G.K. yodeling himself to sleep.
Bright corridors. Along highways heading north, autumn makes a dreaded trip to Trader Joe’s in a busy suburb almost vacation-like, with a mellower G shouting out “Guck!” as we go. This, of course, before he gets ahold of a mini shopping cart, wreaking unintentional havoc as he goes. Handing out vitamin bottles to senior citizens.
Footage testifying to modern-day Russian anchorites living in underground caves. A unvarnished monk who’d experienced pure prayer.
Deer, with rack. In my backyard. I’m serious, though no one else saw him, I didn’t get a photo proper, and the shot I took of his hoof print by the compost pile could, I admit, be mistaken for another creature. He was beautiful though. And completely surprising, even if I am seeing things.
Jonah talking us into letting him wear his probably too small cowboy boots (it’s nearly impossible to feel where his toes are) to school. Ensuing onversation about safety in the classroom, considering J’s tornado like tendencies and the Montessori kindergarten model (the children do almost all of their work on the floor, so as to ensure freedom of movement).
Empty corridors. The farther north you go, the barer the trees.
I can’t figure this.
Twenty minute interrogation about prison life. Initiated and motored by J while eating cheap ‘n tasty mexican food.
Pee-drenched sound machine. It being Gabriel’s custom to streak naked to the corner of his bedroom immediately after being taken from the bath. It being his sometime custom to make water in said location (prompting John to compare him to a cat, which is not a commendation in our household). Unfortunately, the sound machine had been knocked to the floor, no doubt in a fit of hooray-it’s-bathtime rambunctiousness. Unfortunately, and ironically, G peed straight into the speaker so the “Rain” function no longer works properly. Fortunately, and mysteriously, this unleashing did not affect the “Waves” setting.
J climbing high our front yard tree, calling out (when I was concerned he’d gone a branch too far)—“It’s just a few hours down!”
J talking about mummies in “adejent egypt.” And I quote (this while riding in the backseat to what we discovered to be a manic TOYS R US scene—their first Christmas sale, prompting John to vow we’d be visiting an ashram during the holidays):
“Do you close your eyes when you’re in the sarcophagus?”
A few moments later chanting, “Life dead life dead life dead life dead…”