Going through the archives cleaning up in preparation to print the blog for memories, and happened upon this picture of Brynning and The Tire. A gift from a friend and highly recommended as a all-purpose piece of playground equipment, it was originally intended as a sandbox. We never managed to purchase the sand, but the children have spent hours upon hours in, on, and around The Tire. They tried to dig to China in the middle, raced one another around the edge, and enjoyed countless other games with it. If you know a farmer, ask him (or her) for an old tractor tire. One of the best pieces of playground equipment we ever acquired!
Once upon a time, David and I had four children. And that was The Point - the point where people decide there is clearly something wrong with you, because no normal person would actually choose to have that many children. Two is, of course, perfectly reasonable and acceptable; everyone wants a boy and a girl. Three is not inexcusable, especially if your two older children are the same sex so that you were obviously trying for the one you didn't have yet. But four...well. I'm not certain why four is considered to be so outrageous (and the comments have only gotten worse since number 5 came along), but it is more than our current national average of 1.9, and deviating from the abnormal norm is the problem.
When I was pregnant with Matthew, David was talking with a friend who expressed some shock upon learning we are expecting again. He paused, then said "Just make sure you don't do what my grandfather did. He had 13!" And the David responded (because he's like this) "Wow. That's something to shoot for!"
We woke up to a thunderstorm this morning, and Brynning has been sitting at the table counting seconds between flashes and rumbles. He kept asking what x was divided by 5, (division being still a work in progress). Apparently current childhood lore holds that one calculates the distance to the storm by counting the seconds between flash and rumble, then dividing the result by five for the number of miles.
Now, when I was a child, I was taught that the number of seconds equals the number of miles, no division required. Having explained this, I was just about to say "Let's google it and find out which is right" when my husband announced "Let's derive it. We know the speed of sound, so we should be able to figure it out." And then proceeded to sit down and do just that.
What makes this even more surreal is, that every scientist who reads this is probably thinking "Of course; that makes perfect sense" and not even realizing how totally bizarre that is. Because the speed of sound (or light, for that matter) is not something that the average person just knows off the top of his head, let alone how to "derive" the answer to the previous question.
P.S. The Mad Scientist has concluded that dividing the number of seconds by five is essentially correct.
The end of a long journey, the beginning of another.
Everyone has been asking "Where's Iain?!" So to assuage the curiosities of all, and set rumors to rest, let me reassure you that my sweet 2-year-old was, indeed, present at my Confirmation. He held my hand during the entire ceremony (all 15 or so minutes). Then when the camera came out, he burst into tears and ran, and refused to be comforted, so we took the picture without him.
We've finished studying the American Revolution, and are moving into a new unit on American Government; quite appropriate, it seemed, with elections only a few weeks off. So today we discussed the three branches of government and the concept of checks and balances. We're making a lapbook, so Brynning put together a mini-book on the three branches:
His concept of the function of the Executive branch may be more accurate than he knows. (For the record, I did explain that "to execute" in this instance is supposed to mean "to carry out". He came up with the firing squad on his own.)
Today the Yarn Harlot posted about her book signing in Phoenix. Benjamin is supposed to be in bed, sleeping, but he wandered out (he does this at least once a night) and happened to be looking over my shoulder when my jaw hit the floor over Hannah's Chuppah. (It's towards the bottom. Scroll down and think to yourself "This is what knitters without children can accomplish.")
He wanted to know what it was, so we followed the link to the wikipedia page, and I showed him the pictures. See the one that taken during an actual ceremony? He wanted to know why there were so many people there. I explained that it was a wedding, and lots of people come to weddings. He said "Why would you want so many people at your wedding? I think that would be a little disturbing."
Brynning attempts to slide his plate under his toast (still on the toaster rack) so as not to have to put down his book. Discovering this is not possible, he moves to the next obvious solution: Find someplace to set the plate. (Never the book!)
I'm a homemaker, crafter, knitter, wife to the Mad Scientist who is (finally, mercifully) done with grad school, and mother of five children aged 9 and under. I take one day at a time, and blog as I am able.