aw shucks!

The "Bodacious" corn (yes. actual name. I think it's some kind of Britney Spears hybrid starch) is finally ripe at our local country farm. I love the implicit trust the owners have in their local customers. When their sweet teenage daughters aren't there to run the stand they simply put a little metal box out on a card table and know that we will respect the handwritten "4 ears/$2.00" sign, dutifully tucking our bills into it's open slot. The sign is taped against a blue plastic kiddy wading pool, filled with corn as thick as a mans forearm, picked that morning. It's so fresh that the tassels haven't even turned brown yet! We wait all summer for this; so the kids are happy to shuck them clean for supper.

I found this reproduction of Rodin's famous sculpture "The Thinker" recently. For the bargain price of $2 I thought it was a wonderful piece of classical art for our schoolroom (aka the living room). I moved it all around until it was just-so on the entertainment center, near a plant. Sam wanted to know why "we have a brown naked guy sitting on the toilet?" up there and I started to explain "No, guys, it's called "The Thinker", it's a famous sculpture..." and Caleb interrupts with "Yeah, and I know what he's thinking! He's thinking--
Why are we out of toilet paper again?"
(This only confirms my desire to cover the classical arts better in our 08-09 curriculum)

John took the kids to the nickel arcade on Saturday. You see how serious Josiah and Sam are at shooting? How diligently they stare at the screens? How determined they are that this constant maternal figure with the constant camera is not going to cause them to miss a good hit by pointing that Kodak at them again and prodding with her "hey! smile kids!"?
...we are not kids...we are men...men with guns...and you don't smile when a life -and a nickel- is on the line...sheesh...women...


See that grin? John doesn't mind AT ALL being a Dad to three boys. He does not detest having to go to video game Arcades. Knowing that bright lights, total lack of windows and constant noise cues an instant migraine for his wife, John will lovingly drop me off at a nearby scrapbook store (with his checkbook-ah!) and spend 2 hours "helping" his sons spend every last one of the nickels from his change jar. (and more.) Such sacrifices! What a Dad!

See why I call it the Kiddy Casino? Look at Caleb here. He and his Dad "figured out" a certain machine and "hit the jackpot 4 times! We totally cleaned it OUT!" He got a light saber, and a whoopee cushion and candy for all those tickets.

Oh boy. If? in 20 years? we are all asking for prayer? Because a boy we love is a serial gambler? Stealing from us all for just one more Keno hit? and living under a bridge? Well have mercy and please don't remind me of when it probably all started. Be merciful enough not to pull up this post and point out how it was an inevitable consequence of our poor parenting choices...

Now this is the kind of life-changing advice you just don't expect to get from an Oregon state restroom facility. Just proves my strong belief that truth pops up in unexpected places.

So keep your eyes and heart open!