Just because Kirsten asked.

Halfway through the 2007 school year, we took Elly out of public school and taught her at home. She was having a really difficult time not being with me, although academically she was doing very well. Her separation anxiety manifested in a record number of stomach aches and “Mom, do I have a fever?” as the bus arrived at our driveway.

Darren and I went to great lengths to determine if there was a problem on the bus or with her teachers but our inquiries turned up nothing. She just wanted to “be with Mom”.

I wanted to be sensitive to her desire since the older kids had the benefit of homeschooling until they were older than Elly, and she always expressed the idea that she had somehow missed out on the circus-like fun of being taught at home.

This year we gave Elly the choice to go back to public school . Each time we broached the subject she would reply, “You guys are the parents. You decide.”

I began to suspect that she was worried that MY feelings would be hurt if she admitted she was ready to go back. She and I had alot of fun being alone together during the day. People tend to bond while singing multiplication facts karaoke-style.

When I informed Elly that I had made the decision that she was ready to return to public school, she was visibly relieved.

This morning, however, she seemed to get a little iffy about the whole thing. I reminded her that I would see her at school because I was covering the event for the paper. I kissed her goodbye and watched her shuffle to the bus stop.

I was at school, waiting, as she arrived and I watched as she found her friends on the playground. It was only after seeing this did I breathe a sigh of relief:

She’ll get by with a little help from her friends.

**Due to the sensitive nature of this post, names have been changes in order to protect the guilty**

We are fortunate to have central air conditioning in our home despite the fact that the unit which came with our house when we purchased it is just a little too small to cool properly on the really hot days.

Kyle and Cartman’s room tends to be the warmest in the house so they have a large fan in their room to help keep things tolerable in the heat of the summer evening.

Unfortunately, the fan has become a great source of contention between the brothers. They both want to fall asleep with the fan blowing directly on them because then they are the winner.

Tonight the fighting and arguing was in rare form. I ignored the ever-increasing volume of debate because I was too tired to care about something so trivial. All I wanted for the remaining hours of my evening was to sprawl, bra-less, on my couch with a spoon and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. I fantasized about it all day long.

“Mommmm! Tell Cartman to turn the fan on meeeee. He’s had it on him for the last two nightsssssssss,” pleaded Kyle in the tone of voice that makes me say really bad words in my head.

“Cartman!” I responded from the couch in the living room, “It’s Kyle’s turn to have the fan on him tonight and if you say one word about it, the fan is coming out of your room!”

I used the voice that tells the kids I mean business. It’s the voice where all words are connected together and sound a lot like a machine gun being fired into the air by a member of the Medellín Cartel.

It was effective for about five minutes before Kyle made one last battle cry:

“MOMMMMM! CARTMAN KEEPS FARTING INTO THE FAN FOR NO REASON AND IT’S BLOWING RIGHT INTO MY FACE AND HE HAD BEAN WITH BACON SOUP FOR SUPPER!!!!”

And so one wind ruined the other.

While on vacation, we did, indeed, have opportunity to wet our lines in a few lakes. The experience gave me insight on why my grandfather habitually lied in order to preserve the sanctity of his fishing hole.

Each time a child caught a fish, no matter the size, all the other children immediately beat a path to the exact location of the catch, as if all the fish in the lake were located in that one spot. I’m convinced it wasn’t an act of malice but more of an innate reaction common to all anglers.

This reaction, while humorous to observe, resulted in crossed lines, tangled bobbers and many, many verbal outbursts.

While it appears to be a mere minnow purchased from a bait store, Nathanael actually caught this fish with a common night crawler:

“Isn’t it cute?” he said as I snapped the photo.

Cute, for sure, but nothing for anyone to covet. Nothing that should have resulted in shoving or declarations of squatter’s rights. Yet the moment he caught this wee little fish, the rest of the kids cast their lines at the exact spot where Nathanael pulled it from the water. Because size doesn’t matter.

And poor Darren. He was the one who spent time untangling the messes over and over again while trying to explain that there are many fish in the lake and “Why not try over there? No one has fished there yet!”

His suggestions fell on 12 deaf ears. (Kait was tuning the whole scene out with her iPod.)

You can imagine what happened when Kevin caught this:

The resulting chaos prompted a conversation between Darren and me on whether or not to abandon the children on the shore of this remote lake.

“They can live on wild blueberries.” I offered.

“But where will they sleep?” he asked.

“I’m pretty sure someone will find the PERFECT spot and then all the others will stack themselves like cord wood on top of each other because no other spot will do.”

“What will the headlines read when we are found out?”

“Seven Children Last Seen In One 12-Inch Spot on the Shore of Lake Wobegon, Parents Enjoying the Solitude of Being in Custody”

“We could say that we left them on White Pine.”

“Oh, you are BRILLIANT! The authorities would fall for it hook, line and sinker.”

I won’t lie. For a second I thought Jesus was coming back and my first thought was “I hope He likes Folgers.”