Don't let the dog play the game

Perhaps you've seen the Pigeon books by Mo Willems. The one that I always think of is Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus. I'm not a fan of the Pigeon books, but that was immediately what came to mind when I saw this series of pictures on the camera today.

Don't let the dog play the game.

Please, please let me play the game?

I'm good at games. Really.

If you let me play the game I promise I'll be good for ever and ever and ever.

Well if you're not going to let me play the game I guess I'll have to go cry in the corner. Boo hoo! ... Have you changed your mind yet?

You didn't let the dog play the game, did you? Phew! Thanks a lot.

And if you're not annoyed yet, then the Pigeon books are probably for you. Personally I think it's adult humor, sarcastic in nature, innapropriately aimed at children. The Piggy and Elephant books (There is a Bird on Your Head!) by the same author is a better series with a similar dry humor, minus the sarcasm. We kind of enjoyed those.

Sick day

First, the cat's out of the bag. Or box, as it may be. I'm not likely to make it to the computer on Wednesday nights because that's our guilty pleasure night. Wednesday nights we are parked in front of the TV for Criminal Minds, a guilty pleasure for a family that otherwise gives wide berth to the TV in the corner.

But even all that sitting didn't keep me from waking up sick this morning, fighting fire in my throat and aches in my head. I managed breakfast, then I managed piano practice—Since Calvin finished the second book this week we've been playing a review game, rolling dice and using the hundreds chart to add them up to determine which page to play next.

After piano I managed a shower and a trip to the library for book sorting and then story time. After that I managed lunch, but as soon as the lunch dishes were closed inside the washer I retreated to bed. Earlier, as I watched Jon leave for work, nursing my aches from the comforts of my favorite chair, I sat in dread of the day. Moms don't get sick days, after all, especially homeschooling moms. And a year ago it probably wouldn't have gone so well, but now I have a very sweet, very empathetic, four year old boy, so after lunch we collected all the books and art materials we could carry and set up camp on my bed where we proceded to spend the entire afternoon. He read to me, I read to him, we drew pictures, we talked about strange things, imaginary things, we cuddled.

Did you know that they use ferries to take loaded trains across the Great Lakes? That's thanks to the awesome Great Lakes Great Ships book we got at the library sale last weekend.

This was the best sick day ever.

What a Saturday should be

There are no hard and fast rules about what makes a good Saturday, but I would  definitely put today into that category. We slept in and enjoyed some early morning quiet. There was coffee and english muffins for us and shaped pancakes and juice for Calvin. There was a fire, some chess, a little family time. Around eleven we struck out for downtown Ann Arbor, the wind still howling but a bright sun shining, with the intention of getting a book from the library there. I thought I'd just jump out and run in to get the one book we needed—the next in the Oz series—but Calvin wanted to go in too, so since we had to find parking anyhow we first stopped at my favorite book seller's (West Side Book Shop) and then at the little toy store nearby (which is Lexi's, but it turns out Calvin is too old for them now). We found the book we needed at the library and also noticed the sign for their book sale going on in the basement (turns out they're open every weekend, so next time we're hungry for a sale we can just go there). That sale turned out to be pure magic for us today.

Back at home it was all Legos all afternoon. Well, Legos and we painted some more on our pictures (which are almost done), spent some time exploring the new books, watched City Lights (Charlie Chaplin), did some chores, counted birds, took naps, and read three chapters in the book we checked out from the library, the next Oz book in the series.

A truly diverse train station.

Jon's creation—the zoo. Note the elephant, snake, skunk, and turtle. I don't know what the red and blue thing in the back is, though.

But the celebrated moment of the day, the activity we've looked forward to all week, came this evening: after the wind had died down, and before the arrival of tomorrow's winter storm clouds, we went on a snow moon night hike at our nearby county park. We love our county naturalist. She taught Calvin about making maple syrup and she's the one who guided our owl hike over a year ago when we actually met a screech owl. Tonight's weather, chilly but perfectly clear, was ideal for the bonfire, Native American folk stories, star gazing, and owl hunt. No owls found us this time, but as the little girl in Calvin's most recent picture book, Owl Moon, says, "sometimes there's an owl and sometimes there isn't." The stars were phenomenal, though, and we got hear two packs of coyotes communicating across the lake and the sonorous tones of the lake ice shifting and giving way to the (slightly) warmer spring air. Don't forget the marshmallows, either.

It's now ten o'clock and we just go Calvin tucked into bed. I think he may have been asleep before his head hit the pillow and if I wasn't so enthralled with the new books, which I now absolutely must skim through, I might be there myself.

Books.

We are members of our local library friends organization. As members Calvin and I go once a week to help sort recently donated books and get them ready for the monthly sale. When I first volunteered for this job, and was told that I would be assigned one day each week while other volunteers covered the remaining days, I couldn't imagine there would be enough books to keep us all busy. As it turns out there are enough books donated that I have yet to arrive and have nothing to sort. There is always at least one grocery back full of books, but more often we find four or five times that. I love being surrounded by the books. I love touching them, smelling them, and leafing through them. Calvin is rarely bored, either, especially since children's books make up the bulk of most donations.

Last Friday we were there sorting the handful of books we found on our arrival when one of the librarians came down to let us know that 16 bags of books had just been dropped off, music to my ears. Even better, this kindly patron had great taste and left us sorting through a real treasury of books, many of them from the 1950s and 60s. Possibly the best part was that two bags of these were not sellable by friends standards because they had that musty smell, and a few other undesirable traits, so I brought them home and sorted them here. Did you know that kitty litter will take that musty smell out of books? Just leave them in a sealed storage container with an inch or two of kitty litter in the bottom for a few days, sometimes longer. I owe my Godmother for that advice; it has served me well and we are now about ten 1960s treasures heavier on our bookshelves.

We find books irresistible.

Don't bother me, I'm reading