Eyeore begat

I like coming up with titles for my posts. It's actually my favorite part. In high school I was on the newspaper staff (I also co-edited the yearbook with my friend Kathy, but if you could see the finished product you would understand why I don't boast about this rather dubious accomplishment. Our yearbook was called The War Whoop, incidentally.) and I think it was my junior year that I made it to UIL regionals in the headline writing competition. You had to read a short article and come up with a catchy headline that fit into a particular number of spaces on the newspaper page. Back then in the 1900's, we used a system of hash marks above and below the letters to count the spaces. I'm sure there is an app for it now.

I wrote a newsletter (very, very infrequently) when I was teaching in Hungary, and I really wanted to title it "Serving the Lard With Gladness" but then thought better of it. It's ironic that Hungarians eat as much lard as they do and still manage to be a very slender people as a whole. Also, did you know they don't even call it 'Hungary'? It's Magyarorszag. So, practically the same.

Yesterday Hudson got frustrated with Harper at lunch and this happened:

Hudson: I'm going to frow a bomb in your EYE!

Harper: (smugly) Daddy will not let you do that. Because bombs are very EXPENSIVE.

Um hm, yes, the expense is what would keep Daddy from letting Hudson throw a bomb in your eye.

Both the big kids have been pretty surly and disagreeable lately. There are lots of factors involved, but I'm beginning to see that being the offspring of two melancholy parents might be a bit tricky to overcome, genetically speaking.

Last night I read an article in the Wall Street Journal about a French painter named Jean-Baptiste Simeon Chardin (that is quite a name to live up to, n'est pas?) and his famous still life of a disemboweled stingray hanging on a hook behind an inquisitive kitten. It is very pitiful to see, and I made a note that when we go to the Louvre some day (when, not if. One of my students, Tibor, taught me that. It is a non-Eyeore way of thinking.) I will need to direct Harper away from that particular gallery.

We just did a math lesson and I'm beginning to feel that first grade Singapore Math is already over my head. Bah.

I got myself this yoga (or 'faux-ga' as my friend Jamie calls it) mat and a dvd for Christmas and this is pretty much the extent of use thus far:
I did attempt to do it one day during nap time, then Harper and Hudson wandered out and sat on the couch behind me making very sweet comments like, "That's really good yoga you are doing Mommy!" and "Your legs are bent but that lady has hers straight Mommy!" and I realized that faux-ga is NOT a spectator sport. Plus it hurt a little, which means I'm probably not posing right or something.

Our Christmas tree is still up. And yes, it's real. And no, I haven't watered it since somewhere around December 21.

Here are some cute books we've enjoyed this month:

1. Henry Hikes to Fitchburg by D.B. Johnson
Henry (as in David Thoreau) is a bear who tells his friend he can walk the 30 miles to Fitchburg in the time it takes his friend to earn the 90 cents and take the train. His friend does chores for the Alcotts, Hawthornes, and Emersons to earn his money, which I thought was clever. **SPOILER ALERT**Henry's friend beats him to Fitchburg, but only because Henry stops to pick some blackberries.

2. Snowflake Bentley by Jacqueline Briggs Martin,ill. Mary Azarian
The true story of Wilson Bentley, born in Vermont in 1865, who, because he was so enthralled with the beauty of snowflakes, discovered a way to photograph them and share them with the world. I cry at the end of this one. Because I am a sucker for this kind of devotion to the pursuit of the sublime.

3. A Sick Day for Amos McGee by Philip C. Stead, ill. Erin E. Stead
Amos McGee works at the zoo and loves his animal friends in practical, thoughtful ways every day. Until he gets sick. Then, they reciprocate. I LOVE the illustrations. LOVE.

4. Me...Jane by Patrick McDonnell
This adorably illustrated biography of Jane Goodall as a little girl is a delight. Jane Goodall has much in common with a certain little girl who lives in my house and loves stingrays and horses with the same ardor that Jane loved chimpanzees.

5. The Year at Maple Hill Farm by Alice and Martin Provensen
Simple, whimsical illustrations and text detailing what happens on a farm each month of the year.

6. The Milly-Molly-Mandy Storybook by Joyce Lankester Brisley
"Once upon a time there was a little girl. She had a Father, and a Mother, and a Grandpa, and a Grandma, and an Uncle, and an Aunty; and they all lived together in a nice white cottage with a thatched roof."
Harper and I are reading these stories, written in the 1920's and 30's, and they are delightful. Sometimes I have to look up words. Did you know a 'farthing' is one-fourth pence?