Young Scholar, Revisited

Today was book order day, I mean Poison Apple Necklace day, what do you think? She's already on page 7. Just goes to show that it's much better when you get to pick your own books - doesn't matter if you are nine or ninety. And it helps when your books come with jewels. 

I'm Just Thinking About Things

Little gal is pretty much always happy unless she is not. Turning nine can be challenging, especially when your birthday is in the summer which means that you NEVER get to take cupcakes to school for your classmates. But why can't I take cupcakes to YMCA camp? Well, because your mother is only good at making cupcakes twelve at at time, and just can't fathom the idea of making over half a hundred of the things! So I promised to make some that she could take during the school year to pretend it was her birthday...which really is not that much better with thirty-nine kids in her class, but I am hoping that she is using kid math and not actual math! Time to get out the apron.  

First Days of School

I am kindergarten,

first, 

second, 

third,

 and fourth, 

ready for my flight to knowledge

Little Girl's Dream

L: Are those stuffed animals? Aw, that one is cute! and that one is cute!...

work by Claude Cormier found via Inhabitat

5/365

On picture day the classroom was swelling with high expectations and lots of hair combing, at least twice to make sure. When it was her turn she moved slowly around the green screen until she was standing in front of the bright lights and the photographer, who looked like her teenaged brother in a tie that clipped on, but she would not have known that. She could feel the sweat in her underarms and on her nose, even though probably no one else could see it. The guy told her to stand with her left hand on her hip in an attempt to look casual for this year’s spring pictures, in which everyone would be looking painfully casual. 

All faults may be forgiven of him who has perfect candor. -Walt Whitman

Are you paying attention? I love you all.

Seven

Oh my dear young lady, burning with a love of all things pink and good, she is full of the self that I once was but have long forgone. Bright eyes that see with a love of the world that is so far unblemished and perfect in its belief. A body that is still small enough to envelop, but not for much longer. As has always been with her, a certainty of self that often dwarfs my own. That is what her father has given her, and if I have imparted kindness to her than that is enough for now.

I know where you live, and I will be coming to get you when it is convenient for me