The month of May and the first half of June proved an absolute whirlwind for the Wilsons: closing the the school year and baseball and field days and ballet recitals and school plays and end-of-the-year parties of every sort... and did I mention baseball? My response to the overload was a two-hour venting session with one of my best friends. She graciously listened to me rant about our family's overcrowded schedule and responsibilities and commitments. I wanted our kids HOME, with NO schedule - all my little chicks under our roof without demands and entanglements and wacky schedules.
This is my kids' response earlier today to being locked outside in the back yard.
I told the same friend about locking the children outside today, and she said, "I've heard of moms who do that."
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
In June 1783, three-year-old Sarah Whitcher wanders into the woods and disappears.
Got your attention? Enough to make you want to read this children's book describing the true story? What about when you read on that for three long days friends and neighbors search the woods in Warren, New Hampshire with no luck, until a group of men find bear tracks lined up right behind a child's footprints. Through a series of incredible (miraculous) events, Sarah is found after the search had been called off, and the young adventurer tells her rescuers of the "big black dog" that kept her warm every night.
The Bear That Heard Crying. A must-read. You'll love it as much or even more than your children enjoy it. The story is told simply but with great expression and detail (my favorite part is when the mommy faints as the rescuer carries a very-much-alive Sarah through the door). The illustrations are colorful and vivid and lifelike. And best of all, the pages are filled with more watercolor illustrations than words.
A friend recommended this book to me, partly because of the content, but mainly because the artist's drawings of the three-year-old little girl reminded her of our little Esther.
There are some books I hope to never part with. One sure-fire way to tell is when I can't read the entire story aloud without choking up. Adds a little drama when the nine-year-old neighbor boy walks in our home right as I'm crying, wondering what in the world is wrong with Mrs. Wilson. And my kids don't blink... they tell him, "She always does this."
No, not always. Only with a really, really great book.