a conversation with Isaac

I listen to Isaac count, "thirteen-one, fourteen-one..."

Me: Isaac, what are you counting?
Isaac: I'm counting all the numbers.
Me: Well, that wasn't quite right.
Isaac: Why not?
Me (a little distracted): It just wasn't.
Isaac: Because there's no thirteen-one?
Me: That's right.
Isaac: Well, confinity is the last number.
Me: Yeah, that's right.
Isaac: What number comes right before confinity?
Me: Why don't you ask Daddy that one?
Isaac: Because he knows all the numbers?
Me: That's right.
Isaac: That's because he's really smart. You're a little bit smart, but Daddy is really smart.

Gee, thanks kid. But I just pawned the "last number before infinity" question off on Daddy. I think that makes me the smart one. :)

In honor of Felicity

Felicity celebrated her 14^th birthday this week. She is truly a daughter to be proud of: fun to talk to, kind and responsible with her siblings, extremely talented. To show off her talents, I'm including a story she wrote for our homeschool co-op. She's written longer things, but I really liked this one, and it's short enough to include here. Hope you enjoy it.

 

Edelweiss. The house shudders. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter. My legs get pulled closer to my chest as I tighten my grip on my arms. Edelweiss, I remind myself, Think of Edelweiss. My mind conjures up the image of the white flower in my head. It's soothing, one of those timeless calming things that pulls the mind to a safe place where it can shelter from any problems. But then a memory creeps in. Come on, Lisa! Stop looking at that flower, let's go! The impatient voice floods my mind with memories. I stifle a whimper by rocking back and forth. The wood floor creaks underneath me.

My eyes fly open, I freeze. And so do the half-dozen people surrounding me. The terror on their faces as they, we, breathlessly wait and listen for a sign that someone heard, is nowhere near how scared they really are inside. I know. It's like there's ice inside yourself and it just keeps on making you colder and colder. I close my eyes again, but they fly open again at the slightest noise. A creak, a tap, even the wind blowing around the old building we've taken refuge in makes me more alert and watchful. More scared. But I force my eyes closed anyway. Edelweiss, I remind myself once more. The calming flower takes its place in my thoughts once more as I shut out the sounds, and the memories. The memories of my family. The family that is no more. The family that was taken away by German soldiers, the German soldiers I miraculously escaped. That I am hiding from right now.

A door slams. I jump as boots clomp on the floor above me. My throat constricts even more. I try to keep each breath even and quiet, but it keeps on getting more and more ragged. My ears tell me that everyone else's is too. The footsteps above us begin to be the beat for our breaths. 

Then the footsteps creeping above us stop. I hear a door creak open. I pray that it isn't the door to the cellar, but one look at the landlady tells me otherwise. I slowly put my hand over my mouth to prevent myself from making any noise. I dig my toes into the soles of my worn shoes to prevent myself from rocking. I shiver, but there is no preventing that. My breath starts matching the faster steps of the boots coming down the stairs. In vain I try to slow it down. I lean as far back as I can into the wall behind me, and wish that the room I'm in wasn't so empty. Continuing this thought, I put to myself silently and sarcastically, Yes, also I wish I wasn't involved in this war. I wish I wasn't a Jew, and I wish, oh do I wish, that my family wasn't taken away. Dream on Lisa.

The boots have reached the end of the stairs. I know that the door is going to open any minute. I close my eyes and wish, ever so hard, that Death will be quick.

Edelweiss

 

Seven of Nine

We've been watching Star Trek: Voyager with the kids recently. Elisabeth looked up a picture of Seven of Nine on the internet and then made a sketch from it. I was so impressed because it's recognizable, so I thought I'd share it with the world. OK, I really just wanted to brag a little.

Overheard

Isaac: What's that in your hand?
Daddy: It's a staple gun.
Isaac: Can I hold it?
Daddy: Not this year.
Isaac: Tomorrow?
Daddy doesn't answer...
Isaac: Hey, maybe I should have a little one to shoot you with.

I love kids' conception of time.

I also love hearing Isaac and Tabitha talk about, "When we were a baby..." It's gotta be a twin thing cause it's never, "When I was a baby," or "When we were babies." It's as though they were once one baby and now they're two kids.