This was one of our best field trips yet! We went to a local organization that teaches kids about space. For about an hour they talked about the physics of flight (in a very simple way), and then the kids got to make their own rockets and launch them into the air.
The day before the last space shuttle launch, this couldn’t have been more perfect timing.
We were lucky enough to schedule triple haircuts at the salon where I get my hair cut. In one quick hour, all our children looked fresh again.
I had to giggle, as we were the only ones in the salon, and it looked like they were all getting prepped for some sort of television show.
I should note that Ellery adored the whole experience, and I predict will be a girl who will adore spa days. She just couldn’t stop smiling.
(Some photos taken by my amazing husband.)
I love our little town.
This week Neko participated in a FREE weeklong puppet camp at our local library. The kids spent the week crafting puppets and learning their stories.
As this sort of thing is right down her alley, Neko took the puppet-making one step further, sourcing her own material and teaching herself to sew in order to achieve her vision. Chanelling a bit of Jim Henson, that one.
I’ll have to take better photos later, but I must tell you even our beloved Ms. Teri said she was impressed.
The summer curriculum has moved on to the days of the pioneers. This was a perfect time to head out to a historical park I’d heard about, but never visited. A huge facility, they offered basket making, candle dipping, and countless demonstrations.
Shep lost a tooth while we were there, because he can’t seem to lose teeth at home.
Neko and Ellery bought period outfits to wear that day (Shep declined), and wore them until bedtime. Back in the thick of my own Little House phase, my mother made us matching Laura, Mary, and Carrie dresses. (There are pictures of us somewhere in a Japanese tourist album with my father in downtown Philadelphia. He was sporting a long beard and his suit that day, and I think they thought we were Amish.)
I want to start whistling the theme to Little House on the Prairie when I look at that last photo.
Because I clearly don’t have enough to do, I’ve embarked on a small summer social studies curriculum in these parts.
For me, social studies was always a challenge.
There were all these dates that I could never remember. And all these white guys named John, Sam, or George. And then, for much of history, there were no photographs, which made it extra intangible.
Anyway, I thought this summer would be a good opportunity to do some hands-on learning about our world.
This week: Native Americans!
We read a whole slew of books, watched a few DVDs, and then, to cap off the week, I took Neko to see an outdoor drama about Tecumseh.
I made sure to get tickets to the backstage show, where they explained in detail about the guns that don’t shoot bullets, and how they pretend to fight and fall off cliffs. (Did you know most fake blood is made out of shampoo because it cleans easily out of clothing and hair? Fact of the day—check!)
I thought for sure that would take the edge off.
But I was wrong.
However, I did discover that no one really uses the “crying room” for evening performances. And it’s an excellent place to go to muffle the noises of gunshots and to discuss how the Settlers moving into Native American land is a lot like if some other family showed up at our door and told us they were now going to live in our house. So it wasn’t all bad.
Next week: Pioneers! (Where we’ll try not to hold a grudge, and just get excited about Laura Ingalls Wilder.)
It’s toad season. Neko is beside herself with excitement. Each summer we seem to catch and release the same toads, as we began recognizing certain markings. Our house is a bit like a toad day spa, with fresh water and captive meals. Last summer Leaper and Sweet Pea were our regular visitors.
This is the first toad of the season, and she has been dubbed Philomena by the eight-year-old with an ever-maturing naming strategy.
I know, you’re probably thinking, “That first photo? What in the world is that?”
And, yes, my friends, you are right. It’s a horrible photo that looks like nothing. And that is the whole point of my story today. That big pile of sticks, remnants of the big wind storms, looks like absolutely nothing.
Let me back up for a moment.
We have this chicken named Blob. (Yes, she’s a girl. And, yes, that is her name. This is what happens when you let young boys obsessed with video games name chickens.)
If Sarah Palin hadn’t gotten to it first, Blob could have defined “going rogue.” We have no idea when she started laying eggs last fall, because she always laid somewhere in the woods. At first I suspected she was a dud in the laying department, but when the first snow rolled around, I caught her in nesting box. It was this huge gotcha moment followed by celebration.
So she laid in the coop all winter.
But once spring rolled around, she went back to her old ways. One day Tom found a few eggs, laid delicately on the seat of the tractor.
I’ve been noticing the absence of green eggs in the coop lately. It’s left me wondering.
Then today Neko was mucking about in the yard and suddenly started screaming, frantically pointing to the big pile of sticks. And there, in the midst of the debris, lay SEVENTEEN GREEN EGGS.
In case you don’t do chicken math, that’s nearly a month worth of eggs.
Of course, we had throw them all away, because they don’t come stamped with an expiration date. And I suspect she doesn’t lay in a methodical left to right order.
This is the chicken that is going to live until the age of 10. In addition to staying close enough to be tripped over, but just far enough away to slip past when I need to shuffle her into the coop, she will taunt me with her covert egg laying, scoffing at the whole cost of feed vs. cost of eggs ratio. I suspect we will grow old and cranky together.
There’s some nugget of a sitcom here. Golden girls with a poultry twist.
Always a fantastic way to kick off the field trip season. Thanks to all who swam, cooked, laughed, bar tended, and kid wrangled. Supa fun.
(Also, happy birthday to my amazing father. Love you!)
