Little House in the Big Woods

School started this week.

Riley began eighth grade, London started kindergarten and Mosely likes to declare that she is in preschool.

Homeschool is a challenge. I don't get to put my kids on a bus and go have that second cup of coffee or read that magazine that came in the mail yesterday. My house is littered with textbooks, science projects, magic markers and glue sticks.

I am not even trying to imply that everyone should homeschool.

But for us, in this house, the good ultimately outweighs the bad.

London Eli is learning her own phone number and I get to watch her practice making phone calls. Riley sits at the kitchen table stringing together batteries and copper wires and creating some experiment to learn about atoms. And she ends up fascinated by her discoveries and I get to see that look of marvel on her face. She walks into the kitchen to tell me some curious fact about Marco Polo that she had never known until that very minute and I get to be surprised with her. The little ones and I cuddle up to read The Trumpet Swan by E.B. White and they beg for another chapter of this novel. They love hearing about Sam and the cygnets (who knew that's what baby swans are called?) he is befriending. I watch them as they play together and they are reenacting scenes from Bread and Jam For Francis or Streganona and I laugh!

I know that if these five kids were at school from breakfast to nearly dinner, I would miss them. I would miss this. I would miss the fights over the box of Cheerios, sure, but I would also miss the tender moments ...... a crack of thunder scares Bergen and London holds his hand all the way from the playground to the house ...... Mosely claps her hands over her face and teaches Piper Finn how to play peek-a-boo ....... Riley helps London choose a special skirt for the first day of school and even offers to flat iron London's hair ....... Bergen sits on the floor and draws his classic crayon version of "Night on Bald Mountain" .......

I really don't want to miss this. I don't care for coffee anyway and I'll skip the magazine articles. Instead I'll teach the kids how to throw a baseball, dance to "Viva La Vida" one more time and give extra scoops of ice cream on doctor appointment days. I'll discuss The Hobbit with Riley and read E.B. White novels until my throat is dry. I want to know the people that live in my house. And I want them to know me. And for us, this is what that looks like.