Monday, April 17, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
Odysseus, the hamster
We have many pets.
Two nearly-invincible northern leopard frogs survived their metamorphosis and spend their days hiding under plastic rocks wondering why we forget to feed them for weeks on end. They are extremely boring, and if we hadn't grown them from tadpoles, and if we didn't live in the desert we would probably liberate them and use their tank for something more interesting. Like moss.
We also have a 29 gallon freshwater tank full of the meanest, orneriest, breedingest convict cichlids you'd ever want to meet. They have so many babies so frequently (and then eat them) that we have no idea how many there are in there. They range in size from nearly 5 inch Sharky, who is the patriarch, to baby Poo-Poo bandit at the size of Ughabugha's baby toenail. In between we have Tuna, Playdough and Aris-toddle, and Fifi who has adopted highfalutin French manners since she is the only pink fish since the unfortunate fin-ripping incident of '05 that took the life of her mother, Pinky. Then there are the as-yet unnamed masses. These are not so pretty as some aquarium fish, but by heck they are interesting.
And please don't forget Rosey. Sweet, gentle, lonely Rosey Rabbit, who this time last year had a wife (Yep, Rosey is a boy. The particulars of baby rabbit reproductive anatomy were subtle for a 5 year old Dodo) and cage full of baby bunnies with him. Then we get him fixed, sell the babies, and two weeks later Evil Veela (the bunny wife) goes to rabbit Nirvana.
So he's alone now. We only had Veela a few months, and she hated us, but still it hurts. I mean, that rabbit would growl at us like a dog. We've had our Rosey for years and he put up with all sorts of "lets-put-Rosey-in-a-bonnet-and-push-him-in-the-doll-stroller" antics. She bit us when we tried to pet her, she scratched me when I fed her, she even fought with gentle Rosey. In short, she was a terrible pet, but she was the first pet I ever killed. We think her heart broke when we sold the babies and she stopped eating.It was so sad. I haven't the heart to get another rabbit just now, but eventually we will.
Okay, so we have plenty of animals just now, so whatever possessed me to buy a hamster? Dunno. It was a whim out of nowhere one day.
Scote says, " Can I have some sandwhich cheese?" And I'm like, "How about a hamster?"
I suggested we name him Archimedes or Einstein. Scote looks at me as if I am the most retarded person in the world. He does this weird thing where he squinches up his lip, and cocks one eyebrow. "He's not even that smart, mom." he says, " He's a hamster."
Oh yeah. Gotcha.
Dodo suggested Odysseus. "Or Ulysses. they mean the same thing." She says.
"Is he the one with the cyclops that bashes heads on the rocks?" Scote asks.
"Yep."
Odysseus, the hamster welcome to the Eccentric Zoo.
Two nearly-invincible northern leopard frogs survived their metamorphosis and spend their days hiding under plastic rocks wondering why we forget to feed them for weeks on end. They are extremely boring, and if we hadn't grown them from tadpoles, and if we didn't live in the desert we would probably liberate them and use their tank for something more interesting. Like moss.
We also have a 29 gallon freshwater tank full of the meanest, orneriest, breedingest convict cichlids you'd ever want to meet. They have so many babies so frequently (and then eat them) that we have no idea how many there are in there. They range in size from nearly 5 inch Sharky, who is the patriarch, to baby Poo-Poo bandit at the size of Ughabugha's baby toenail. In between we have Tuna, Playdough and Aris-toddle, and Fifi who has adopted highfalutin French manners since she is the only pink fish since the unfortunate fin-ripping incident of '05 that took the life of her mother, Pinky. Then there are the as-yet unnamed masses. These are not so pretty as some aquarium fish, but by heck they are interesting.
And please don't forget Rosey. Sweet, gentle, lonely Rosey Rabbit, who this time last year had a wife (Yep, Rosey is a boy. The particulars of baby rabbit reproductive anatomy were subtle for a 5 year old Dodo) and cage full of baby bunnies with him. Then we get him fixed, sell the babies, and two weeks later Evil Veela (the bunny wife) goes to rabbit Nirvana.
So he's alone now. We only had Veela a few months, and she hated us, but still it hurts. I mean, that rabbit would growl at us like a dog. We've had our Rosey for years and he put up with all sorts of "lets-put-Rosey-in-a-bonnet-and-push-him-in-the-doll-stroller" antics. She bit us when we tried to pet her, she scratched me when I fed her, she even fought with gentle Rosey. In short, she was a terrible pet, but she was the first pet I ever killed. We think her heart broke when we sold the babies and she stopped eating.It was so sad. I haven't the heart to get another rabbit just now, but eventually we will.
Okay, so we have plenty of animals just now, so whatever possessed me to buy a hamster? Dunno. It was a whim out of nowhere one day.
Scote says, " Can I have some sandwhich cheese?" And I'm like, "How about a hamster?"
I suggested we name him Archimedes or Einstein. Scote looks at me as if I am the most retarded person in the world. He does this weird thing where he squinches up his lip, and cocks one eyebrow. "He's not even that smart, mom." he says, " He's a hamster."
Oh yeah. Gotcha.
Dodo suggested Odysseus. "Or Ulysses. they mean the same thing." She says.
"Is he the one with the cyclops that bashes heads on the rocks?" Scote asks.
"Yep."
Odysseus, the hamster welcome to the Eccentric Zoo.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Okay, so I am here killing time, trying to avoid watching the Presidential address this evening. (Shudder) Much as I adore (cough, cough) the president and his brilliant (ahem) plans for our nation, I'd rather not slog through some spin-docotors predigested tripe as it is spewed through ole GW's mouth.
Yetch.
It would be one thing if he was actually speaking to us instead of that pedantic, mind-numbing regurgitated speech.
Oh, well.
It's given me time to think, and tonight I am thinking about my own theory of education. It's developing, somewhere past zygote but not quite full-term, just floating along, absorbing nutrients and changing and growing. I ran a DNA test and was shocked to see that there are an unusual number of parents of this child....either that or I just stole body parts in a Frankenstienish attempt to create a new life.
At any rate, here they are...
John Taylor Gatto--From him I stole a bit of guts, the courage to know I could do it better than they were. He also provided some beautifully derisive metaphors for public schooling that come in handy with homeschool-doubters.
Maria Montessori--the bones. She was one of my very earliest influences, back when my Dodo was still a baby, and the prepared environment has been a part of our life ever since. The backbone of my own sort of classical/eclectic/unschoolingness is my version of the prepared environement. My baby's gonna have great bone structure with genes like this.
Susan Wise Bauer and Jessie Wise--the brains. I know they didn't invent the concept of doing history chronologically, but it was from their book that I first learned it. It was an epiphany for me, a glorious aha! moment. Their book is full of moments like that. I also stole Latin, Greek roots, and the idea of a spine to hold studies together without a structured plan. I don't think they intended it that way, but it works for us.
John Holt--The lungs, the deep breath of relaxation and confidence that learning is happening all the time, that learning is not something that has to be taught.
Early Childhood Educators--okay I am stretching my metaphor a bit with this one, since it isn't one actual person, but I have learned so much from this field. Where else would I have discovered the imaginary play, sensory play, sand tables, dry rice, collages, finger paint and wooden blocks so dear to my heart? From them I stole the heart, that lively beat that keeps us going. Also an inordinate fondness leaning towards obsession for arts and crafts supplies.
Ruth Beechick--her practical feet keep me down to earth. When I am off being obsessed with raising my super-brains to be scientists or mathematicians she grounds me, she says it's okay to slow down and just get through the day, learning is fun and that is how it should stay. Keep your expectations high, but they don't always have to be sky-high.
Mary Poppins--that droll, sometimes prissy but always kindly smile. A smile that speaks in a cultured British voice and says, "I am willing to give you some sugar to help that medicine go down, but if I believe this medicine is necessary then you will be taking it whether you care for it or not. But lets not ruin a perfectly splendid day worrying about it."
Charlotte Mason-- the eyes to see the natural world, and a large old-fashioned skirt just perfect for grasping children, or for shy children to hide behind, or as a nice shady canopy for our long, leisurely nature picnics.
Okay my metaphor is beyond strained, time to exit.
~EC
Yetch.
It would be one thing if he was actually speaking to us instead of that pedantic, mind-numbing regurgitated speech.
Oh, well.
It's given me time to think, and tonight I am thinking about my own theory of education. It's developing, somewhere past zygote but not quite full-term, just floating along, absorbing nutrients and changing and growing. I ran a DNA test and was shocked to see that there are an unusual number of parents of this child....either that or I just stole body parts in a Frankenstienish attempt to create a new life.
At any rate, here they are...
John Taylor Gatto--From him I stole a bit of guts, the courage to know I could do it better than they were. He also provided some beautifully derisive metaphors for public schooling that come in handy with homeschool-doubters.
Maria Montessori--the bones. She was one of my very earliest influences, back when my Dodo was still a baby, and the prepared environment has been a part of our life ever since. The backbone of my own sort of classical/eclectic/unschoolingness is my version of the prepared environement. My baby's gonna have great bone structure with genes like this.
Susan Wise Bauer and Jessie Wise--the brains. I know they didn't invent the concept of doing history chronologically, but it was from their book that I first learned it. It was an epiphany for me, a glorious aha! moment. Their book is full of moments like that. I also stole Latin, Greek roots, and the idea of a spine to hold studies together without a structured plan. I don't think they intended it that way, but it works for us.
John Holt--The lungs, the deep breath of relaxation and confidence that learning is happening all the time, that learning is not something that has to be taught.
Early Childhood Educators--okay I am stretching my metaphor a bit with this one, since it isn't one actual person, but I have learned so much from this field. Where else would I have discovered the imaginary play, sensory play, sand tables, dry rice, collages, finger paint and wooden blocks so dear to my heart? From them I stole the heart, that lively beat that keeps us going. Also an inordinate fondness leaning towards obsession for arts and crafts supplies.
Ruth Beechick--her practical feet keep me down to earth. When I am off being obsessed with raising my super-brains to be scientists or mathematicians she grounds me, she says it's okay to slow down and just get through the day, learning is fun and that is how it should stay. Keep your expectations high, but they don't always have to be sky-high.
Mary Poppins--that droll, sometimes prissy but always kindly smile. A smile that speaks in a cultured British voice and says, "I am willing to give you some sugar to help that medicine go down, but if I believe this medicine is necessary then you will be taking it whether you care for it or not. But lets not ruin a perfectly splendid day worrying about it."
Charlotte Mason-- the eyes to see the natural world, and a large old-fashioned skirt just perfect for grasping children, or for shy children to hide behind, or as a nice shady canopy for our long, leisurely nature picnics.
Okay my metaphor is beyond strained, time to exit.
~EC
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
No Day-wid!
My Ugha has officially fallen in love with her first book! She has always enjoyed her board books, will sit still for repeated tellings of short, simple classics like Brown Bear, Brown Bear or The Very Hungry Caterpillar, but this time it's for real. This time the battered paperback book is sleeping next to her each night in her toddler bed right next to her bedraggled blanket, this time she gathers her baby dollies around her to listen as she "Weedz it ow-loud" from memory and cackles gleefully while describing the illustrations.
The lucky book? No, David by David Shannon.
The lucky book? No, David by David Shannon.
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