Pathway Home

Heading out of the Sacred Grove at Palmyra. New York is finally starting to thaw.

Faulty Towers

Oops.

Goldilocks on Porridge: "Just Right"

Today Claire proclaimed oatmeal as her favorite food. Which is quite a marketing accomplishment considering the rest of my kids' disdain for the stuff.

February's proclamation (by partisan charcutier Jimmy Dean) as National Hot Breakfast Month played a contributing role, but my reverse psychology and feigned hardship were probably the biggest factors.

• "You wouldn't like it."
• "Only grown-ups eat this."
• "It takes too long ..." [WHINGING] "... Oh, OK, I'll make it."

Claire asks for oatmeal every morning, but I usually only have time on the weekends, which makes it feel special. The big blob of honey mixed in, along with raisins, cinnamon, nutmeg, bananas, strawberries, and blueberries don't hurt either.

Sleetstorm

Pearls of ice glistening in the sun after last night's sleetstorm. Deicing the car this morning I took a corner too quickly and went down fast.

I[ntrovert] Before E[xtrovert], Except After C[ostumes]

A few weeks ago we had parent conferences with the elementary kids’ teachers. Claire’s second grade teacher said she wished Claire would speak up more in class, she was so quiet and introverted. Complete shock: are we talking about the same kid?


At home Claire is constantly talking, asking questions, singing, or making random noise — just for the sake of making noise. Late at night as I check her in bed before I go to sleep, she often starts talking in jumbled sentences. She laughs when I recount her conversation from the previous night. When she’s not talking nonstop, she’s tackling Carter, thumping around making even more racket. I don't see how this could be the same kid.


This weekend I ran a dress-up costume photo booth for kids and families at our church carnival, and Claire's true personality went public. I have the photo set on Flickr to prove it.


This reminds me of my old work friend, Carol. She used to be pretty reserved. That is, until the time we dressed her in an Easter Bunny costume at a meeting of 100 business and community leaders from our city. With her identity concealed she started skipping around, handing out candy, shaking everybody's hands ... along with her cotton tail. Something about a costume inspires transformation.