The more my boys grow the more apparent it becomes that they have some budding STEAM brains blossoming in their heads (science, technology, engineering, etc.). Little P loves to build - duplos, baby blocks, crazy fort sticks, tents, pillows, forts, anything he can get his hands on. Building is his go-to play activity. And Little B is constantly wondering about how things work and asking questions to understand the inner-working of things. Right now he's focused on DC's Metro system. Somehow in the course of dinner conversation tonight the boys started asking math questions and posing "hypotheses" to each other. It was too good not to share.
It all started when Little B commented that he was cold and I suggested he put more layers on. One of the boys commented that he wouldn't be cold with 100 layers on and I pointed out that with 100 layers on, he wouldn't be able to move his arms to eat his food (picturing the little brother from A Christmas Story with his snow suit on). So we created a hypothesis: how many shirts could he put on and still move his arms to eat his food? Little B guessed 50. Little P guessed 2. Sadly, they would not agree to test this hypothesis with me;)
Little P recognizes numbers but doesn't have a real understanding of math concepts yet. So his questions are along the lines of: "What's 100 milks plus 1 milk?" and "What's 100 tractors plus 48 horses? 7!"
Maybe it's because I'm tired, maybe it was the wine, but this one left me in stitches...
Little B: "What's 1,000 plus 1,000?"
Little P: (with all the volume and enthusiasm he could muster) "1,000!!"
Finally, in an attempt to stump me, Little B asked me how many days were left in this year. "If there are 366 or 365 days in a year, how many are left this year?" I guessed about 240 and explained that I derived that number by knowing that this week marks President Trump's 100th day in office and that he was inaugurated on January 20, so subtract 120 from 365 and you get about 240. I must have used the word celebrate in there somewhere, perhaps to remind him of the celebration his class had of their 100th day of school, because he paused to think and then said, "Mom, I guess you're not celebrating this week!" Truth son, truth.
Concluding statement from Little P: (as serious as he could be) "This really stumped you."
Tuesday, April 25, 2017
Saturday, April 1, 2017
Another goodbye
Today feels like too momentous a day to let pass without reflection. This morning I said goodbye to my childhood home. My parents bought it 23 years ago, at the end of my fourth grade year, so the majority of my years growing up (especially those that I was old enough to remember) were spent here.
As I walked around the nearly empty house last night and this morning, I found myself remembering the different ways the rooms looked over the years. Where the piano was before and after our move to California. How the family room furniture was arranged the morning I came home from school early to watch the coverage of the 9/11 attacks. Where the family computer was and how I could hear the screeching of the AOL dial up over the sounds of brushing my teeth. And of course my bedroom, which had countless permutations because rearranging my room was a thing for me. It was in that room where I struggled with middle school angst, my scoliosis, high school boyfriend drama, college applications. It was in this home that I completed countless hours of homework at the kitchen table while my mom worked away in the kitchen (as if I wondered where I got that habit from!) It was in this home that Hubby T and I had dinner on our first date, where we planned our wedding, where I had my miscarriage, and where we brought our children to know their aunt and grandparents. Life has been well lived in this home.
When I was growing up, a sign hung on our wall, "Home is where the Navy sends you." Considering we moved four times by the time I was six this made sense to me. That sign disappeared somewhere along the way, maybe when my dad retired and this place could stay our home, until the time came to move on, which is now. I hope the family who moves in here builds a wonderful life, as we did.
For now I am anxious for the sting of saying goodbye to fade, comforting myself with happy memories, the peace and joy I have in my own current home, and the wise words of Miranda Lambert, "Won't take nothin' but a memory from the house that built me"
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| Picture of the house the spring we moved in |
As I walked around the nearly empty house last night and this morning, I found myself remembering the different ways the rooms looked over the years. Where the piano was before and after our move to California. How the family room furniture was arranged the morning I came home from school early to watch the coverage of the 9/11 attacks. Where the family computer was and how I could hear the screeching of the AOL dial up over the sounds of brushing my teeth. And of course my bedroom, which had countless permutations because rearranging my room was a thing for me. It was in that room where I struggled with middle school angst, my scoliosis, high school boyfriend drama, college applications. It was in this home that I completed countless hours of homework at the kitchen table while my mom worked away in the kitchen (as if I wondered where I got that habit from!) It was in this home that Hubby T and I had dinner on our first date, where we planned our wedding, where I had my miscarriage, and where we brought our children to know their aunt and grandparents. Life has been well lived in this home.
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| One more run through the backyard, which I think is what they will remember most about this house |
When I was growing up, a sign hung on our wall, "Home is where the Navy sends you." Considering we moved four times by the time I was six this made sense to me. That sign disappeared somewhere along the way, maybe when my dad retired and this place could stay our home, until the time came to move on, which is now. I hope the family who moves in here builds a wonderful life, as we did.
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| Trying to make mommy feel better as we said goodbye |
For now I am anxious for the sting of saying goodbye to fade, comforting myself with happy memories, the peace and joy I have in my own current home, and the wise words of Miranda Lambert, "Won't take nothin' but a memory from the house that built me"
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