Who You Calling a Nerd?

I keep trying to read books with Quinn. Sometimes she listens, rubbing her fingers over the characters on the pages–especially if those pages have built-in mirrors that allow her to grin at her too-adorable, two-toothed self–but mostly, to my English teacher’s chagrin, when we sit down to read together she writhes around in my lap, tries to chew on my arm, or slaps the pages close because dammit, she doesn’t want to read any stinking books right now. She’s only 12 months old, I keep telling myself. She’s still a baby. So what if she doesn’t like to read now? It’s okay, there’s still time. There’s still time (kindly imagine the high-pitched voice wailing into the abyss, please). Then there’s Saoirse, who will wake early in the morning and read books for an hour quietly in her bed before we even realize she’s been awake. At night, I’ll walk by her room, and even if it’s a half hour past her bedtime, there she is, in bed, with…

Promises, Promises

I’ve been thinking a lot about promises, and not just because I’d promised Saoirse weeks ago that we’d take her to go see Cars 2 this weekend–her first movie in an actual theater, with actual candy (she says this in a hushed whisper, as in, “I get to have [whisper] candy?!“)–only to open the paper this morning to see that it’s not actually playing anywhere around us yet. I try so, so hard not to ever promise her anything unless I can guarantee it happening, but alas, my own excitement in taking her to the big screen made me a liar. Building good character in our girls is something that concerns me more than it probably does the normal, non-caffeinated person, maybe because I’m so worried about my own. I want our daughters to grow up strong, and honest. I want them to be “followers-through:” meaning, if they say they’re going to do something, they’ll do it, and in a timely fashion–unlike their mom, who’ll receive a check for her birthday, say…

Mom, What’s the Smell?

We journeyed to the heart of Amish country Saturday to take the wee lassies aboard Thomas the Tank Engine, which had magically hopped from the Island of Sodor (I just accidentally typed “Sodom” there, and am thinking that a show based there would make for an entirely different type of programming) to a railroad somewhere in the farmlands of Pennsylvania. As is always the case  (every single time, and it is delightful) when we take SK and the Mighty on an adventure, our children were an absolute blast. They loved the “Peep! Peep!” sound Thomas is so fond of making, and the ice cream (of course) and the absolutely fantabulous can’t-be-beat surprise ride on a–wait for it–school bus. But the very best moment for this momma was her eldest daughter getting to ride a train. Because SK’s always (for two-thirds of her life, anyway) wanted to ride a train, and Thomas is just so cool and because the windows were open to let the breeze flow through the cars, bringing with it all the scents of cut hay and cow poop that fresh country air…