a domestic miscellany

Iain wins the prize for creativity and obedience this week. Well, that's true most weeks, but never mind. We hold out hope that his siblings will copy his cheerful attitude and at least appreciate the fantastic tales he spins. His two most precious moments of the last week or so:
(1) several days ago, I gave a very specific instruction to the children before I went upstairs to gather my things in preparation for the morning school/work run. Don't tip out the legos; we need to leave in a few minutes. (I admit that may seem somewhat arbitrary to those who don't mind coming home to a living room floor covered in brightly colored plastic rectangles and squares. I am not one of those people.) Within seconds of clearing the top step, I heard the familiar sound of the lego bin being turned over. At exactly the same moment, I heard a lovely little voice saying insistently, 'but mummy said no!' I can't remember whether Iain prevailed over his brother, actually; I was just so pleased that he had heeded the instruction I didn't care whether the legos were all over the floor. Some things are more important than a tidy living room.
(2) Yesterday, Iain had to have two immunization injections. He wasn't pleased when I explained to him where we were going and why, and there were some tears on the way to the doctor's office. When we arrived, we read his new favorite book, which I had just received from amazon that morning. (This was my first read-through: Captain Pike looks after the baby was a nursery book, not one we had at home. I recommend it.) Our turn came, and we found the right door (eventually), and a very kind nurse met us. She was much gentler than the last nurse we'd seen, and I was glad. I was as traumatized as Iain after the last round of immunizations--and that only invoved one needle! He sat still, though, in spite of his tears. Afterward, he observed the tiny dot of blood that showed through the little band-aid the nurse had applied. What's that? he asked, then answered his own question: it looks like blood. I nodded. Well, that's very interesting, he said. Trauma over. By the time we got home, the jabs were a part of a new story he made up about some pirates and a sea monster (who, incidentally, bit one of the pirates in the leg).

The prize for most thoughtful action of the past five days goes to Thomas. Last Friday evening, he amused himself by testing me on his spelling words. Since I didn't miss any, he got some help from Daddy and from our friend, Mim, in creating a spelling test certain to stump me. I managed vicariate and catacrestically, but was eventually tripped up by 'gymkhana'. To be fair, I had no idea what it was, and my strategy for spelling it came from having grown up with words derived from Spanish and various Native American languages. The next morning, Thomas presented me with a piece of paper, on which was written the word 'gymkhana'. Just so you don't forget how to spell it, he explained.

I shall endeavor to work it into my next bit of academic writing.