Little m Long a

The feeders have been filled and the birds are happy.  My cats believe, however, that I was merely setting traps.

Let the games begin!

 It’s been a few weeks, so I thought I would revive a fledgling feature on my blog, Story Time with Zoë.  It’s not that we haven’t been reading much lately.  Quite the contrary.  Zoë has moved on to some very interesting chapter books and has thoroughly enjoyed the adventures she is able to take in her mind with these new gems.  Even Zane is stepping up his game.  He just doesn’t realize that maybe he’s not supposed to be reading as well as he is and although he will struggle with new words and how to pronounce them, he has yet to become frustrated in any endeavor.  His latest undertaking is the Book the First Lemony Snicket’s a Series of Unfortunate Events.  Although he needs help with many of the words he has yet to indicate frustration and plows ahead. 

Funny thing.  We have attempted to restrict the television viewing around here with varying degrees of success.  There are many days, I am proud to report, that the television has remained off for the entire day.  Oh there are times when we all break down but the kids seem to appreciate the tv time more and comply without resistance when I ask them to turn it off.  If I had to put a number on it, I’d say on average less than one hour of television per day.  So the other day, I tell the kids to turn off the television and without a complaint they do.  Not two minutes had passed when I walked into the room to find this—–

(Totally unbidden, Zoë and Zane look for a book to read.)

I have got to believe we are doing something right.  Anyway.  To the task at hand.  This week’s edition of Story Time with Zoë brings me back to one of my favorite children’s books by one of my favorite author/illustrator duos, Margaret Wise Brown and Clement Hurd, The Runaway Bunny.  I had Brown’s Goodnight, Moon practically memorized by the time Zoë was just a couple of weeks old.  Margaret Wise Brown’s stories seem to have a magical way of captivating the attention of my kids even after having heard them countless times over the years.  My kids have always made a game of finding the little bunny in each of the colorful illustrations by Hurd in The Runaway Bunny yet for some reason, I am drawn to the pencil drawings.  

So grab the kids and your copy of The Runaway Bunny and enjoy this week’s edition of Story Time with Zoë.

Of late, I’ve been following a few bloggers that have been crazy enough to undertake this Project 365 (+1), the plus one on account of this being a leap year.  Absurd idea.  Essentially, you post a photograph each and every day of the year.  Some will post only a photo while others have gone the extra mile to caption the photo or even provide a brief explanation or story.  Wow!  I’ve neither the time, will power or dedication to get involved in such a project.  My hat is off to those that do and I have enjoyed the daily glimpses into their lives. 

One of the participants in the Project is Pat from Annoyingly Boring?.He’s posted some great shots of his family, neighborhood and New England countryside.  Recently, though, he has begun to needle me with his photos.  Goading me, if you will.  Challenging me.  You see, a few weeks back he posted a photo of himself filling his bird feeders.  And just a couple of days ago a photo of a very nice goldfinch at his freshly and lovingly filled feeder.  Basically, Pat has taken off the gloves and used them to slap me right in the mouth.

I’ve been staring out of my window at the empty feeders in my yard all winter long not giving them a second thought, but thanks to Pat and his needling, I now feel guilty.  Well, no more!  Yesterday, I took the five minute jaunt to the store and purchased a hearty supply of birdseed and promptly returned home to fill my feeders.  No photos of the process, it was actually raining while I filled them and I thought it best not to have the camera outside during the rain.  But filled they are.  And now I wait for the inevitable return of my feathered friends and their songs of happiness.

Until then, I’ll have to settle for some of the pictures I took last year of a few of the birds that came to visit.

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Can someone tell me again why we are having spring break?  And who decided that this was going to be a good idea–especially after loading the caches with chocolate, gummy bears, cream filled eggs and all manner of high fructose corn syrup derivatives.  Essentially, we give our children a speed ball and an empty week praying the weather will hold so that the high will be burned up out of doors.  Yesterday, the first day of our spring break, began innocuous enough.  We slept in.  Relatively.  I could have used another hour or four but then again, who couldn’t?  I made my world famous, from-scratch pancakes and sausage breakfast.  Children were laughing and singing and doing all manner of things that little people do when they are happy in the morning having been served the best breakfast in the world.  They politely asked to be excused from the table and scampered away.  Funny.  They never politely ask to help clear the table and clean the kitchen.  Ingrates!  I digress.

My wife was busying herself for work and I set to the task of cleaning the kitchen.  Not too much time had passed when I hear Zoë asking Zella, “Have you been playing in Mommy’s powder?”

It’s not the first time I’ve heard the question.  Fact, I’ve posed the question myself, however not in the innocently inquisitive manner of Zoë.  “OH.  MY.  GOD!!!!  WHAT IN THE WORLD HAVE YOU DONE?!  WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY BE THINKING?!!!  AAAAAAARRRRGGG!!!!!!”     Note the subtle differences in inflection.  Zoë has yet to develop the angst.  I think that’s because she doesn’t have to clean it up.  The powder in the air was billowing from the bedroom door not unlike smoke from a house fire seeking a portal from which to continue it’s ascent upward.  Through the haze stepped my little angel, Zella, completely white, dust plumes falling around her feet with every step.  I was mute with anger.  I ushered my little powderball to her bedroom, washed her and changed her.  I then had the pleasure of cleaning the bedroom she had just covered with powder.  It was not yet 10:30am.

It’s been a year.

I changed my template. 

I’m going to bed!