Shepherd's Pie and Parentheses

So much for the goal of a weekly newsletter. 😂 

Update on fall, it is actually here! So that’s been amazing. I wore a long-sleeved shirt for the first full day yesterday, and even though it got a little toasty in the afternoon I was determined to stick it out. I also made an authentic Shepherd’s Pie for the first time yesterday, so something was going on. The recipe turned out okay, and it happens to be Stanton’s favorite childhood meal, but I think the combination is just not my favorite (I’m not much of a mashed potato person).

I was thinking this week about what each of the kids might write about if they were capable of writing a book at this age. Pretty sure Loxley’s would be titled something like ‘I GET TO CHOOSE FOR MYSELF!’ She is leaning into her agency more and it is driving me crazy, especially when I try to explain that I am not going to give her the choice to hit Boyd. Bruce’s might be ‘Strangers, Bad Guys, and Me: Hypothetical scenarios that could save my life’. (The mailman has also become a threat, and not through any fault of his own. Bruce and Loxley heard about jail for the first time recently, but being a new term it didn’t stick completely and they use “mail” instead, with some sort of hybrid meaning. Their newest retort in arguments with each other is “I’m going to throw you in the mail!” or threatening to get the police to “throw you in the mail”. I haven’t bothered to straighten it out. 😆 ) Boyd’s book would be ‘(Almost) Walking with Predators: Tales of survival by a youngest child’. Poor guy has been on the cusp of walking for more than a month, but has learned extreme caution whenever the others and especially Loxley are around, as she loves to grab, push, hit, or otherwise assault him. (Bruce is better, but he loves to present Boyd with obstacles, like standing in his way and forcing him to change direction, or making Boyd to crawl through the “tunnel” of his legs.)

That’s enough parentheses for now. Thanks for enduring.

Other current fascinations of the children are search engines and timers. We regularly print off coloring pages for the kids and will ask them what they want to color before choosing a picture. Bruce used to just ask for Spiderman, or Bluey, or his “Star Wars Guy” Mandalorian, but when he saw that in seconds we could access anything he asked for, he got more creative with his requests. “I want a Spiderman holding a Star Wars guy and going like this!” (Striking a pose.) I explained that I don’t actually generate the pictures, but then Stanton reminded me that AI could… I’m not ready for Bruce to know about that.

And timers are a nearly omnipotent bit of technology as far as Loxley is concerned. She’ll carry around a small lego, or a marker, or even a rock, and talk into it as needed: “Set timer for Halloween,” “Set timer for no timeout,” and “Set timer for green” are just some of the commands we’ve heard. And recently when Stanton told Loxley that he was going to move her carseat from the coveted middle spot back to the side (on account of her picking on Boyd during every drive) Loxley quietly raised her pumpkin patch wristband to her face and whispered “Set timer for Dad to not move my seat.”

That’s all for now. A stinky child has climbed into my lap.

Have a great week!

-Kiera

P.S. And apparently I’m just addicted to parentheses.