This morning dawned warm and glorious, with the result that as soon as the kids had wolfed down their breakfasts and finished their assignments, they mounted a coordinated campaign to be allowed to romp outside. Since I had planned some basic skills reinforcement work for the late morning anyway, it seemed like a perfect day to play what we call “fence tag;” that had been on the agenda for yesterday, but a series of minor disasters that required my attention took that option off the table.
“Fence tag,” for those unfamiliar, involves chalking letters, numbers, shapes, and sometimes words onto the boards of a stockade fence, then assembling the ambulatory members of the midget mob in the middle of the yard, calling off one of the things that’s chalked on the fence, and watching tiny people scatter in an effort to be the first one to find the desired scribble. Whoever finds it first gets to call off the next one, and so on. Usually, I end up having to give each child his or her own symbol to seek until everyone gets into the swing of it; after that, Bugaboo, Beanie, and Mr. Man take over and play by themselves. Smudgie enjoys this games hugely, as he has a steady stream of opportunities to chase sprinting, shrieking small people. In other words, a good time is had by all, and everyone gets some basic concept reinforcement, some fresh air, some sunshine, and some exercise. There’s usually a fair amount of swinging on the swingset in between, to boot.
At any rate, while the tribe was picking up the indoor toys, I hastily chalked letters, numbers, and shapes on the fence with a giant blue sidewalk chalk, checked the immediate vicinity for Bo and Smudgie bombs, and hollered a reminder that wearing shoes is a requirement, not an option. Moments after I finished the last number, three pairs of croc-clad feet pounded out the back door and into the yard. If you’re up for a grin, watch the video (link will open in a new window).
Meantime, Baby Guy was watching the theatrics from the boys’ room, and enjoying the rare opportunity to have every single toy in the boys’ room to himself. He’s improving his mad crawling skills, and he expresses his pleasure at his newfound mobility with random giggle fits. He’s also talking more these days, so as I narrated the backyard goings-on for him, he sometimes echoed words back to me in his cheerfully grumbly baby voice — “go,” “one,” “Bo,” “door.”
It was just one of those mornings that makes me happy to be a homeschooling mom, with small, sparkling blessings too numerous to count, even if I did it by fives.
Today’s prayer: Lord, thank You for the food that fills our stomachs, the bees that pollinate our fruit trees, the abundance of tools You have given us with which to teach Your blessings, and a glimpse of Your Heaven on an ordinary Tuesday morning. To the eyes of the world, You were an ordinary carpenter, and that example teaches us that every ordinary thing can be holy if we have but the vision to see. Help me teach Your blessings that going about the everyday, the mundane, joyfully and with thanks to You on our lips, is a prayer. If we sing while we do it, we pray twice. Thank You for Your blessings and the delight they take in the world You made for us.