I do not, however, own a monocle. Because that would be ridiculous.

"Daddy, I need a top hat for a spirit week at school. Where am I going to find a top hat?"

"I have a top hat."

"Really?? Why do you have a top hat??"

"One is either the type of person that owns a top hat, or the type of person that needs a top hat. You are the latter. Fortunately for you, I am the former." 

And we call the snow shovel "Back talk"

One of the consequences of a construction project is a lot of spare wood lying around. Piles of it. Buckets of it. And this is Maine. We don't waste anything up here. Certainly not anything burnable. Because it was -13 degrees here this morning when I walked the dog.  And things I can burn for precious warmth are treasured commodities. 

Another consequence of Maine winter is a lot of indoor time. We have a 12 year and a 7 year old sharing the same house. Which sometimes leads to noise. And noise is not nearly as treasured. 

Our contractors (who are, by the way, fantastic), are all fathers. They understand that sometimes, a little manual labor is the perfect educational aid. We explained the situation, and made a special request. They were happy to set aside the scrap for us, and label it appropriately. 

A little too much indoor time? A little too much sniping at your younger brother? A little too much whining about what your sister said? A few too many questions about what I asked you to do the first time? 

We have the answer for all of that.

This pile is in the wrong place. Please move it over there.

All of it.

Neatly.

Until you're done. 

I feel warmer already. 

Pardon the quiet

There's been much going on, and I will write more on that later. Some of it's been difficult to write about. Some of it's been inappropriate because of timing. Mostly, I've just been pre-occupied, but am looking forward to a little quiet time to reflect & write. 

For now, I'll share this. Both the kids seem to have been infected with the writing bug as well. 

This month, the Critter was published. And I don't mind bragging about it. 

Only a Grady kid would use 'the sweet scent of breakfast" in a poem...