one knows what to do! Even Alice Jayne finally locks that croc in the cellar where he can’t destroy anything else.
But no one should be cold and alone on Christmas Eve! First Alice Jayne, then the rest of the family (including Aunt Figgy whose toes were bitten) joins the crocodile in the cellar with their own little piece of Christmas comfort to share. No one realizes the disastrous truth until morning brings a new surprise.
This book is the perfect holiday book for little kids. The funny, silly, and unexpected plot will have kids giggling uncontrollably, and the colorful illustrations will keep them busy while parents handle all the Christmas secrets. That is, if mom and dad aren’t reading and laughing along with them.
The whistle blew, a cheery sound in the crisp air. Even the steam from the pipe crystallized into gray mist that blended with the distant mountain peaks. The world around lay white and silent, the train with its crimson cars and bright window frames a brilliant spot of color.
Inside the warm cars passengers laughed and talked, excited to be sharing the experience of travelling to see family and friends for Christmas. Many carried gifts wrapped in bright fabrics or butcher paper and tied together with brilliant ribbons or twine. Children escaped their distracted mothers and ran up and down the aisles, shrieking with laughter.
Suddenly the train slowed, then stopped. Worried passengers lifted windows to peer out, oblivious to the frigid air that poured into the compartments. Some complained with offended vehemence when the conductor passed through with a hurried explanation that a tree had fallen across the track. Would everyone please be patient while the engineers cleared the track? It would be a bit of a wait, but they would be underway again as soon as possible, never fear.
A couple of strapping young fellows rushed boisterously out into the snow to volunteer their services with an ax and make themselves generally underfoot. Some of the women took advantage of the halt to relieve muscles cramped from long hours on wooden benches that vibrated with the motion of the wheels. They trudged up and down the snowy tracks, wrapped tightly in voluminous cloaks while their irrepressible children dashed about soaking their clothes in snowdrifts and forgetting hats and scarves in the general excitement.
The whistle blew sharply, calling for a mad scramble back into the cars before a puff and a rattle set them moving again. “William!” A voice drifted through the steam as it rose above the icy trees. The small boy leaped to his feet and clattered from the room, tossing a glance over his shoulder at the train waiting on its track under the tree before shutting the door on the Christmas wonders to come.
Amy loves to draw, but like many little artists, she isn’t very good at following instructions. Wonky circles and scribbles become pandas with personality and pirate princess crocodiles. Sometimes, if the instructions are too boring, she imagines herself as something else and forgets to draw at all! No matter what anyone else says about them, Amy’s drawings make her happy.
This book perfectly captures and celebrates the free spirit of childhood. Through Amy’s imagination children see the beauty and possibility of imperfection. They will connect with the pencils that roar and crayons that scribble nothing in particular just because they can. Best of all, they will spend hours giggling over an absolutely delightful story.
Last week was long. My husband and I had so many responsibilities and obligations that our days began to blur together. There wasn’t enough time for daily chores or time with kids, and certainly not enough time for fun.
We ended the week with a wedding. My husband officiated, my five year old participated, I monitored kids, and the kids were stuck tagging along with nothing much to do. By the end of the day we were too tired to do much more than sit and stare. But there was the polaroid photo booth.
Such a simple thing. A few old hats and old fashioned handbags. Costume jewelry. Thrift store elbow gloves. A little attitude. And a moment of fun so desperately needed.
The polaroid photo looks a little bit like our busy week. It’s blurry, scarred, and has glaring spots where the exposure was too high. It’s the perfect vessel to capture that simple, silly, crazy, exhausted moment. It’s perfect for our life. Here’s to more polaroid moments.
The Word Worker 