So I Guess Mammoth Burgers Aren't An Option, Either?

I'm NOT having soup for lunch today! It is like the Permian mass-extinction out there, it's so hot!

--Quote and picture by Ben

Look Kids! Parliament! Big Ben!

I had to drop off some paperwork at the home of a prof out in Nassau County this morning...sooooooo, it seemed like a perfect day for a beach field trip. Ever since our trip a week ago with LIGHT to the Theodore Roosevelt Nature Center, the boys have been asking to go back and walk on the beach. Ben wanted to see if he could find shark's teeth (more challenging than expected, as it turns out...) and more shark egg cases, while James wanted to prove to me that the water was NOT too cold for swimming.

After forcing the boys to repeat the words, "I understand that I am not going swimming today and will not continue to torture my mother with additional requests," (no, really, I made them say it) we were on our way.

Woo-hoo! Mapquest safely gets me to the the home of the prof! Then: Jones Beach Bound! I grew up as a Wantagh Parkway girl, personally--but who am I fooling? I didn't learn to drive until I left the Island, after I was married. So there I am tooling down the Meadowbrook Parkway...the boys are quizzing each other on subtraction math facts from the back seat because I AM JUST THAT ORGANIZED and have provided them with work during the ride...

Really (I ask myself at that moment), how do I manage to do it all so well? Pshaw, I explain to myself (as if I'm giving a red-carpet interview), nothing replaces God-given talent and sma--

"Oh, no..." I mutter softly.

"What, what?!?" comes the immediate response from the back seat.

"How am I going north on the Meadowbrook?" I ask myself. "We were going south a minute ago...before that Loop Parkway bit..."

"Mom, mom!" the first-born points out (because we just went over this last week in a lesson), "the beaches are on the south shore; you're going the wrong way!"

"Oh, look! There's a turnaround up here! We're fine, fine! Anyone want to tell me what kind of plant life they're seeing outside the window?" I ask, putting us firmly back on home school terra firma.

"Pine trees and bushes?" the first born responds.

"Any maple trees or oaks like back in our neighborhood?" I query.

And then: "Oh, drat." The turnaround doesn't get me over there! Where I want to be! I can see it BUT I CAN'T GET TO IT! ARGGGGGGH!

"Don't answer her! She needs to CONCENTRATE!" the second-born shouts out. For the record, yes: this is something I tell my children while we're driving, on a fairly regular basis.

"No, no!" I respond. "I appreciate you looking out for me, but really! This could be a great teachable moment!"

"No, mom! You're cut off! No teaching time minutes until you're in the parking lot! Capiche?" my shy child remonstrates.

I realize he's probably right. Oh, hey! Another turnaround! Woo-hoo! This one is working!

"All right. Capiche," I agree.

No, Really! This is What He Said!

Second and third grade children playing baseball is really a sight not to be missed. Much more exciting to my mind than professional ball. When a 7-year old catches a fly-pop? I don't care how jaded you think you are, you WILL jump up and shout! A big part of WHY you will do this is that it will happen perhaps once per game. It is AN EVENT!

And, anyhow: what is not to like about a sport where games end with scores like 18-15? Where there is almost no such thing as striking out? Where the star of the team hits a homer because the opposing side commits three consecutive errors? This is THRILLING STUFF!

We headed on over to the snack shack post glorious victory to get a celebratory tootsie pop.

"You know what part I like best about baseball?" the boy asked me.

"The fabulously good-looking and yet supportive fan base?" I ventured.

(eye-roll coupled with a giggle) "No. The part at the end when the team huddles together and shouts out, 'Go Bulls!'" (the team name). The boy nodded then. "That part makes me feel happy and confident."

(just me makin sure) "That's your favorite part, huh. What do you mean when you say confident?"

"Proud," the boy replied. "Proud to be a part of something."

You Know: When I'm Old, Maybe Shaving...

Jay got a letter from the pastor of our church today.

"You know, they are still asking you to join the children's chorus," I pointed out as neutrally as someone home schooling her children somewhat on the fly (and who needs to come up with a music curriculum) possibly could.

"The church music director thinks you'd be a real asset to the group. Are you sure you don't want to give it a try?" I continued, trying to maintain that nebulous tone between perky and panicked.

"...and I think you'd be great, too. You've got a wonderful sense of rhythm and a nice voice...it would be a way that you could give back to the community...by being generous with your talents..." (Too much? I'm going for subtle manipulation where the child doesn't realize he is being steamrolled. It's tricky...both of my children initially react to the novel with 'no'. There's a surgically-delicate emotional massage required to get past no to the world of "I'll think about it." If it's not done just right, I get the cognitive-emotional equivalent of the Berlin Wall.)

"I really don't want to mom. I'm shyyyyyyyy," the boy replies. "Church is just going to have to wait until I'm older and my shyness disappears."

Drat.

"Well keep us all posted on that, kay?"