My son's snowshoe outing at Hartley Nature Center was canceled this morning because of the subzero temperatures. I was all set to accompany his preschool class as a chaperone. The news disappointed both of us.
We found a good substitute in sitting in our sun-filled living room, listening to some really good music and perusing my son's collection of Spiderman and other super heroes books.
Peas on the Butterknife is a compilation of songs by Chequamegon Bay-area musician Bruce Burnside, who plays very sweet banjo and mandolin. As a native West Virginian who has heard some of the best old-time fiddle and banjo music at that state's Folk Festival, I found Burnside's music, especially his Civil War tunes, sending me into a deep reverie about home.
As my son transitioned from super heroes to looking up in his father's Lake Superior Rocks and Minerals Guide the rocks he has collected, my reverie was broken. Ah, the joys of being a mother. It's time to read about basalt and epidote.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
No Easy Readers for this boy
"Mom," my son yelled excitedly as I was making my way downstairs this morning, "I can read this!"
I expected to see him holding Dr. Seuss' "Fox in Socks" book a friend was reading to him last night. Instead, he was holding my lastest book, a New York Times bestseller by Anita Diamant.
"The Red Tent," he read, pointing to each word as he said it.
I expected to see him holding Dr. Seuss' "Fox in Socks" book a friend was reading to him last night. Instead, he was holding my lastest book, a New York Times bestseller by Anita Diamant.
"The Red Tent," he read, pointing to each word as he said it.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Keeping secrets
My son awoke early today.
He was excited about sneaking down into the kitchen with his Daddy to cook breakfast for me. The meal was beautiful -- pink pancakes with cranberries topped with maple syrup and red, white and pink candy hearts.
It was delivered with a huge Tinkerbell valentine, one of those ones where the image shifts, and Russell Stover chocolates in a small heart-shaped box covered with red roses. He was very particular about which box of chocolates they buy for me.
My son had worked hard at keeping these plans a secret from me all week. Actually, he had two secrets to keep. He and I had written and produced our own Goosebumps book called "Night of the Beating Heart" as a present for his Daddy.
While the pancakes were cooking, my son came upstairs to announce that I couldn't get out of bed yet. I protested, saying I wanted to get Daddy's presents out of the closet so we could read the book to him when we went downstairs.
"We're not going downstairs, Mom," he whispered to me. "We're having breakfast in bed."
He was excited about sneaking down into the kitchen with his Daddy to cook breakfast for me. The meal was beautiful -- pink pancakes with cranberries topped with maple syrup and red, white and pink candy hearts.
It was delivered with a huge Tinkerbell valentine, one of those ones where the image shifts, and Russell Stover chocolates in a small heart-shaped box covered with red roses. He was very particular about which box of chocolates they buy for me.
My son had worked hard at keeping these plans a secret from me all week. Actually, he had two secrets to keep. He and I had written and produced our own Goosebumps book called "Night of the Beating Heart" as a present for his Daddy.
While the pancakes were cooking, my son came upstairs to announce that I couldn't get out of bed yet. I protested, saying I wanted to get Daddy's presents out of the closet so we could read the book to him when we went downstairs.
"We're not going downstairs, Mom," he whispered to me. "We're having breakfast in bed."
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