A Day Full of Surprises!

Tonight, as the puppies (aka, children) scampered about the church grounds, John tripped on the ramp out front. The forensics team pieced the accident together using skid marks, blood trails, and visual examination of the involved party. It was gruesome. The full report indicates that the victim was traveling downhill at Mach 3 when a stray molecule of unknown origin bolted into his lane from oncoming traffic. The small (yet rapidly moving) victim was thrown forward, out of his planned trajectory, landing on the palms of his hands. The momentum of his body then thrust him up and over, pole vaulter-style, onto his forehead and nose. The victim traveled in this position for a few feet, as indicated by the abrasions on the entire upper portion of his head, as well as the tissue and blood residue on the ramp. (To put it in laymen's terms, the best I can tell, John took a literal nose dive down the concrete ramp at church and came up with a goose egg that could have only come from one seriously large goose. Or possibly an ostrich. Pretty typical boy-type accident, and no, it won't give him an incentive not to run down the ramp next week. Funny, these kids.)

I couldn't make it better. It hurt, and that's all there was to it. I couldn't get within thirty feet of his forehead to kiss it. Trust me, I tried. The kid can duck and weave like a featherweight champ when he needs to. The days of being able to stem arterial blood flow and repel the fear of pain with the "all better kiss" are gone, now. I got out the ice and... and that was it. That was all I could do. Without the power of The Kiss That Makes It All Better, I might as well have not been there. But even amidst the initial terror and screaming, he remembered to say "thank you" to the child that retrieved and straightened out his party hat. He's so good about taking things in stride. Poor bruised, lumpy, loveable kid.

Other than the pretty graphic face-plant, however, today was a good day. The boys and I took more things down to the Little Basement That Could. We made two batches of Turkish Delight. Or, rather, without the aid of a candy thermometer, we made one batch of nutless praline-like goo and one batch of translucent concrete. It's okay - we had fun, and we needed a new cookie sheet, anyway. James made a play called The Magic Mop starring Balto and the kitchen mop. John narrated the last chapter of Prince Caspian so well that I have to admit that the kid can talk and listen at the same time (if he hadn't been born at home, I'd wonder if he was switched at birth). Smidge enjoyed being Two in all its Two-ness, and it was nice to have his smiley, giggly, contrary little self back to normal.

I took the kids to church so that Zorak could work a bit on the house without feeling torn between the bullnose beading and my semi-desperate need for help with the evening routine. We had fun in town, and he got quite a bit accomplished. Perhaps a bit too much, as he now has a list of "little things" that need doing. There's an awful lot of painting on that list, and that makes me twitchy.

The boys had a delightful time at Pioneer Club - John's teacher sought me out to say what a joy he is to have in class (it's always nice to know that others enjoy your children, too). James enjoyed his lesson on growth and erosion, and drew an awesome picture of his favorite plant (the stevia plant, in case you were wondering - I have no idea when that developed, but there you have it).

He then, on the way home, completely altered the drawing by adding two children eating of the forbidden fruit, erm, stevia leaf, and titled his final piece, "The Root of Romance". (Where does he get this stuff???) ARGH. I thought we'd settled all this during our last painful drive home. As I didn't have the manual transmission to help me this time, and he doesn't believe me when I point out the window and shout, "LOOK! A polar bear!", we talked. Again. And I doubt it took this time, either. But we'll keep talking until he realizes he is this close (picture my fingers very close together) to being sent to a monastary.

We've a lot to do tomorrow, and over the weekend. It looks to be a wonderful, productive few days. There's a storm a'brewin' and headin' our way, so we'll have plenty of time to get things done inside and be ready to frolic when the rain passes on. Rhythm, cadence, pace. Even in the chaos, it's there, and the sound is beautiful, isn't it?