Dueck's Roost

Take one handsome 8-year-old scout Add a pound of ground turkey and two cans Del Monte Four Cheese spaghetti sauce Cook a bag and a half of organic WW Garofalo spaghetti--available at Costco (muscle required!) provide a little bit of class with neatly folded paper towels (floral print, optional) And, voila! dinner is served (and requirement 8c from the Wolf Handbook checked off the list) Great job, Porter!

A child's perspective of age is really quite fascinating (and maybe a little frightening). Yesterday Porter was telling me about part of a book he is reading for school. He was using the word "faucet" in place of some type of vent or air way. When I told him that I didn't think faucet was the correct word for that statement, he said, "No, Mom, this book is even older than Mrs. G (his teacher) so it's from way back in the olden days. The words were probably kind of different then." It's a Beverly Cleary book and Mrs. G is very early sixties. I can't help but wonder, a. When did hot rods and fitted blouses gain olden-day status? b. Where does that put horse-drawn buggies and and sun bonnets? And ... c. should I take any blame in my son's lack of olden-day know how, or do I just attribute it to to the sudden absence of Little House on the Prairie re-runs?

I can't resist quickly typing this up because it completely sums up Mae. Her little girlfriend came over to play this morning for a couple of hours. They went on a jewel hunt, colored Strawberry Shortcake pics, played out in the back yard, and so on. When friend's mom came a couple of minutes ago. Mae said her goodbyes and headed inside the house. As she walked down our long hall towards the kitchen--sporting high school musical boots, a knee length purple skirt, and a mismatched blue shirt--she threw her arms out expressively and said to nobody but herself, "That was absolutely awesome!" He he.

I do realize that it's already in the latter part of January, but I never did publish a Christmas posting so I'm going to back track a little (so uncommon for me, I know). Christmas around here was wonderful as always. How could it not be? It is Christmas after all. In fact, thinking back to every Christmas I've experienced I cannot remember one that was negative. Which is really quite amazing when I consider periods of financial stress, illness, the death of loved ones, divorce, or the many other things that frequently present themselves. I remember feeling particularly out of my element during a pool-side Christmas spent in Chile as a foreign exchange student, but even then the uplifting spirit of Christmas was still very much present. I suppose the knowledge of and gratitude towards our Savior and His willingness to be born into this world transcends, for at least a moment, all of the bad. Anyway, our home is never without its share of excitement, and Christmas only seem...

J was just working on his 1st-grade spelling work, and came to me for approval on the final product (I had already sent him away twice for revisions). He is required to practice writing a list of about ten words and then use three of them in three separate sentences. His final sentence tonight read, "Surrender or die." Nice, J. He looked at me with his sly smile that all who know J are very familiar with, and said, "P helped me." Was he saying it in gratitude or trying to pass the blame? Your guess. So, P happened to be close by and when I inquired why he would have considered helping J write such a violent sentence for elementary-school homework, he just shrugged and said, "I don't know." The world of boys! I will never completely understand it, but oh how it keeps me entertained.