Cats

Mother's Day

Mother's Day weekend

Art...and just a little more

Molly watches one documentary at bedtime every night. (Devyn would, too, but she tires earlier and wouldn't be able to stay awake long enough.)

Last night, Molly chose art as the subject, so I searched YouTube and proudly announced that we could watch one about Bernini. I wanted to learn, too.

But some documentaries just aren't appropriate for six-year-old art enthusiasts

The period -- 17th century -- would be problematic for her, since time is a difficult thing for children, but I figured that she could well take something good from the experience.

As she lay down and settled in, I finished up some activities. The narrator waxed rhapsodic about the exquisite details of some sculptures, and the end of the evening seemed to be going smoothly. I was wrapping things up while listening along and answering questions.

-- Did they have cameras back then...Then, how do they know what Bernini looked like?

-- What if I lived in that time and didn't believe what everyone believed?

-- How did people get to faraway places?

Then, the subject of Bernini's marriage, which at first seemed benign, quickly moved the documentary in a new, darker direction. The music changed and so did Molly's questions.

-- Mum...Mummy? Why does he have a sword?

Before I knew what was happening, swords and stalking, adultery and betrayal unfolded in reenactment as the story of Bernini, his wife, and his brother culminated in violence and more tragedy. Yikes.

I couldn't move quickly enough to the TV mouse to click the pause button.

Well, in the end, she hadn't witnessed any violence, and she wasn't terribly frightened.

-- Which one got hurt: Bernini or his brother?

Her questions were a relief to me.

-- Mum? Were there cars way back then?

-- No

-- Then...Why were there roads in the documentary?

(The reenactment -- the settings, the dialogue, the acting -- probably hurt the production more than it helped the viewer.)

So, lesson learned. I will want to watch the documentaries beforehand from now on.

Timing is everything

This morning, I find it necessary to talk to Molly (and remind Devyn) about certain relationship pitfalls, such as claiming a classmate hit you if he did not, actually, hit you.

Besides the obvious annoyance, inconvenience, and injustice for the accused (who will sit in time-out wondering how his life has come to this), there is also the risk that a teacher at school might not believe you should you report a subsequent (this time, actual) injury.

Hurriedly, I help Molly with her coat as Keith prepares to head out the door.

-- I'm sorry, but we really have to go. Now.

Clearly, this is a good time to blurt out what has to be the world's fastest retell of the story of Peter and the Wolf, and I rush, in a single breath, to the end:

-- And that's where the expression 'never cry wolf' comes from. Now. Molly. Do you know what the message of that story is?

-- Yes.

-- Good! Great! What's the message?

-- Stay away from wolves...Right?

Stunned as I am by this unexpected interpretation, I can't help but stare down at her with my mouth agape; my eyes, unnaturally pronounced.

Yet, we are losing precious time, so I force myself to blink and, then, choose my words carefully.

-- Yes, that's...a good. Takeaway. Message. Buh...

At this point, Keith rushes her out the door and I watch as they go. But I am still standing in the hallway, talking (still trying in vain to ask, "But what's the MAIN message?") because I don't want her to leave without it.

There's nothing, however, that I can do at this point as she disappears down the steps -- my five-year-old is going to school now, determined to avoid wolves. And it just kind of sets the tone for the rest of the day.

(written March 27, 2013...)

Oh, yeah, and if you get a chance...

It's Monday morning, Molly's return to school after a two-week break, and the four of us are getting ready for the day.

She doesn't respond as I announce that it is time for her to leave for school, but Molly often doesn't hear people when she's pursuing an interest. So, I am not surprised when I find her leaning against the princess sofa (our antique chaise longue) as she leafs through a book.

When I see its title, I cautiously ask if she intends to take the book to school.

-- Yes, I think so. For Victoria.

Victoria is a classmate who, it appears, is somewhat fickle in designating BFF status. Something tells me that I lack some critical information about Molly's plans for the day, but she really must leave now.

-- Okay, darling. Let's pack it up, then.

-- I'm going to give it to her at recess and have her read it. Then, she'll know how to behave.

I freeze. My mind races this way and that, searching frantically for a way to dissuade her from the sweet-but-misguided plan while nevertheless lauding this bold attempt to connect with a friend.

-- Well, what if you were to ask Victoria to read the book with you? Then, Victoria could learn about her mistakes without ever being aware of your [intended act of] kindness.

She folds the book under her little arm, furrows her brows, and sets about the task of going to school -- without disclosing her intentions.

I am encouraged by the fact that Molly reaches for books (just as Devyn does) in matters of conflict.

--

How To Be A Friend: A Guide to Making Friends and Keeping Them (Laurie Krasny Brown/Marc Brown)

March break

Bug Inventory

But a kite...?

Molly: How could there be a kite flown in the house?

Me: Well, I guess if you can imagine a big talking cat with a red-and-white striped hat, you can imagine a kite flying in a house...Hahaha!

Molly: (staring)

Me: See, because large talking cats in tall striped hats...don't...Hee..heh...I mean, they...

Molly: (staring)

Me: They're just ima...Hmm.

Molly: (staring)

Me: 'I bet, with my net, I can get those Things yet...'

I get it. Among other things, there's nothing about the house ostensibly preventing a strange, unrealistically depicted talking cat from appearing because if you can imagine such a talking cat, you could just as easily imagine one appearing in a house; but there are walls and a ceiling preventing conditions sufficient for lift, etc. in order to fly a (comparatively) realistically depicted full-size kite such as those in the characters' hands.

Still, she could have laughed condescendingly while avoiding eye contact or something, right? ;)

Babies don't text

Dog detective

This is what Devyn wants to read with me tonight. For the evening, she wants to set aside the other books that we're reading and read The Awful Pawful (Jack Russell: Dog Detective #5) by Darrel and Sally Odgers.

It looks cute and lighthearted in stark contrast to the atmospheric ghost stories (fiction and nonfiction) that we have been reading nonstop since 2011.

In a book

“It was late in the afternoon before I woke, strengthened and refreshed. Sherlock Holmes still sat exactly as I had left him save that he had laid aside his violin and was deep in a book. He looked across at me as I stirred, and I noticed that his face was dark and troubled."

The Sign of Four, Chapter 9
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Sherlock Holmes

“It is a mistake to confound strangeness with mystery."

- A Study in Scarlet

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

The Fire Cat by Esther Averill

Besides reading...

The girls and I are dyeing yarn with homemade dyes and knitting a blanket together.

BFFs

Gee, thanks.

Me: Do you have homework tonight?

Devyn: Yes, math...

Me: Okay, then, let's get started.

Devyn: Um, I always do it with Daddy...because it's very hard.

Molly on Minecraft

Ode to a butterfly?

Finally Quiet...