Present tense Harper

I want to document a few things about Harper at seven years, ten months.

**She just weighed herself (after eating two tortillas stuffed with avocado for lunch) (my kids love to weigh themselves on my scale. Hudson refers to it as "gaining my weight" even though he rarely has actually gained any) and she weighs 47 pounds.

**She loves frogs, and was ecstatic to find this little fellow when we went to pick strawberries on Monday:

 **She has, currently, two young gentlemen who have expressed interest in marrying her. Mr. TS, when asked by his mom what qualities had guided his choice, cited her extensive knowledge of "Star Wars" (especially useful since he himself has not seen "Star Wars.") He has already chosen the vehicle they are going to own: a large duelie (doolie?) truck with plenty of room in back for their many children. Mr. NG is the other suitor. I don't know the exact details of his interest, but I suspect it has to do with their shared love of Legos. Yesterday at school, it was discovered that his younger brother had proposed to Helena earlier, to which Harper replied, "That's weird, because (Mr. NG) wants to marry me, and now (Mr. BG) wants to marry Helena!" Her cheeks turned quite red as she said this aloud, which surprised me. She is rarely self-conscious or embarrassed. She later told me that Mr. NG had first proposed months ago at Oil Ranch, "while they were walking across a field." I thought it was especially dear that Mr. NG, upon discovering that Harper was going to have to sit out the first 10 minutes of playground time yesterday (because of an earlier infraction involving extemely loud protestations about having her hair brushed before we left the house) pulled up a chair near her and sat quietly waiting for her to be available. Let the record state that I would love either set of in-laws. Let the record also state that Harper has, on more than one occasion, declared to me that she is planning to live by herself when she is a grown up, with only her pet stingrays and horses to keep her company. Children, she has told me, are TOO MUCH WORK. I do hope she changes her mind at some point. Having the grandrays over for holidays seems like it might be a touch smelly.

**She is an artist.  A couple of Saturdays ago, she spent several hours doing many variations of these horse silhouettes with her watercolors. Then she got my camera at the butterfly center on Monday, and got several really nice shots with the auto focus:


**She still loves writing stories. This year's entry for the PBS Kids Writing Contest:

**She definitely has an artistic temperament to go along with all of this creativity. It is a daily struggle for both of us. I see this expression several times a day:


**She loves programming this little robot she got for Christmas. It seems to be based on the TRS-80 computer I used in Mr. Charles' Gifted and Talented class back in 1983, but now that she's finally figured out how to do it, she delights in watching it roll around. This morning, she realized how to program its headlights, which pleased her.

**She is, at this moment, sewing a gray, fleece tank top for one of her stuffed stingrays. "For summer," I heard her muttering as she threaded her needle.

**A few weeks ago, she decided to spend a big chunk of the money she had saved on a ripstick. Do you know what these are? I didn't. It's kind of like a skateboard, but it has only two wheels. And they WOBBLE. Apparently, it is supposed to simulate snowboarding. The husband got on it the first day and almost broke his wrist within the first 30 seconds. Harper is making slow, steady progress. She is determined to take it to church and show her friends Pablo and Marco that she can do it. I was trying to help her the week she got it, and we fell over on the sidewalk in such a tangle that it took a few minutes to sort ourselves out. She is also intent on mastering the pogo stick she got for Christmas. She's up to 10 continuous bounces, I think.

**She is reading (to herself) The Railway Children by Edith Nesbit. We are reading Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfield out loud.

**As much as she likes writing for pleasure, she does not enjoy our writing schoolwork. She bristles at the suggestion that her own creative spelling and punctuation are somehow not exactly standard. She does enjoy math work, most of the time. Getting started is usually met with sighs and groans, however.

That is plenty. I need to go check on the tank top endeavor.