Perfect Combo

Movie in the morning and hike in the afternoon?

Yes, please!

Consider my Sunday complete.

Ingredients

One of our good friends has the sweetest dog you will ever meet. Lady was rescued from West Virginia and arrived with one eye, buck shot in her leg, fleas, and heart worm. Over the years she has been The best of buddies to both of our dogs— idolizing Isabel and then passing on the lessons she learned from her to our new puppy, Lucy.

In addition to all her nicknames, Ladybug, Bug, and Buggy, Heidi also likes to call her Nanny, because of the good care she has shown Lucy. When conversations turn to Lady, there is often a lot of speculation about her heritage. She is jet black, sleek and squat, with floppy, fringy ears and strange wisps growing from her belly. She has a square head with that one deep-set eye, a fireplug shaped body and skinny little legs.

Is she Pitty? Rottie? Chow? She must have a little Lab, but that fringe? Is she Setter? Borzoi? Terrier?

Well, perhaps all our speculation will be satisfied shortly, because Lady’s owner Lauren’s Birthday is this week, and we got her a dog DNA kit. I confess that I am really excited; it is seriously like a gift to us all. I just can’t wait to see the results, and at last to know the recipe for one sweet puppy. 

The End

Part of the deal between me and my boys book group was that we would choose a book none of us had read and read it together. I liked the opportunity that our pact gave me to react as I read aloud-- I often asked questions and made predictions as we went, and the boys could see the model of how a pretty good reader interacts with a text in real time.

This morning when we gathered for our last session though, I had to make a confession. "Guys," I started as I poured the hot chocolate, "I have to be honest. I read to the end of the book yesterday."

They were a little outraged, but the cocoa made it somewhat better. "I know, I know," I said, "but let me tell you why I did it. I was afraid I was going to cry at the end, and I wanted to be prepared."

"Oh no!" cried one. "Are you prepared?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted, "but I'm really glad I know what's coming."

With that, they were silent, until they, too, knew what was coming.

And, yes, there were a few tears.

Situation Well in Hand

Even in sixth grade, some kids have

total
meltdowns
at school.

So this morning when I heard high-pitched screaming down the hall and around the corner, I wasn't alarmed, but I knew I should investigate. I had only taken a few steps when I heard the principal's calm voice trying to talk the banshee down. I stopped and listened; I couldn't see them, but I could clearly hear the exchange.

"Get out of my face!" the student cried.

"I'm all the way over here," the principal said evenly, "far away from your face."

The student continued his outburst, though, getting so worked up that at last he dropped his voice to a menacing growl. "I will find you!" he threatened in words he had clearly heard elsewhere. "You'll see! If it's the last thing I do, I'll find you."

"And it won't be hard, either," the principal replied. "My office is right over there, and I'm here every day."

Tantrum?
Over.

Undercover

Because of the parking situation at our school, many mornings I find myself bobbing along in a stream of middle schoolers on the quarter mile journey from car to building. I'm not super tall; I carry a backpack and a lunch bag; I wear jeans to school almost every day. That pretty much makes me invisible, and as such, I am often witness to unadulterated kid culture.

Sometimes I intervene, Drop the snow and walk away!

Sometimes I initiate conversation: Evan! Look how tall you are! I probably won't even recognize you the next time I see you!

And sometimes I just listen: I was processing what she said all night. I am still processing. It seems like all I do is process, process, process!

I feel you, kid.

Escape Artist

The text from our dog walker came a little after noon today:

My girlfriend got out of her cone. She won't talk to me now because I put it back on.

TIBBY!

When You Know It

Sun was gleaming off the frozen Potomac this morning as I took an early morning drive up the parkway. I practically had the road to myself because of the federal holiday, and the monuments and bridges were splendid, pristine against the wintery blue sky. Sometimes it's easy to take such grandeur for granted, to forget that we live in one of the world's most iconic cities, but not on a morning like this.