1m2aSandbox

A few days ago I was walking home from school with Cora and asked, “Did you have a good day at school today?”

“Well,” Cora said matter-of-factly, “One kind of big thing happened. We were sitting on the rug for Circle Time and Sara started saying that I smelled like dog hair. She kept saying it over and over, getting really loud, and all the kids started laughing. And it really hurt my feelings. And so I went into the corner by myself to cry, and then the teacher told Sara to knock it off and then said I could come sit next to her. And mom,” she turned to me, bewildered, with a sad look on her face, “We don’t even have a dog! How can I smell like dog?”

Oh, my baby.

Apparently Cora is reading now.

And I missed it.

Monday night Cora shut herself in her room for a long time, and when Brian finally went to check on her, Cora said, “Daddy, I’m reading now! Do you want to hear it?”

Being a good dad, Brian said, “Of course I would!” while thinking “reading” meant “I have the book memorized and will now recite it out loud to you”.

And that’s how it sounded at the beginning, but it soon became clear to Brian that Cora was really reading. She’d skip a word and he’d say, “No, what’s this?” And she’d stop, look at it, and figure it out one letter at a time. Yep, reading.

Maddie’s always loved riding her scooter to school; she’s not quite a bicycle girl yet, but adores zooming along on her scooter, especially since she’s learned a few “tricks” like, well, braking. While Cora was in preschool she’d tag behind on her three-wheel faux-scooter to get Maddie to and from school, gamely pushing along but sensing something was different. And while she’s been patient about her rickety princess scooter, this weekend we finally upgraded Cora to the official Razor club.

Brian and Cora hit Target on Saturday and came home with a bright pink Razor, complete with wheels that light up if you go fast enough. Cora was ecstatic and scooted happily around the house on the wood floor all day. Maddie, a bit envious at how shiny and new Cora’s (otherwise identical) scooter was, handled her jealousy well and managed to be happy for Cora.

Sunday night Cora said, “Mommy, can we stay after school and scooter on the blacktop a bit tomorrow?” The school blacktop, I should explain, is sometimes a fair-weather stomping ground for Maddie’s gang; last spring we’d bring snacks and scooters and bikes and let the kids go crazy in the gorgeous weather for almost two hours while the grown-ups sat on blankets on the grass and chatted. Cora would play with her younger sibling friends or ride her bike a bit, but never had a “big-kid scooter” with which to join in.

Cora was clearly ready to roll.

Earlier this month a mom was arrested in Texas for allegedly allowing her kids to play on scooters unsupervised outside; the charge was child endangerment. Her two kids, aged 6 and 9, were scootering on their cul-de-sac while she says she was watching from a lawn chair. After being taken to jail – her kids clinging to her legs and sobbing – she was held overnight before the charges were dropped.

Apparently an anonymous neighbor made the phone call.

Last Friday we took the girls to their first live football game: our local high school was having their homecoming and playing, of all the luck, mine and Brian’s old alma mater. So how could we pass that up?

Football, in Texas, is just SLIGHTLY less important than religion to most people, and to the rest of the people, it IS their religion. Football is not taken lightly here, and our high school just spent 63 MILLION dollars on a new stadium. Don’t get me started.

But school spirit was high that night, and the girls couldn’t have been more excited if they were going to a Dallas Cowboys’ game. They wore school colors, and brought spirit towels and pom poms. They were ready.

As I pulled into my driveway Tuesday night from work, the sun was setting and shadows were lengthening all around me. Twilight was upon us, and it was nearly the girls’ bedtime. I idled in the garage a few moments, waiting for the girls to do their typical rush-out-the-door they always do when they hear me come home.

Nothing.

And then in the silence, I heard the faraway sound of girl’s laughter – coming from the back yard. And that’s when I realized –

It’s back yard weather once more.

Monday night one of my advanced acting students approached me with tears in her eyes. A high school junior, she’s been one of my favorite students for years and I was immediately concerned.

“Miss Jen, I really hate to have to tell you this, but I think I’m going to have to drop your class. I just don’t have time for it right now.”

Stunned, I said, “You don’t have time for it? Does the class meet at a bad time?”

She shook her head “no”. “I can see this is going to be a demanding class and I don’t want to let you down with what you want me to accomplish as far as learning lines and keeping up and not disappointing my scene partner and I just don’t have time to learn the stuff and it’s the only time all week that I look forward to – this class is “me” time – but I don’t think I can do it!”

And it all came pouring out.

The croup is making its rounds here, and between that and walking pneumonia I’ve given the following homeopathic help out so much that onion farmers are lining up to be my very own political action committee. So I thought I’d post it up here and share the love.

For the record, I didn’t make this up. I first read about this over a year ago on Keeper of the Home, and before that we probably had a few hundred thousand people do it back when people didn’t have instant access to a CVS and looked in their back yards for some relief.

And finally for the other record, I’m not a doctor, so don’t listen to me. You know what I mean. If you or your kid has a medical issue, seek professional help and for heaven’s sake don’t say “But this chick I read on the internet said to . . . .”

With the caveats out of the way, here goes.

There’s a parable in the Bible about a rich man heading out of town, leaving his estate in the care of three servants. To one servant he gives a small amount of money, to another a medium stake, and to another a small fortune. When he returns, the two servants who’d been given at least a modicum of cash had taken their portions and exponentially increased them; but the servant with the least had buried his cash in the back yard, afraid of losing it. The rich guy, not surprisingly, was displeased and took the small amount away from the poor guy and gave it to the servant who’d been given a huge amount in the first place, as a reward for being such a good steward of his property.

When Maddie was born and I held her in my arms, I looked at the fortune God had just placed in my hands, and vowed to be a good steward with His property.

Maddie and I were talking over her day yesterday – what she did, what she studied, and so forth – when she said, “Oh, Mommy, good news! Elise and I have already picked out what we’re going to do for the school talent show this year.”

Which is, I should tell you, in May.

“Oh, that is good news! But why are you working on it so early?” I (reasonably, I thought) asked. 

Yesterday, school finally caught up with Cora.

Hard.

We sort of made it through the afternoon and dinner and Cora began to create an elaborate make-believe game – a sure sign in my girls that they’ve got some stuff to process. All was going fairly well until Cora blatantly took a bag of Maddie’s and then refused to even share it with Maddie. When I gently but firmly insisted, that was the. Last. Straw. And Cora fled to her room, sobbing uncontrollably.