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Posted by Veronica Boulden on December 11, 2011

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I took Norah to see a crazy dream house on Saturday, one more thing on her list of 101 things.

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"...the child should have a set time everyday to read for fun. Begin with half an hour for first graders, and build up to an hour of reading time daily... This is an important part of the child's education: it improves his reading skills, teaches him the habit of sitting still with a book, and reminds him that reading is fun... free reading ought to be spent on literature at or slightly below the child's present reading level so that he can simply enjoy himself. The easier reading will help him increase his speed." The Well Trained Mind: The Guide to Classical Education at Home by Jessie Wise and Susan Wise Bauer

"...and then she died, leaving Mig all alone with her father, who, on a market day in spring soon after his wife's death, sold his daughter into service for a handful of cigarettes, a red tablecloth, and a hen... Mig watched her father walk away... He left his daughter. And... he did not look back. Not even once. " That is the section from The Tale of Despereaux that we read a few days ago. I was totally unprepared for Norah's reaction to it. She started weeping. I comforted her by hugging and saying things like, "Norah, you can be thankful. Your mom and dad love you. We would never sell you." She rallied a little at my affirmations, but what she said in response to my comments just broke my heart. "Yes. But, I want to be thankful for all the kids in this world." Up until that moment, she had been under the false impression that every home was like our home and that every mom and dad was like her mom and dad. I could see her mind and

Do you see the grays? I turn thirty today. I spoke to my brother on the phone just yesterday, but he wouldn't wish me a Happy Birthday. He told me, half-teasing, that he and the rest of my family have agreed to do me a favor and "forget" to acknowledge my birthday this year and every year from now on, since they assume that my birthday will be a sore subject to me this year... and every year from now on. When I told him I didn't mind turning thirty, he scoffed at me, a little. He must have thought I was just saying so because I had to, to save face. He seemed to try and change the subject. I thought that was sweet of him and a little out of character, since he usually doesn't avoid anything that might make me uncomfortable. But, in truth and like I tried to tell him, I don't mind growing older. Not in the sense that he probably thinks I do, in the "My boobs are sagging, my hair is turning gray and I need some miracle face cream" kind of way.

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