Apres le deluge

December rain

Here's good medicine for waking up on the wrong side of bed (because every side of the bed is wrong at 4:30 a.m.).

Henry (opening the back door and looking out onto this bleak, bleak December morning): "If you listen carefully, you can hear the music the rain makes!"

The last gasp of November

Yesterday:

Two boys in a boat

Today:

What are you doing, James?
"Us working!"

Thanks giving

I admit that the idea of a self-conscious "gratitude practice," much touted as the secret to happiness, has rubbed me the wrong way since I heard of it. I won't go into why, but you know what? I'll get over it.

Without further ado or apology, here is the working list of what Henry, James, and I are thankful for this week (I leave it to the reader to sort out the authors of specific entries):

1. Babies.
2. Food: Fruit! Turkeys! Chicken with pizza sprinkles!
3. Henry and James and Peter and all the other parts of the family. (Henry would like to note especially that this includes Grandmama. Auntie too.)
4. Knitting! Knowing how and being able to afford the yarn.
5. Flowers! In the yard and right here on the kitchen table.
6. Good books, and the ability to read and understand them.
7. Good shoes, and feet that don't hurt any more.
8. Dreams and mysteries.
9. Good places to go, like Griffy Lake, Lake Monroe, Wonderlab, and Banneker.
10. Places we haven't been to yet but can hope to go someday, like the Ocean, Afghanistan, Gary, Kotahoka (it's in the south and has a lot of oceans in it), Chicago, and the North Pole.
11. Friends: old ones, new ones, nutty ones, nice ones.
12. Friends: Isaak, Willa, Ida, Graedan, Josh, Oliver (except when he's being too rough).
13. A warm and safe house to live in. Not only that, but a second house that will also one day be warm and safe. Relatedly: big windows, tall ceilings, southern exposures, and pawpaw trees. And paint chips to dream over.

Brother to brother

Henry just took this picture of James, with the instructions: "Make a funny face."

Mission accomplished, as they say.

A learned herpetological dialogue

Me: James, do you want to tell Henry what you did this morning?

James: My went poop! In the potty!

Henry (not yet impressed, but willing to keep an open mind): How big was it?

Me: It was big!

James: Like a boa constrictor!

My new favorite book

"So," I say one day last week after lunch. "I feel like drawing a picture of a gnome."

"Great idea, Mommy," says Henry, leaping up. I bring in a basket of crayons and paper, and he gets busy.

By the time I am ready to sit down, he has produced a picture of a one-legged gnome with googly eyes, a tripartite beard, and a properly pointy hat. I am delighted. Henry's usual subjects when he sits down to draw are monster trucks and Army tanks, produced by the score, and I will admit that to my eye they lack the human interest that reels me in.

I propose to color Henry's picture in, while he works on more gnomes.

"Now you make one," he says, offering suggestions for my composition as I work. "How about another gnome there? How about a gnome family?"

"Mommy! I know!" he says after a bit. "Let's make a book!" He runs out of the room and comes back with a stapler. We assemble our pages, and he staples them together.

"Let's call it Gnomes Book," he says. I tell him the letters, and he writes them down.

"Now we need letters for each page." I suggest he tell me what he wants each page to say, and I will write it down. We disagree slightly about the humor and interest of nonsense words, but once we're done, I have to admit that he was right. He suggests that I come up with my own words to go with the picture I drew, and I think we can all agree that this is where the story really flags. Still, Henry is so pleased with the idea of a tree stump house that he doesn't mind the dullness.

When we're done writing, he decides the plain back cover is wasted space, so with a practiced hand he sketches a gnome car. To avoid confusing the reader between the two covers, he also suggests adding "FRONT" where indicated. Finally, he wants the authors to sign their names.

"Mommy, I am so so proud of myself!" he says. We dance around the living room, and read the book three times in a row. James wakes up from his nap and comes to see what the fuss is all about. We read the book to him, and he laughs most gratifyingly at the right parts.

***

In other news, during my long blog silence, we have bought a house, and Henry has started preschool. And now I think we are all caught up.