Literary Critic

Picture credit: Phoebe

The Adventure Museum

We had a snow day yesterday. I used it to sleep in a bit. The kids did not. Sophie was awake at 5:30 in the morning. Phoebe and Cooper followed close behind. When I got up Phoebe was so excited to show me what they'd been working on. While I was asleep, they created a museum.

Recycled paper, made by Cooper:

Cool rocks and a painting by Phoebe:

Real petrified wood:

A coin from New Zealand:

This was not a free museum. Admission was a quarter that will then be donated to pediatric cancer care. Yes, seriously, it's a fundraiser through Phoebe's school. Here's the first quarter they earned:

Dog and seashell:

Sophie's artistic representation of the above dog and seashell and her signature:

The curators, plus Peter:

Two Percent

According to immunize.org, two percent of the people that receive the chicken pox vaccine will still get chicken pox, though it should be a milder form than if they hadn't been immunized. Guess what?! Peter is part of that two percent.

He felt completely miserable on Friday. He complained about how awful the day had been at school, how cold he was, how much his head hurt, how he didn't want to go camping with the scouts that night. When he, Bryan, and Cooper finally walked out the door (Bryan and Cooper were joining for the evening), I was glad he would have a chance to see friends and maybe feel better.

But that didn't help. He was still miserable. Worse, he was vocally miserable. They stayed through setting up camp and eating dinner, then Peter opted to come home with Bryan and Cooper rather than stay the night in twenty degree temperatures.

He seemed to perk up a bit on Saturday, but he was still dragging.

On Sunday morning he showed us that his stomach was covered with red spots. They became more numerous throughout the day. Because Topher had had them two weeks ago, the incubation time was right for these to be chicken pox. He stayed home from church.

Our doctor squeezed us in yesterday and confirmed our suspicions.

Peter is pretty itchy, but he's making the best of it. He argued that his hands needed something to do to keep from scratching and he quickly suggested video games. I thought he was convincing and said yes. Bonus for him: he can't go back to school until next Monday at the earliest.

I really hope none of the other kids are part of that two percent.

The Scary New Fascination

Curiosity can bite if not closely monitored...

Tickle Me Topher

He's feeling much better. Also, he's very ticklish.

The Think Tank

Peter has a big project due tomorrow. He's been working on it at school, but there's a lot still not done. His friend is coming over after school for them to finish. Why here? Because we have the green screen. That's right, he's making another movie.

Last night I sat and listened to Bryan and Peter talk through the plan for the movie. I threw out a few comments, but it was mostly them bouncing ideas back and forth. Peter explained his vision. Bryan explained important elements of film making and some practical things to keep in mind while they film. There was a discussion about editing and adding multiple layers of movie to the green screen.

I think it's going to be cool.

The Driver

The Big Picture

I was playing with Topher yesterday in the playroom and looked up to see this.

Peter spent a few hours yesterday planning out what he must do to complete all the merit badges needed to be an Eagle Scout. Planning is not a strength that he currently has, though I believe he can develop it. After reading through the requirements for one badge he looked at me and said, "So, what happens if I decide not to do this?" I told him it's his choice if he completes it or not. Then he said, more to himself than to me, "But it'll look really good on a college application, won't it?" Then he went back to planning.

Awesome Sauce

I had planned to serve leftovers for dinner one night last week. I pulled the plastic container of slightly dry pasta out of the fridge and thought, "How can I make this better?"

I retrieved a bag of mozzarella from the freezer and, as an afterthought, grabbed the package of frozen apple turkey sausages that were in there as well. A green bell pepper in the fridge looked a little sketchy so I cut into it to make sure it was still good, then realized I should probably use it immediately so it didn't go bad for real. And of course onions pair well with peppers, so I got one of those out of the pantry too.

I really wasn't sure what I was making, I was just going by an instinct I didn't know I had.

I opened a can of tomato sauce (not pasta sauce) and poured the contents into a hot skillet, then added the diced onion and pepper. While they cooked, I cut the five sausages into bite-sized pieces, then tossed them in also. It looked too dry so I added another can of tomato sauce. Pepper, garlic, oregano (but not basil because we were out), and a little salt completed the sauce. Then I tossed in those leftover noodles and let all the flavors get to know each other while they heated through. Finally, I threw in some handfuls of mozzarella and several shakes of Parmesan and gave everything a thorough stir.

It smelled amazing. One kid would only eat the pasta, one would only eat the sausages, the other two ate it all. As Bryan ate he commented that it reminded him of pizza. Then, with recognition dawning on his face, he said, "Not just pizza. Really good pizza. Deep dish Chicago pizza!"

I thought it was delicious.

The Waiting Game

When Phoebe and Cooper get home from school I say something like, "Hi! How was your day? Tell me about it." And then they do. They give me details and tell me about things their friends said and did and provide a nice glimpse into their day.

When I ask Peter about his day he shuts down. He says, "Fine. I don't know." This started during sixth grade. And it was frustrating. There was this huge part of his day that I knew nothing about and he had no plans to clue me in. I thought about how I could get him to talk to me. I prayed about what I could do differently. I researched what other parents have done in similar situations.

Good news, I found something that works.

Now when Peter gets home, I don't ask him anything.  I say hi, welcome him home, but that's it. At first I was anxious that I would never learn about anything that went on at school, that without my prompting he would just stop telling me stuff.

But then, after a few days, he started talking. And as the months have gone on, he's told me more and more. There are days that I really want to ask what happened at school, but I take a deep breath and wait. Sometimes I need to wait longer than others, but it still works.

Patience pays.