matching tracksuits

fun in threes, sometimes fours

the boy

Day 4: A Walk in the Park

Thursday 19 March 2020 | 0 Comments

We’ve been going on walks with the dog as a family every evening. It’s probably the best thing that’s come out of this pandemic for us. What we’ve noticed, though, is that a lot of other people are doing the same. Going out for a walk used to be an isolating experience: we would walk a mile, a mail and a half together and not meet a single other person. Not one.

When we went for walks at Conestee, our favorite local park, we’d encounter people, but sporadically. A couple here; a jogger there; a family around that corner. Nothing major.

Last night, however, we encountered several people along our 1.5 mile walk. Tonight, while out jogging, I encountered two or three couples out walking. This afternoon, when we were at Conestee, we saw more people there than we probably ever have.

Everyone was out. The turtles were out on the logs,

the snakes were out sunning themselves.

And people were everywhere.

“Perhaps this will bring about a change in people,” K suggested. “Perhaps we’ll all get back to enjoying the simple things in life.”

Perhaps.

Day 3: First Day of School

Wednesday 18 March 2020 | 0 Comments

The day started out foggy and stayed dreary -- it could be a kind of metaphor for everyone's mood, I suppose. But we're fortunate: we have food; we have (a bit of) toilet paper; we have money in the bank; we have a home; we have a family that's together. That's what's most important.

Today was our district's first day of online learning. There's a vast spectrum of what this means. For E, it was a 90-page packet of reading, math, social studies, and science work. He took on the reading first, making it through a fairly long retelling of Goldielocks with relative ease and breezing through the questions.

"We're not seeking to further their education," was the mantra as teachers in my school prepared for our own students earlier this week. "We're just tasked with providing work that will keep them from slipping."

That seems like a fairly succinct description of the work E got.

I helped him with some of it; K helped him with some of it; he did a fair amount of it on his own without direct help. Helping him usually just means giving a nudge when he gets overwhelmed and frustrated -- a kind encouragement, a hint. Sometimes it becomes too much, though, and we need a break. Such was the case today.

Still, we managed to work through all the challenges and completed the work just after lunch.

L had video conferencing with teachers and they went over some new material. Of course, she goes to a charter school, which means there is a bit of a semi-natural selection process involved in the enrollment.

As for my kiddos, I got a few emails, exclusively from honors kids and mostly about outstanding assignments.

"When is that paper due?"

"When can I take my makeup test?"

As for the rest of them? I'm not sure. I didn't hear from them. And I got word today that if kids are not doing the work within two days, I need to be contacting parents. That ought to be fun.

Not as much fun as our little fire this evening, but fun.

Funerals

Saturday 14 March 2020 | 0 Comments

We went to Rock Hill for Papa's sister's funeral this afternoon, the "we" being E and I. L was sick; Papa was too weak; and K had to stay back to keep an eye on everyone. It's been a tough eighteen months for Papa: two sisters and his wife passed, and the final heartbreak was his decision not to go today.

As E and I entered the funeral home, I reminded him of our plan: "Remember, no hugs or handshakes. We don't want to take anything back to Papa." Was this coronavirus-related? Not so much, but still -- with an incubation period of several symptom-free days, it is best to extend precautions a bit further than one naturally would.

After the graveside service, my cousin D said he was going to head over to grandma's and grandpa's grave.

"We'll tag along," I suggested. The last time the Girl had a tournament in Rock Hill, I'd spent a good bit of time wandering through that cemetery, which was across the street from the sports venue, looking for this grave.

And this one, just beside it.

The uncle for whom I was named whom I never met.

"He was a lot of fun," my cousin D, nearly twenty years my senior, shared. "Larry would always make you laugh, always make you feel better."

Exploring

Friday 13 March 2020 | 0 Comments

Shooting Still

Wednesday 11 March 2020 | 0 Comments

Still Shooting

Tuesday 10 March 2020 | 0 Comments

The kids have grown positively obsessed with shooting in the backyard — the Boy, his bb gun; the Girl, her bow and arrow. They really have no interest in trading.

Today’s adventure: find the arrow that ricocheted off the fence post and soared into the wild. (Slight exaggeration: it didn’t go more than thirty feet away, and was never in danger of landing in a dangerous way.)

The Girl fired it; the Girl found it. I would have half-expected her to give up sooner than she did. She’s dealing with frustration better than she was a few years ago. But she loves jumping as much as she always has:

The discovery of the day: the bbs bounce right off the archery target.

We could pick them up and reuse them, just like the arrows…

Sunny Sunday Afternoon

Sunday 08 March 2020 | 0 Comments

More Shooting

Saturday 07 March 2020 | 0 Comments

Giggles

Tuesday 03 March 2020 | 0 Comments

When putting to bed a 7-year-old, the giggles are sometimes inevitable. Just about anything can set them off. A giggling 7-year-old is usually a joy, but it bedtime there's a touch of gray to it as well: the kid needs to go to sleep, but it's so much fun just to lie there giggling together.

Tonight the word "nipple" the boy giggling and he couldn't stop. "Such a funny word!"

I put my index finger to my lips to shush him.

"Daddy," he said, "you're trying to shush me but you still laughing."

"I know," I laughed.

In the end, I had to leave. I knew he would never get and I would never stop laughing if I didn't.

There was an added tenderness to that moment from a passage I had read earlier in the evening in a book by Paul Auster. One of the characters is a man named Peter Stillman who's father had literally locked him up in a dark room from the age of three so he would forget English and revert to the natural language of God.

Needless to say, it didn't work.

The only thing the father's cruelty accomplished was to create a scarred man who could barely speak.

No father would behave way. Depravity is possible but not to that degree. At least we tell ourselves that. Insanity is the only explanation for such horror.

It seemed to me then that I was not only having a sweet moment with my son but also giving him an extra helping to make up for other children's horror. As if that would help. 

Shooting in the Back Yard

Saturday 29 February 2020 | 0 Comments

In the afternoon, after almost all the day’s necessities were behind us — shopping, a photoshoot at a local church for the diocesan newspaper, a soccer game (that I didn’t attend because I stayed behind to keep an eye on Papa, hence the lack of photos) — we went out to shoot L’s bow and arrows. K had gone to drum up some clients for her new venture in real estate, but the kids and I were, for all intents and purposes, done. Sure, I still had a consultation call with a client for a web site I’m building for her, but that was easily put off to the evening.

The Girl hadn’t lost her touch. Which is to say that she didn’t put a lot of arrows near the center of the target, but she didn’t miss the target entirely — which was the case when she first started shooting.

For the Boy, though, it was a different matter. He hit the target a few times — many shots fell ineffectually short, but he did hit the target a number of times. The problem was, though, that the bow was just a little too big for him, so he was not able to get enough pull on it, so not enough energy went into the arrow. So every single shot that did hit the target bounced off.

Understandably enough, it was a source of great frustration.

“Daddy, I can’t make any of them stick!”

What to do when your boy is frustrated and wants to quit? Make a joke of it.

“It’s almost like the target is against you, like it has a will of its own. Like it has some kind of Jedi power. ‘Nope,’ it says as your arrows strike. ‘Nah, not this time,’ it says the next shot.” And so on. Soon he was laughing and making his own jokes when the arrows flopped off the target.

“That one slammed into reverse and backed up!”