Don’t worry, it’s just that Canela was nosing in on a photo shoot by N after she and M made a shelf for the outdoor mud kitchen.

Don’t worry, it’s just that Canela was nosing in on a photo shoot by N after she and M made a shelf for the outdoor mud kitchen.
N often “reads” to H kids books, and a while back she started reading Dick and Jane books and others like them, but the other day her reading was really exciting–and it showed on her face, too. With only a little help, she sounded out the “wrench” dressing bottle’s “No high fructose corn syrup” (hearing her get “syrup” right all on her own was the best), and then she picked up the little drinking cup from the bank and figured out “Money View” (“view” was another best).
Proud papi, here.
As if our country would be dishonored by its leaders doing the will of its people.
As if we have the moral authority to punish wrongdoers around the world.
As if red lines don’t serve most to back their artists into corners.
As if Brian Higgins isn’t right.
An annual church retreat tradition of ours is to make artistic bulletin covers, which are then photocopied for a Sunday morning service. One of my designs from retreat earlier this month was used this past Sunday:
As M was signing out of school after she and the girls visited my classroom the other week, an assistant principal asked N her age.
“Five,” N said cheerily.
“Oh, you’re five! Are you in kindergarten already or will you go in the fall?”
“I’m homeschooled.”
“Oh! Is your mommy teaching you?”
“I’m doing it myself.”
H isn’t quite there yet, but it’s coming:
On the chalkboard outside the hotel bar: “The worst you are at thinking, the better you are at drinking.”
Yup.