Something wonky this way comes.
That's the subtitle of one of our favorite books. That's also the title of this week. All is well, more or less. Wonky, but well.
Max has perked up, though he still wants to be held so often I haven't had time to snap a fresh picture of his toothy grin.
Miss Elle could aptly be re-nicknamed Missile, given her tendency to launch herself rocket-like into a pile of destruction.
I've had to put poor Max down in a puddle of tears at least 4 times today in order to pick poor Elle up from her own puddle. Skinned shins, skinned elbows, skinned knees, and a banged up ear all in the space of a couple of hours and all during what I thought was a low-key morning. On the upside, her toe will heal. On the down side, the doctor assures us we should have brought her in sooner. Bummer. That is a bad parenting moment, being accused of neglect by the doctor. But we'd already been there once that day, and it didn't look that bad to two farm kids with an impressive retinue of scars between us.
Maya is holding us all together. She's practicing for a piano recital, and her ever-improving song has as humming along. Max was feeling well enough to accompany me and Maya to her school's literacy night to swap books, play games, and pal around with the Bel Air staff. It's great to see Maya hug half the teachers in that school. It is so big, compared to Veblen, but she is making her connections just as we did.
That's the news. Now, back to ignoring mount laundry and meeting deadlines.