Sophie got into a fit of domesticity, or whatever you call it when someone feels like baking, grabs a cookbook, and makes the same recipe two days in a row.
Not that I complained, mind you. Well, there was a brief protest, but it lost credibility because I was busy eating apple muffins while doing it.
Charles Portis continues to be the smartest, bravest, most adorable praying mantis in the whole wide world.
I try to rein myself in when talking about him, dear reader. I try to play it cool, when in reality I want to gesticulate wildly, overpunctuate, and use extreme tonal inflection: HEY GUESS WHAT?!! I have a PRAYING MANTIS!!
It's like owning the world's tiniest dragon or something equally as mind boggling. He has these crazy, raptorial forearms which got simply enormous with his last molt, his exoskeleton is kind of scaly, and I don't doubt he could breathe fire on me if he put his mind to it.
Caroline gets it. She's my sweet little bug girl, so tender hearted and filled with wonder, while also making peace with the harsh realities of the food chain.
I keep thinking I should devote a blog post to why I think fostering an appreciation of insects in children, especially in terms of keeping one as a pet, is a worthy pursuit. I've always been one to point bugs out in the wild and my general thought has been to respect their natural habitat. It was not until I saw some rainbow scarabs in an exhibit at the San Diego Zoo last year that it even crossed my mind to keep them in captivity.
At any rate, since acquiring dung beetles of my own, and now with this more recent experience of keeping a praying mantis, I've noticed a certain effect on my girls: a small refinement, a deepening appreciation, a higher awareness of life in its most miniature form which, I believe, lends itself to a more respectful navigation overall.
Though you can obviously conduct this experiment with bugs discovered in your own backyard, I cannot recommend highly enough this site as an additional source for such pursuits. It's owned by a guy named Peter who is probably the equivalent of a cabinet minister in the world of insect enthusiasts. Cabinet minister? What am I talking about?! He's more like second in command. Or possibly first, and I'm just not important enough to know it.
I came across this deer the other morning and I swear, this is how I see myself when running through the desert: bounding, springing, soaring through the air. It's how I feel, at least. The reality is much different, I'm sure. The reality is some middle aged woman plodding along, though I can hardly bear to write those words much less believe in them.
And that is the beauty of a good imagination.
Sophie woke up that same morning, asked for some linen and thread, then came downstairs several hours later saying: here.
At which moment I swooned and Caroline had to go fetch the smelling salts.
Bringing us to last night, which is not technically part of the weekend, but technicalities have to be bigger than that in order to register in my mind: Izzy performed a recital for a small gathering of friends in our home. She has an upcoming competition and has been working very hard to prepare.
When the girls were younger and it was impossible to get all three to smile for the camera at once, I often consoled myself with thoughts of how much easier it would be to achieve this phenomenon when they were a bit more grown up.
Maybe in another few years...