My daughter Emily is on a business trip. My granddaughter Kiley misses her mom.
She is the star to my tree
The snow to my plow
I try singing without her
But I don’t know how
She’s part of my duet
We’re jelly and jam
If I am the turkey,
She is the ham
I know my rhyming
is pretty bad
But I hope this last line
Makes you glad:
Love left with you
And love will come back with you
And love will wait here for you
All the hours in between.
By my Granddaughter Kiley, 11.
Every girl, if I’m not mistaken, wants to feel pretty. Maybe all the time. Maybe just once in a while. Maybe hardly ever. But our appearances matter to us. We want to impress people. We want to look cute, or at least clean. So next time you see a girl in a pretty outfit, look closer. If she’s not smiling, she’s not confident. If she’s not smiling, make her smile.
By my granddaughter Kiley.
I say what I say
I say what I say
it never comes out that way
I do what I do
I do what I can
There’s always a flaw in my plan
I type what I type
I type what I want
It ends in a different font
I am who I am
I am the best I can be
At least that part works
And shows beautiful me.
My not quite 11-year-old granddaughter Kiley wrote this for her blog.
Letting go is hard. Tomorrow is our community garage sale, and I finally have to say goodbye to my old baby dolls. I don’t really care about the dolls. Nor about the old VHS tapes, or even the stuffed animals. It’s the memories buried inside those things I want. The memories that make me want to turn back the clock. Back when I was little. Little enough to fit in the stroller we’re selling.
Four years ago then 8-year-old Mack appeared to have some Mephistophelean help in his 5K.
Or has his mother said, “Whoever assigned the bib numbers for this race obviously knows Mack.”
It’s the birthday of Mack, oldest of The Sweeties.
Happy Birthday, Mack!
This is Mack’s first Thanksgiving in school, so of course he’s hearing the public school version of the First Thanksgiving story. Some teachers don’t use the correct name for the indigenous people near Plymouth — Wampanoags — or even the preferred generic term — American Indians. They use the presumed politically correct term — Native Americans.
That’s what the teacher says, but what do the children hear?
Mack’s mother Jill reports:
“At school, Mack is learning about the first Thanksgiving. He came home today with a short story about it, which I asked him to read to me. It went well until he got to the first reference to what he called the ‘Made-Up’ Americans.”
First posted in 2006.
… makes you feel one-tenth as good as it does me, you’ll have a great day, too.
Jill reports on three-year-old Reidie:
Reid just woke up. He has a cold and he’s also having a hard time adjusting to the new schedule — he naps, and then he can’t go to sleep at night, and then he gets up late, and then he won’t nap and he’s exhausted by 7:00…
Anyway, he just woke up and I asked him (as I always do), “What did you dream about?”
“Darth Vader was chasing me.”
“Oh no! Were you scared?”
“Really? I would have been scared.”
“Grandpa was holding my hand.”
[Reposted from this date in 2009.]
NewMexiKen had a story the other day about Reid wanting to play catcher.
Well, he got to catch. I thought you’d like a photo.
It’s Fall sports season in Virginia and we have four boy Sweeties playing baseball and one girl Sweetie in soccer. Jill reports on 6-year-old Reid:
Reid has been petitioning his baseball coach for a chance to play catcher and he finally got his shot tonight. We had to buy him a cup first. (Oh, he is tickled pink by that cup.)
Anyway, he put on all the gear and he could barely stand up. He tried to catch about 20 pitches from the machine and every single pitch knocked him over completely backwards — including one that hit him plum in the face.
I think it’s the weight of the equipment that is tipping him over, more than anything else.
It was pretty awesome.
Reid on last year’s Fall team.
First day of school yesterday and Jill reports on Mack and Aidan.
Going through Mack’s papers and one of his teachers had them do a handout about themselves and their hobbies and what they like/don’t like about school, what they like in teachers, etc.
One question is, “If you had a million dollars, what would you do with it?”
Mack said he would buy a business so he could earn a bunch more millions of dollars.
Which is a good answer.
It also made me think of what Aidan told me earlier — his teacher asked them all what they would do with a thousand dollars (apparently, the rate of return on imaginary investments greatly increases between third and sixth grades).
Aidan said he would buy a hot tub.