My daughter was in rare form this evening.
It all started when I went to the front porch and retrieved the two Amazon boxes that UPS had left under my porch mat earlier in the day (Why does UPS feel the need to put the porch mat over giant boxes? I want to know, because if someone's looking for something to steal, I think it's going to be easier to notice if the porch mat is suddenly vertical instead of horizontal. But I'm weird like that). I opened them up and pulled out the books within. I'm a serious dork and am already beginning to purchase curriculum for next year (oh, and did I mention that M2 is coming home?), so there was a student workbook for First Language Lessons 4 for M1, Story of the World Volume 4 Activity Book for both of them and test booklet for M1, Spelling Workout B for M2, and last but not least, Logic Safari book 1.
I told the kids they were welcome to peruse the materials. M1 was incredibly interested in the history activity book and wanted to check out what sort of sentence diagramming loomed in his eventual future; M2 picked up the spelling book for a minute and then turned her attention to the logic book.
"I like it," came the cheerful verdict a bit later. "I can't wait to do it."
"It's a logic book," I told her.
"Do you even know what logic is?"
After dinner and our nightly read-aloud (we recently started 'The Lightning Thief' by Rick Riordan, and the kids love that I've begun doing voices for the characters. In fact, Oz has been instructed to pay attention to said voices so that when Mama's gone and it's his night to read, he can get it right), Oz went to M2's room to tuck her in. Resting on her floor was her Doodleboard with the name of one of her male classmates written on it in M1's handwriting.
Oz laughed. "Is that your boyfriend?"
"No," M2 replied matter-of-factly. "He's just a friend, and I'm 6. I don't get boyfriends until I'm a teenager."
"True," Oz agreed.
"And I don't know what [name of boy] will be like as a teenager, anyway. Besides, [another male classmate] can be more fun sometimes."
So Oz came out and told me all this. And just as he finished the story, M2 emerged from her room, aforementioned Doodleboard in hand. She presented it to Oz with the announcement, "These are the possibilities. DON'T erase it," and marched back to her room with the air of a queen who had just presented a resident peon with a lifetime endowment.
Oz and I gazed at her Doodleboard in interest. "All I can read," Oz said, "is 'Please let my wish come true.'"
Since I'm better at deciphering 6-year-old spelling in fuzzy gray Doodleboard, I took a closer look. At the top was written, "Possibilities of boyfriends." Below that was a list of no less than four names, then the plea about her wish.
"What do you wish would come true?" Oz asked when he returned the unerased Doodleboard.
"Oh, I don't know what I'll wish when I'm older. But I hope it comes true."
I hope so, too, baby... I hope so, too.