Chapter Books

Big Laura Ingalls Wilder fan here. I have read all of her books at least once a year for the last thirty years or so, and still find them fresh and interesting. 

Now, there are shorter Little House books available, designed for young children. Each one excerpts an event from the full length books, simplifying and fully illustrating the event. The kids have a handful of these short story books, and seem to find them fascinating. After reading them over and over, I figured we should go ahead and try the "real" Little House books. 

Zoe is hooked. It's all she wants me to read, and she asks for chapter after chapter. I have to stop before she wants me to, every time. We're now on the fifth book. I do some editing on the fly, and lots of explaining, but she's soaking it up. Vincent gets a little bored with the long reading sessions (and lack of pictures), but he contributes to conversations about Ma and Pa and Laura and her sisters and their good old dog Jack. 

Vincent really wanted to contribute to the set up of Zoe's Little House paper dolls, below, but Zoe was understandably reluctant to let him handle the fragile bits. He doesn't know his own strength. 

People Parts

Vincent's scribbles have started to take a more deliberate shape. I couldn't quite make out the sailboat he drew, but his people are quite recognizable. He likes to name the body parts as he draws them. I can't remember if this portrait is of Baby Tewwidan (Baby Kerrigan) or Sistah. It's definitely not Daddy, who is faithfully drawn with a beard.

Darkness

Last night I picked up a friend to carpool to a monthly dinner date with a lovely group of ladies I have come to know.

As we drove along a dark road on the edge of town, the headlights picked out a boy running alongside the road. He frantically flagged us down. Sobbing, he begged to be let into the car, to please be let into the car, his father was going to hit him.

A second boy, somewhat more coherent, ran up. He breathlessly explained that people had been called, the cops had been called, he and his cousin just wanted to be safe. They both kept looking back the direction they had come from, anxious. I'd guess the boys were twelve or thirteen years old. They were barefoot in the gravel and blackberry brambles.

I called 911. An officer was already on the way. The dispatcher asked about another person: the sister. Where is the boy's sister? I can hear her yelling, said the cousin. Moments later she hurried up the road. She wrapped her arms around her brother, who was still distraught. They huddled against a fence under a sheltering tree.

The girl, perhaps sixteen years old, explained to me and to herself: I had to call the police. I had to. Our mom is...is...is not the best mom. Our dad is...is...is pretty strict. My brother left his basketball in the driveway, and my dad was upset. But I don't want him to go to jail. But I don't want him to hurt my brother. But I don't want him to go to jail.

A grandma showed up. The cousin's dad showed up. A law officer arrived. We left. Just down the road, we saw a man making his way up the shadowed shoulder. No telling for sure who he was, but he looked rough and angry.

I keep thinking about those kids, hoping they can find a more secure refuge than a stranger's car randomly flagged down in darkness.

Hide And Seek

Moustachioed

Shine On

Enjoy that sun! We've had an incredibly dry fall and early winter. Big picture, the lack of moisture is a problem, but it sure is nice to play outside in the sunshine. So far, the Christmas umbrellas have only been used as sun shades. Despite the drought, the kids manage to find mud in the yard. 

Sparkle Hands

Here's hoping your new year is as full of happy surprises as our house is full of glitter!