A Very Nearly Tea

I have been sort of teaching the kids German for a long time. Or rather, I have been feeling guilty about not teaching them German as much as I should for a very long time.

Mouse has always been sort of interested. Maybe that is related to my sort of commitment. But she's never been all that motivated. She plays the games, sings the songs and otherwise doesn't really seem all that into the whole thing.

But suddenly she is. She has mapped out an aggressive school plan, and German language and history is featured highly. She has found a website with German sounds, grammar and vocabulary that she has been spending quite a bit of time on, and keeps asking me how to pronounce things. She's been chanting the bits of the songs she remembers and bookmarked a history of Germany I showed her. I think she even started reading it, but the printer is acting up so she couldn't print it.

I was pleased, if a bit baffled, by the sudden intense interest.

But then she showed me her notebook she is making. It is all decorated with locks and keys and "keep out" type messages. Odd connection, I thought, until her triumphant announcement after I looked over all the pronunciation keys and vocabulary she had copied.

When I'm all done, you won't be able to hide anything from me! I know what you guys are talking about and birthday presents and EVERYTHING!

Yep. We long ago had to leave off spelling things to each other. But Mouse is determined to take the ability to just say it in German away as well.

A casual conversation in the car, meandering through the day. Mention of a babysitting class at the hospital starting for ten year olds. Brief mention that I thought this class might also help Mouse in her relationship with her siblings because it might help her see them in a different light. Gentle words and patience go a long way in earning someone's respect, I tell her.

"Pleasant words are an overflowing of honey, sweetness to the soul and healing to the bones." ~Proverbs 16:24

We've had this conversation so many times before, but this time is different. She seems to actually be listening and thinking.

"So it is like treating others the way you want to be treated?"

"Yes. Just like that."

She turns contemplative. I leave her with a single thought.

"You know, L.E. adores you because you always treat her with such gentleness."

We pull into the drive and I begin getting everyone in. Pajamas and teeth brushing. Straightening and gathering cleaning supplies to bring to the house. The children are strangely quiet as I hear them chatting in the kitchen and I go to check.

Spread out on the floor are the instruction brochures for her K'nex, the K'nex Bear has been asking her to play with five times a day for weeks. The little ones are looking through the brochures and picking things for Mouse to build while Bear makes a helicopter.

"A little honey goes a long way," I say and Mouse smiles.

My daughter is sitting behind me as I type reading a book. A book I recommended to her. This is huge, people. Huge enough to share with the world. Huge enough to postpone dishes . . . bedtime, even, though it is already 10:42 PM.

(Oops. Maybe I shouldn't admit that, especially since I didn't really notice until I checked just now so I could share the time.)

See, this sweet child is a little too much like her mother and that independent spirit is a bit too strong at times. Not that independence is a bad thing all on its own. It is the one reason I don't worry about her as much as I do my younger children. I know that no one will ever make her do anything she doesn't want to.

It's just that if mom recommends something, the recommendation is met with a shoulder shrug and suddenly she'd sooner read Bug's Dora the Explorer books than any book mom said she might like.

When I recommended Nancy Drew, I may as well have handed her The Federalist Papers. OK, so I like The Federalist Papers. I'm weird like that and hope she will be someday, too, but it is probably a bit much for a ten year old.

Who am I kidding? This child drags out Annals of the War and reads it when she doesn't have a good book about horses. Of course, that is because I told her last year that she wasn't old enough to understand it and she has set out to prove me wrong.

See how these recommendations work?

At any rate, a friend of hers mentioned something about Nancy Drew and suddenly we are looking at the online catalogs of the local library system to try to read every single one of them in order. Oh why did they have to come out with that silly movie? It has revitalized Lincoln's interest in the young sleuth and they are all checked out almost all the time.

It was just checked in! It was just checked in! We have to go to the library now, mom!

Now maybe she actually does remember that mom recommended Nancy Drew first and thus has let down her guard a little. Maybe it is because there is a dog on the cover and she needs some book about dogs to review for her e-zine. I don't know . . . and confess I don't really care.

She's reading Cracker! because her mom said she might like it.

Driving to a church picnic, a had one of those "Coke out your nose" kind of moments. Except I wasn't drinking any Coke at the time which is a good thing because I would have had to explain to the two young ladies in the back seat what was so funny. And I don't really know how to explain Queen to someone else's child.

See, my daughter and her friend began singing. First it was some country song, then a few lines from a movie. Then they changed genres abruptly and shook the car with their rendition of "We Will Rock You."

We will, we will rock you...

Stamping out the beat on the floor of the car and banging on the seats. Then the others joined in. Even little L.E. Fant clapped to the beat and Mudpuppy squealed with delight. Driving around lost with the windows down, the other drivers must have thought we were challenging them to a fight or something, but it brought back memories.

How many events did I attend in my school days where that rhythm and those words echoed throgh the stadium? It is like a battle cry.

But then my daughter had to ask where the song came from. And her friend, full of impromptu answers said,

"I think from the Huskers."

There's nothing quite like a baby to melt away the stresses of the day . . .


Even if that baby is one of the stresses of the day. Everyone asks me if he's a "good baby" and I really want clarification. What is a good baby? I mean, he does everything a baby should. He eats; he sleeps; he poops; he cries. In fact, he cries a lot . . . almost any time he is not being held.

It makes it hard to get much of anything done. But then, I'd prefer holding a baby over dishes, anyway. After all, it isn't just doting grandmotherly types who have a fixation on counting baby toes.

My little Mouse too has noticed the calming effects of sleeping babies. I don't remember what she was upset about.

But then, neither does she. A testament to the calming effects of a small baby sleeping contentedly in your arms. As is the flicker of a smile.


So I ask, is he a good baby? Even with five loads of laundry to be folded because he doesn't want to be laid down?