No greater joy than to know my children walk in truth
"You go lay down," J told me. "Don't worry about dinner. I'll call mom and we'll do something." He knew I was worried about my job getting done.
On the way out last weekend V (the twin sister) lent me a safety-pin for my shirt; "If he attacks you, you can take that out and stick it in his eye." Won't have to teach her self-defense. J stops: "let's try not to think about things like that, okay?" My little worry-wart.
Twelve year olds: sounds mind-numbing? Give them a chance. Day upon day the request in the car is Weezer, Jimmy Eat World, Outkast, Portishead. "I'm dumped, she's a lesbian" they declare at full volume. I brought the CDs with me in hopes they'd let me listen.
J busts out, "goddam you half Japanese girls!" just to get me. Ball buster.
He's a writer, too. A damn good one. The following is an exerpt from his short story:
�Wghph� Bob�s left hand slipped from the crack. His right hand was slipping from the crevasse; he had to think fast. Bob was climbing on the �Pancakes�, which is a mountain that is 900 feet high... Bob thought to himself...�Why did I ever take this dare?�
I helped him punctuate. Nothing else. He writes better than his English teacher (the teacher I have a little fantasy of meeting one day... the children love him, his website has Fake Plastic Trees playing in the background, he's young, and English, right?). Mr. K is a good teacher.
So J, V: my only hugs.
