Fire and ice

I have no pictures from today—it was too dark and dreary.

We watched it snow from the comforts of a house warmed by our newly installed, very efficient furnace. And thanks to the new thermostat I was also able to see that while we were a cozy 68 degrees inside, it was a chilly 32 outside. The snow makes Calvin giggle.

For a meaningful juxtaposition we spent the afternoon mapping the journey taken by our earliest ancestors—the journey that started in a desert-like Africa and spread to the rest of the earth during the rising and falling of oceans. If this inquiry into our past has taught me anything it's that there really is some good TV out there. To BBC, National Geographic, and PBS, I thank you.

We discovered The Incredible Human Journey, a series of BBC specials on the human migration out of Africa. We watched it in small bits we could find on YouTube and we've only watched the first of five episodes so far, but Calvin loved it, and we'll be watching the others in due time. We also used a variety of book and internet sources to map the possible migration and create a timeline of human evolution (like watching Beringia disappear,or some of the graphics on this college syllabus). I have yet to make the neanderthals out of felt. We'll see how that goes.

There was also piano practice, and another section in math (and I ordered the next book because he's only five lessons away from finishing the first), some playing with Legos (the farm had to be put into winter mode), some playing with felt, and a lot of playing "caveman" all over the house. At one point I found a variety of items piled up in the middle of the floor over which the little boy was striking two imaginary rocks.

And so we have fire.

On to the Neanderthal stage

Jon and I were just talking the other day about stages. Ever since Calvin was born I've found myself longing to hold onto stages of life—not so much "the baby stage" or "the toddler stage", but the "diapers are easier and I don't want to have to potty train" stage, or the "I feel safer with him in a crib and can't imagine him in a real bed" stage, or even the "I'm not ready to let go of the baby monitor" stage (and that was just last spring).

What we were talking about a couple days ago was how Calvin has defined each stage for us, as long as we were listening, and how letting him do so avoided any stresses for all of us. Just about the time I was worried about potty training he came downstairs in the morning and said he was done with diapers. Not much later he asked us for a "big boy bed", and just last spring he came into our room when he needed us at night without my needing to hear him on the monitor.

It hasn't just been with standard milestone stages, either. About a year ago he decided to learn to read and promptly did so, and this spring he decided to "study math" so he could play Monopoly. He goes through all kinds of stages—physical, mental, emotional (right now I'm enjoying a new "cuddle mommy" stage), some being obvious, others a little more subtle, but if we listen carefully he's giving us directions every step of the way.

We've been making our way through prehistory, and as in love as we were with the creatures of the Carboniferous, then with the dinosaurs of the Mesozoic, and now with the prehistoric mammals of the Cenozoic, with each step I've dragged my feet, reluctant to leave the beloved behind. This morning I came downstairs, still groggy with sleep because I'm the slow one in the morning, and was presented with a "cave drawing" by a little boy who was letting me know that it was time to move on to our study of early humans and their path into recent history from there.

He asked me for a family of Neanderthals, their cave, and a fire, all out of felt.

And so on we go.

Tomorrow, since today we spent mostly running errands or playing in the sunshine.

Sunny Tuesday

Our days now start closer to seven in the morning rather than eight, a blessing in disguise thanks to the time change. I really love the extra hour in the morning, but does that mean I can force myself to get up on a regular basis? No, but that time change sure works wonders. Calvin started his day at the piano, and being earlier means he can spend that time with his dad, which is great since piano is something they like to do together. I started my day with coffee and a crossword. 

By nine we were busy researching mammoths—woolly mammoths, to be specific—and the next thing we knew it was almost noon. That's a lot to learn about woolly mammoths, plus I made him one out of felt (the population on the downstairs Cenozoic timeline is growing) while he filled out an animal report form on the fuzzy guy. The boy has a thing for mammoths these days. Along with penguins and indricotheres and...

In looking for more information on woolly mammoths we came across a great online guide to the La Brea Tar Pits, and that entertained us for quite a bit longer.

We watched Becoming Human (ep. 3) over lunch, then wandered outside to rake leaves, toss the football (he's getting pretty good), and pester the cat through the window. Plus we found some confused raspberries on our bush.

Pirate play and creativity, more prehistoric mammals on the felt line, and after dinner he read to me before bed because we can't seem to find the book that I had been reading to him. Where is that black hole in the house?

Rainy Monday (yesterday)

I may never, in all of my life, recover from the "waking up for work on a Monday" feeling sufficiently enough to deflate the elation of waking up on a Monday and not having to go anywhere. It's been over five years now and I can still say that, and I hope I always can.

That feeling of elation is tripled when the Monday is a rainy one, because it's that kind of Monday that was specifically made for staying at home and being cozy. In fact, we swapped our pajamas for street clothes only long enough to go to the library and check on the sale room and swap some due books for some new books, then back to the pajamas.

I started the crock-pot just before lunch so that the smell would start to warm the house (vegetable soup), did two extra crosswords, and finished my new book. Calvin steadfastly alternated between math at the kitchen table and music at the piano all day. He was so happily dedicated to those spots that he finished two full sections in his math book today, and learned, almost to perfection, four new songs in his new piano book. We also colored prehistoric mammals, read books to the cat, and played mancala, watched the birds play in the soft splatters of rain on the deck.

Children's Concert Series

This afternoon Calvin and I went downtown to the Michigan Theater to see the Ann Arbor Symphony Orchestra in the first performance of their children's concert series. Over the past few days, in preparation for the event, we'd been listening to the program pieces (via YouTube concerts) and reading a bit about the composers and their compositions. Knowing that Calvin really will sit through a concert and enjoy it, I opted for seats in the front row of the balcony, thinking that the stage would be clearly visible from there, but other squirming children would not be. It was a children's "training concert", after all, and squirming and some disruption were to be expected.

I had not expected the mayhem that actually took place, however. Parents playing tag or hide-and-seek with their children, and another group of families that sat in a circle on the floor attacking each other with tickles, all eliciting excessive screaming and screeching in the lobby. And during the concert the occasional seat kicking, semi-loud exclamations of excitement, or standing to listen and bouncing to the beat are happily expected, but the children playing hopscotch in the aisles or holding loud conversations about toys and/or school were too many in number, and disruptive in a different, not enjoyable, way.

In all fairness, though, I think I was the only one of the two of us who was actually distracted. We made instruments, tried out real instruments, and decorated elephants before the show, then settled into our seats to enjoy the music we'd learned a bit about at home. There is only one more concert in the series (the pair?), but that doesn't come until March, so I will be looking for other symphony opportunities in the meantime.

The Story of Babar, Francis Poulenc

Toy Symphony, Leopold Mozart

Sorcerer's Apprentice, Paul Dukas