I am arguing right now about how old Nathaniel has to be before he reads about Cthulhu. I think twelve. Right now I'm telling him I am not reading Lovecraft aloud to him, he has to be old enough to read it himself, because I will have nightmares. I can't believe I am having this conversation
The boys and I went to Ikea by public transit yesterday. It took almost two hours there and more than an hour back. We start over at Woodbine, on the right hand green arm, and have to go all the way up to the end of the purple line. It was a big adventure, and I'm not doing it again for a few months.
I've never been on the purple line, and our station had very neat mosaics on the walls, which looked kind of Minecrafty. So we had a brief chat about how the ancient Greeks and Romans used mosaic a lot, and about how you make pictures with little pieces of coloured tile.
On the way home Thomas asked what would happen if I broke both my legs. I said I didn't want to. He asked me why. I explained that I wouldn't be able to walk or do anything for our family- laundry, meals, trips walking around. There was a brief pause while he considered, and then he asked what would happen if I broke both my arms. Breaking both arms would actually be worse.
Elizabeth said her first sentence, and it was 'Nat- hit- me." Terrific.
Okay, I need to go get Thomas up, because my other children are sitting around making pictures of ancient gods of the sea and eating gingersnaps for breakfast. I told the boys we'd go to the zoo today, but the girls needed me to resettle them after Nat started having nightmares about one, so I was in their room until three thirty, and I didn't get to bed until after eleven. My brain is missing. And Geoff's home sick, so I think I should bundle all the kids off to the fenced playground and lie on a bench as they run around very fast.