I try to leave Fridays chore free, heavy cooking free, and errand free, allowing us to stay in and enjoy pajamas, books, or whatever sounds good at the time. I enjoyed my own book, Calvin enjoyed his Playmobil guys for a while, and when we got bored with the quiet we turned on the radio and embarked on more exploration. Pyramids. Yesterday we read about modern Egypt and ancient Egypt and compared them then I gave him his choice of study and this is what he chose. So today we read about them and decided to build one out of Legos. There's definitely some math involved in pyramids, of course.We used some of that, and a good amount of imagination.
And when we'd finished one, he informed me that "Giza has three major pyramids," and we kept going.
And then there had to be camels, too.
And to complete the setup, he says, the Pyramids will each need their copy of The Book of the Dead, so he started making scrolls to roll up and place inside them.
And as I built pyramids, read books out loud, and watched him make his scroll from over the top of my own book, I was lost in thought and some further misgivings about yesterday's death conversation. I am torn here between following the path of his interest, and being concerned about a loss of sensitivity regarding death and loss. I am still mulling this over. And over and over. Am I over-thinking it? I'm sure, but I have a strong desire to stash the pyramids somewhere and turn to discussions of hippos, camels, crocodiles, and cuisine in Egypt, leaving death far behind. To follow, or to gently direct? I cannot decide.