When L began speaking Polish, we made a video of her saying her first word.
Now that the Boy is beginning to speak, we thought we’d do the same.
With the same word.
the girl
Autumnal Sunday with Friends
Old Friends, Old Zoo, New Experience
We've been to the zoo enough times that we have it memorized. Indeed, we've had it memorized for so long that we could probably give a tour to visitors blindfolded. Still, it's a new experience for the Boy, and that makes it a new experience for us all.
Halloween 2013
Sign Language
Early Morning with the Boy
The Boy’s sleeping schedule is somewhat more flexible than we’d probably really like it to be. It probably has to do with that stubborn illness that’s been lingering.
Some days, he sleeps until eight; other mornings, he’s up at half-past five. It would be infinitely convenient if the former days tended to fall on the weekends and the latter during the work week, but infinity and convenience are rare companions. And in the end, isn’t convenience overrated?
Besides, when we’re the only two up — K already out of the house and L asleep — it’s reminiscent of the early weeks. Tiring weeks, but always magical in the morning.
“Magical morning my foot,” K might say. “I remember how you complained!”
Reading
Autumn Sunday in the Yard
New Friends
Saturday Soccer
It’s been a tough soccer season, the mirror image of last year’s spectacular season. We’ve had some tough losses this year, and the only win thus far came last week, when L was home with a bad cough.
This week, she’s back, playing all positions: goalie, defender, mid-fielder, forward.
The irony of that statement is that she often played all those positions at the same time — all the kids do. A sort of herd soccer. They’re beginning to learn about positional play, but they get excited, each and every one of them, and soon, there’s a little herd of green and blue jerseys, all attacking the ball.
Today, there is such hope: we are up one-nil for the first quarter. The green team equalizes, in a sense: one of our players shoots into his own goal trying to clear the ball. Soon, though, we’re up three one.
And then comes the barrage of little number five on the green team: a little blond girl shorter and faster than everyone else on the field, with phenomenal ball control. She shoots one, two, three goals within five minutes.
So we lose, five three. Well, four three. One doesn’t count. But of course it does. But of course, it doesn’t.