Ok, I’m not exactly biting my tongue on this one, because I am writing about it. A girl on my Facebook friends list commented that the curriculum for her daughter’s home school program arrived and she (the mom, not the daughter) was anxious to get started. I commented that I used to threaten my kids with home schooling to keep them in line. This comment started a whole slew of remarks from people who (obviously) home school. (more…)
Today I was visiting my daughter and her youngest son, Tyler. He’s four. He reminds me so much of my youngest, Craig, when he was that age. Busy. Straightforward. He was out playing with his neighbor, Ella, who is a few months younger while my daughter, Erin, and I are visiting.
Tyler comes in and wants to look for frogs along the creek with Ella. Erin gives him permission. He gets out a bucket and goes looking for frogs. I don’t think he’s going to be able to keep frogs in the bucket, but that’s for him to find out.
Tyler and Ella come back a bit later with a bucket of rocks. Apparently the frogs weren’t cooperating. They had collected all kinds of rocks, but mostly smooth – like they had been tumbled. Tyler and Ella are going to sell rocks. They, with mom’s help, set up a rock stand by the house. The house sits about 60′ off the road. Soon they discover their selected spot is not particularly good for attracting customers, so they move the “stand” closer to the street. They’re sitting out there waving to cars (and getting a honk back from one car), but no one’s buying. I go out there to take pictures and talk to them. I point to one rock and ask them why they picked that rock. “It’s very heavy,” Ella said.
“How much do you want for the rocks,” I asked. With no hesitation at all Ella said, “Five dollars,” as she gave a knowing look to Tyler.
At four years, I’m not sure Ella even knows what five dollars is, but she’s not afraid to name her price.
Five minutes later, the kids have lost interest and are off on their next adventure. Ah to be four again!
I am one of those people who remembers things. While this is great when it comes to finding the keys to the car, in other areas it doesn’t serve me so well. There are things I’d rather not remember, yet they are there clogging up my thoughts. Ugh.
Ryan O’Neal mentions in Vanity Fair magazine that he didn’t recognize his own daughter and made a pass at her at Farrah Faucett’s funeral. That had to be embarrassing. How can someone not remember his own child, but the article goes on to say that it had been decades since they had seen each other.
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