OK, one set of keys has been recovered (a fellow I serve with at AWANA found them and brought them over last night, hurray), one still to go.
But in the meantime, life goes on. I've recently read the snort-cranberry-juice-through-your-nose-while-laughing I'm a Stranger Here Myself: Notes on Returning to America After 20 Years Awayby Bill Bryson. Bryson always gets my belly laugh, and this book was particularly pleasant because I could relate to so much of the commentary on American culture, and because unlike some of his others (A Walk in the Woods springs to mind), the language was clean. I actually attempted to read this on an airplane recently, and my dignity was only saved by the fact that both my seatmates were snoozing while I shook with barely-contained mirth. Brilliant.
Ian has read a couple books he loves this week, but I'd like to highlight one called George Washington's Socks. Goofy title and all, it's quality historical fiction that a picky eight-year-old boy couldn't put down.
Eliza and Daddy (and sometimes Ian) are reading through The Long Winter (Little House)at night. Shouldn't the LHOP series be part of every childhood at some point? Particularly when it's shared with a parent? I think so.
Caroline, well, she does things like this. I call it a "self-guided Montessori education."
Step One: Chop celery.
Step Two: Grasp celery morsel with improvised chopsticks.
Step Three: Consume celery.
Yeah, we'll keep her.