Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Child development

Mrs. Mills neglected to educate her students on an essential bit of information in child development class: three-year-olds are not yet capable of learning the game “Mother, may I?”

I took my brothers to the back patio this afternoon to teach them that time-honored game. Nathan caught on quickly; he usually does. William, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to grasp the concept very well.

“William, take four hops toward me,” I commanded. He proceeded. “Oh no, William,” I quickly stopped him. “Don’t forget to say it.” He grinned and quickly said the required words. Permission granted to him, William began hoping. “One, two, three, four.” Unfortunately, William’s efforts had taken him nowhere. He had forgotten to hop FORWARD.

I enlightened him on this necessary element to the motion, and he tried again: “One, two, three, four, five, six …” I arrested his progress and reminded him that the number specified was four.

And this process continued for the duration of the game.

“Mother, may I?” is really an unfair game. The “mother” holds the outcome in her palms. William, therefore, soon found himself the winner of a game and proudly claimed the role of “Papa.”

“Courtney,” he said. He stood for a few minutes, scratching his head and looking around. “Go to the front yard and get a stick and kill that wasp.”

Perhaps Mrs. Mills should be informed of the deficiency in her class content.

Saturday, June 25, 2005

Locked out

It's yet another late night, and once again I opt against bed. Perhaps I might find a few more posts to read. But alas, apparently all my friends have been as negligent in their postings as I have. Strange, though, that ALL of them would have given up blogs for the time being.

And this goes on.

Then, one morning, I have a few minutes to spare. Not wanting to make the trip upstairs to my computer, I settle at my family's and type in the URL. Shock. I have comments! Ludwhig's blog. He has three more posts! Karen's, Michaela's, Lynn's, Joshua's -- the list goes on. In fact, all hosted by blogspot have new material.

My apologies for my absence.

Any ideas why my computer has developed this strange aversion to blogspot?

Saturday, June 11, 2005

Soccer games and symphonies

A perfect day. Soccer in the morning. Good friends and laughter all around. Then, warring against the summer heat, a water fight. Four water hoses, plenty of water bottles, mock indignation, and thinly veiled pleasure.

An evening at the Meyerson with the Dallas Symphony provides an idealistic end. I sit back, surrounded by friends and a host of pleasant thoughts, Tchaikovsky, Bach, and other composers lending the perfect accompaniment. Ahh.

Friday, June 10, 2005

Silence

I slept with my bedroom's two computers off last night. The silence was almost oppressive at first. Strange, how we become so accustomed to constant noise that we can scarcely bear to go without it. Then I lay still and simply listened. How much we never notice amidst our silence-drowned environment.

Monday, June 06, 2005

Life goes on

I apologize for my respite from posting. I've never been one to speak when I have nothing to say though.

Life is going well. I finished psychology. British Literature started today, and I enjoyed it. My professor is one I had previously and greatly enjoyed. Hopefully, this class will prove as beneficial.

Graduation hit our little community with a vengeance this year. My childhood friend left for college last week, providing me with an unnecessary reminder of how much I despise goodbyes. My graduation from high school marked the beginning of a long string of departures. Now hardly any year will leave the neighborhood unchanged by another farewell.

Our neighbor, Dr. Hironaga, has been teaching my little brother preschool all year. Today she began summer school with him and her four-year-old son Jason. When Nathan woke up today he hugged me and said, "I finally get to go to school." He had been out of school for about a week. Hopefully, this passion for learning will accompany him throughout life.

My parents are doing well. My sisters are doing well. My brothers are doing well. I'm doing well. And that's life, in a nutshell.