It seems to be a pattern: I wake up, make some coffee, and get to work. My boys, ages 9 and 13, eventually migrate to my office space to do their weekend homework. Some blogging, some French verbs, a photo essay: all kinds of things on their agendas. We play some music, chit-chat, and hang. Today, we listened to the CBC news which led into a long conversation about the Ukraine and war and politics. It was a bit heavy so we countered that by baking cookies.
Even though my partner and I are not organized religion types, I do occasionally feel like I am doing my children a cultural disservice by not giving them a religious education. Then I remember that Sunday mornings in my childhood Catholic household were sometimes really miserable affairs — being forced to dress up, fighting with my brothers, sitting through a bo-o-o-ring church service with a frequently undecipherable sermon.
Yeah, I think our Sunday mornings are better.
I Don’t Think He Understands What I Do
Shaving lessons down the hallway, deep discussions of tsunamis in here. Life is mighty fine.
Black Creek Pioneer Village
At a school BBQ I discovered how the bat impacted all of us
Making the most of the last days of summer.