Huckleberry Finn

Children, meet your father, Huckleberry Finn.

























He cut the pole from a tree and dug the worms.


















So, I guess that make me, Mark Twain...?


















Hold on, let me thread this worm... don't pull yet.


























Wait for it... Wait for it...

























Wait for it... NOW!


















It a lunker.


















That was so easy I can do it too, Daddy... you just hold the pole.

























Let's give it a good YANK.

























I knew we could snag one!


















Guess the rest of the fish are safe for now.

:)

Patching

I found one of Janie's babies faithfully patching away. Do you think this counts for double time?

Okay, I had to put a silly picture up so I wouldn't feel so glum. Lucy's cataract eye is lagging behind. {Sigh} It's not A LOT, just an octave. It's actually called an octave. That is, Lucy could decipher a certain interval of finer detail with the strong eye. In this case, an octave. Maybe it's just a fluke. Then again, maybe it will lag more next time... or less.

In any case, it's on to patching for six hours a day on into November. {Sigh} I shouldn't feel sad. She's happy and healthy and spirited. Just wasn't really what I expected. Maybe it will be fodder for something extraordinary.

Eye Exam

Tomorrow: Children's Hospital. Some of our country's best doctors continue to monitor and document Lucy's vision development. We thank the Lord for His provision. Please pray for favorable results on the vision test.

Quarantine Lifted

9:26 am the phone rings. Janie answers. Daddy's in the shower but... "I'll go get Daddy." She marches in, "It's me!" pops our phone through the curtain. Of course, it's an official call when you take it buck-naked in the shower (bless his heart). Over the din of water Daddy clearly hears, "Test came back NEGATIVE." {Sigh}

YAY! Thank-you, Jesus.

And, thank-you all for your prayers.

Quarantine

"I'll give you a treat if you poop, but you have to do it in the little DISH." Yeah. The DISH. The lab gave us an upside down "top-hat" to fetch stool samples from the children. Stool samples, that's right. Guess who got to do the fetching. Did I mention Craig is sporting a strain of African Ghiardia? Oh, and one of the wee ones displayed an awesome spread of diarrhea, fully clothed, even shoes. The clean-up involved a plugged bathtub, lots of bleach, gagging, and my saintly mother. Let's just say I love bleach. And my momma.

They diagnose ghiardia with a stool sample - AKA, no stool sample, no medicine. Apparently the human body will sustain the entire life cycle of the amoeba. Indefinitely. Sooooo, hence the stool samples.

Of course the chillin's wanted to WATCH. Latex gloves, funny scoops, collection cups, I mean who wouldn't?! And Mom's on RED ALERT, the kids GIDDY. Giddy-up.

Then again, at least we can get meds. When the little African babies get this they die. Perish the thought.

It's a little too quiet and ...

...the living room transforms into castles of laundry and a wicker turret. Jack and Lulie, wedged in a crunching basket stare intently at something: the strainer-ball, the one for brewing Christmas punch. Lulie waits. No one moves. The script obviously doesn't include Momma. Jack chinks open the tea-ball and offers Lulie contraband: Quaker Oatmeal Squares. A dilapidated cereal sleeve is mostly empty on the floor. Janie patrols strictly enforcing The Sharing Rule.

A few days later, Daddy finds more cereal rifled through the laundry. Momma's sweet on him for tossing in a laundry load.

Learning to Read

First it's Jack, "That's an A," his smudgy finger pokes an A in a sea of words. Then it's Jane paging through one book and another, another and another for little brother. Her sing-song voice strings together pictures and plot, "See Jack, he's jumping in the water!"

A tiny miracle.

So I tell her, "Honey, if you can learn to read you can learn to do ANYTHING." Gramma used to always say that and she could do practically anything.

Jane opens her eyes up real big. "You mean like how God can just SAY it and it HAPPENS?!" I can see her picturing God, Let there be LIGHT!

"Oh, no." I grin. "That'd be neat, huh?" Her head bobs up and down bouncing blonde curls and a splashy flower. "No, it's more like you can read ABOUT anything to learn how to do it!" (Except not the speaking and it happens thing.)

Later that week she informs us that my hideous sewing debacle is no big deal, "'Cause, Momma, you know how to read so you'll be able to figure it out."

And she's right!