Thanksgiving Feast

I prepared a pretty delicious meal for four, even though two of our guests decided they'd rather dine on popcorn and hot chocolate in the living room. At our request, they came in the kitchen to briefly survey the meal, but Max said it looked worse than he thought it would, and Otto said he might be interested later, but not now, and both turned around and left us. On these traditionally celebratory days, I have vague notions of the four of us sitting down together for a memorable meal, but I think the fact that they knew they had the freedom to choose to be somewhere else is actually something to be celebrated. We didn't feel any need to pressure them into staying, and that felt good. Martin and I had a very nice dinner, just the two of us, listening to our kids having fun in the other room while we relaxed, and I think that's a lot to be thankful for.

Here's a shot of our tiny kitchen table, optimistically set for four.



My plate, fully loaded. The cornish hens were really delicious, they were still juicy and the butter/lemon zest/sage/salt rub was so very tasty. We would definitely make that again. It roasted so quickly and so perfectly that it would make a great weeknight dinner.



And the pie, before cutting...


And loaded up with whipped cream.

Thanksgiving and Zella's Bran Rolls

I love Thanksgiving, probably because it is a holiday whose focus is a meal (and of course, on being thankful for each other and our lives). I like that all the fuss is on Wednesday and Thursday (and that the fuss is about pies and rolls and dressing and roasting some sort of bird), and then we have three whole days to just hang out together and have fun.

I've always been so interested in what people eat for Thanksgiving dinner. When I went off to college my freshman year, I was quite shocked to hear so many very different menus from the one I was used to (my family has always stuck pretty closely to the exact same meal, and I suppose I assumed it was a standard meal for everyone in America—yeah, I was a bit naive). I made it a personal mission to collect all my friend's Thanksgiving menus, and I often fancied I would like to make a cookbook/story book which told the story of each family and then presented their menu (along with some beautiful food photos, which I still don't know how to take).

We've hosted the holiday a few times since I've been a full fledged grown up, and we have done a bit of experimentation on some classic ingredients. One year, we made a beet, red onion and cranberry relish (it was definitely interesting but probably not something I'd make again), and my mother was so taken aback that she actually put down her fork in the middle of dinner and said, "I hate this cranberry salad." That is completely out of character for her, she is far too polite to voice this sort of opinion, so it was actually really funny. If I recall, that was also the year we made butternut squash with corn and collard greens, which was more of a sauté, and that also did not go over very well. But it was also the year of the carmelized onion and balsamic vinegar gravy, and that was so loved by all that it has become a regular in this house. So, here's to a bit of experimentation, and to the realization that it's best to experiment on one or two dishes each year.

One thing that is always on the menu is Zella's Bran Rolls. Named after my grandma, who got the recipe for these when she took cooking lessons when my Aunt Linda was a baby (Aunt Linda was the first of six children, and my dad was the fifth), these rolls have been in our family for a very long time. They are my brother's favorite, and they make wonderful little sandwich rolls in the days following the big meal.

This year, our menu is almost the classic that I grew up with. Since it's only the four of us, we're not going to do a turkey—we'll go with something much smaller and cuter, and hopefully the boys will like it because of that. We also decided to skip the dressing/stuffing, since we can't stuff it into a giant turkey, and there's already so much bread with the rolls. So, in case you're also interested in what people eat for Thanksgiving, here's our menu:

Roast Cornish Hens with Sage Butter
Carmelized Onion and Balsamic Gravy
Cranberry and Orange Relish
Mashed Rutabaga and Potatoes
Puree of Butternut Squash
Zella's Bran Rolls
Pumpkin Pie

We'll also have a cheese tray and a veggie tray (celery, carrots, olives), but those will probably be out all long before dinner is ready.

If you want to try some of those famous rolls, here's the recipe. Note: when I took them out of the oven, Max came in and said, "those look so good they give me tears and make my teeth hurt." Don't be surprised if you have a similar reaction.

Zella's Bran Rolls

1 cup vegetable oil
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 cup shredded bran cereal
1 cup boiling water
2 packages dry yeast
1 cup lukewarm water
2 eggs, beaten
6-7 cups unbleached flour

Pour oil, sugar, salt and bran into a large mixing bowl. Pour in the boiling water. Mix and let cool.

Dissolve the yeast in the lukewam water. Stir.

When the bran mixture is lukewarm, add the yeast and the eggs.

Add 3 cups of flour and beat. Add the remaining flour and mix in. If dough is too soft, add a little more flour. This should be a soft dough.

Knead on a floured board or countertop until smooth. Put in an oiled bowl and cover with a damp tea towel. Refrigerate overnight or until ready to use. This is a light dough and rises rapidly. It should double in bulk in less than 2 hours. It can be shaped anytime after that. It will keep in the refrigerator for a week.

You can make this in round buns or shape into loaves, but the way my grandma and all my family did it was this: divide the dough into 4 sections. Roll each into a 15" to 18" round about 1/2" thick. Cut each round into 16 pie shaped wedges and roll them from the widest to the pointed end to make a crescent or butterhorn shape.





Let the rolls rise until doubled in bulk.

Bake them at 400 for 8-12 minutes. Check them at 5 minutes to see how they are browning. It's best to do them one tray at a time, since they go from looking like dough to being done in a matter of a minute or so. You want them to be golden brown on top, but you don't want them to overbake, or they will be dry and hard instead of the fluffy soft scrumptious pillows they are supposed to be. Also, they will "bake" a little more when they come out. In my oven, they are usually perfect at about 10 minutes.

These rolls are best reheated (carefully, hee hee) before serving.

Makes 64 rolls.

Making Connections

Otto was watching "Max and Ruby" and came to ask me if usually people say "I'd better walk to it." I told him the phrase was usually "hop to it" when they mean they'd better do something very quickly, and he said, "Oh, I just thought maybe they said that because they were rabbits and that people usually said they'd better walk to it."

Also, overhead today:
Max: Remember, I am keeping my promises now.
Otto: I know. I will never ever tease you again.

Ah, already making promises I just don't think they can keep. But I guess there's always hope.

Kimya Dawson is Awesome

We just returned from a Kimya Dawson kids' concert at the Old Town School of Folk Music. It was totally and completely wonderful.

When she came onstage, she said that she was really nervous for tonight's show, "because kids are so much cooler than adults." You could tell she really meant those words too, as she really honored and respected all the kids (and adults) in the audience. She did not take any single person for granted, and although she may have been nervous, she was able to relax enough to celebrate her audience as well as the music itself. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

Max and Otto were not terribly excited to be there. We were there, admittedly, more for ourselves, as we know Kimya Dawson from her music for Juno. We were early enough to grab a table at the back of the house (our ideal seating, as it allows us to set up legos or action figures for showtime play, as well as spread out with drawing pads and snacks). Max and Otto were fighting, and Max called Otto some names, and Otto leapt across a table to punch Max (we got quite a few disparaging looks from the people in front of us). When I tried to stop the fight, Otto screamed at Max, and to be honest, I started to panic that we were going to have to leave before the show even started (to be clear: this all happened long before showtime, as we were early, as previously stated, and had apparently decided to fill the 20 minutes before showtime with a little preshow bickering). I am sure my panicked feeling did not help the rising disagreements between Max and Otto, and although I tried to think positive thoughts, to lure the good stuff our way, I was feeling very discouraged. I knew that if they were not happy during the show, we'd leave. I tried to distract them with their sketch books and Legos, which temporarily occupied them. And I was kicking myself that I hadn't gotten the kids' CD so that they would at least know the music. I tried to be positive, but frankly, I feared the worst.



But as soon as Kimya came out, they stopped short of what they were doing and became quiet, and once she started singing, both boys perked up and seemed to be hanging on her every word (okay, admittedly, they were words like poop and fart and stinky and butt—potty humor was never so fun to hear). Otto leaned forward and laid his head on the seats in front of us, watching her from a sideways position, but laughing and sitting up to clap at the end of each song. And Max, although he continued to draw during most of the show, was definitely listening and would often laugh at the lyrics. He clapped, but he didn't clap at every song (he later told me that he thought people just clapped at the end of every song whether they liked them or not, but he didn't think they all deserved clapping).

After a couple of introductory songs, she asked the audience if they knew the alphabet song, and then she waited while a couple hundred people shouted back their ABCs, which was more like a very unorganized round. At the end, everyone had basically finished, but Kimya was still sitting there with a look of intense concentration, and she said, "someone's not done yet," and it was true—there was one boy, about 4 or so, who was proudly singing the last words, "Next time won't you sing with me" so slowly, enunciating and projecting like a professional. And once he was done, she gave us all applause. I was somewhat floored by this behavior, even though, of course, it was absolutely the most wonderful way to behave that I could imagine. She seemed so relaxed about it, not at all worried that her show was held up by a 5 minute version of the alphabet song, not trying to control how the show was going, but going with it completely. I felt like I was witnessing someone really living in the moment in a very public way.

A bit later in the concert, a little girl (maybe 8 or so) was singing along with a song, and Kimya stopped mid-song and asked the girl if she knew all the words to this song (no small feat for a Kimya Dawson song, as any fan would realize, and this was one of the less "kid friendly" songs, per se), and when the girl said, yes, Kimya asked her if she wanted to get up on stage and sing it with her. The girl did. They started with the verse where they had left off (about halfway through the song), and the girl absolutely did know all the words, but more than that, the whole feeling of that moment was magical. The lyrics were oddly fitting for the exchange of spirit that we witnessed. Here's a bit:

When I was a kid we would play "Annie" at recess
I was always Sandy because I was the smallest
From all that crawling on the blacktop there were holes in all my jeans
And in the toes of my boat shoes
But I never complained
Because I didn't think that I could sing
See I never perfected that nasaly thing
The way all the kids sang in the school play
Now I know it's better if we all don't all sound the same
So if you hear me and I'm screaming
About auditions for "Annie"
I hope you will try out with me
There are parts for everybody
And you don't need to be the dog
Unless you like being the doggy

It also has this little gem at the end of the song:
If you're living, you are learning
Write and write and keep on writing
Just make sure your life's exciting

I love that. I really really love it.

At another point in the show, she invited 10 kids to come up on stage and play some of her instruments (lots of noisemakers, tambourines, maracas) and when about 35 came up, she just went with it, and since everyone was having so much fun, she did three songs with that big band. She asked them to leave the stage while she sang a few less boisterous songs, and then, at the end of the concert, she invited them all to come back up for a final number. This time there were at least 50 people up there, some preteens in the back (the Moldy Peaches/Juno fans, I'm guessing).

We were not supposed to take photographs or video by special request of the artist (this was clearly announced at the beginning of the show), but it was just really so cool, and I just had to capture that moment to remember it. So I did take a photo (and carefully did not use the flash). It's a bit blurry, but perhaps you can see a bit of the magic that she made for us all.



At the end, Kimya said, "That was fun. You guys weren't so scary after all."

On the way out of the Old Town School, we noted the particular contents of their vending machine. They sort of looked like wafers, but the flavors were not what I expected: Electronic, Acoustic or Classical. We had to stop and admire them. Hey, I'm just making sure my life is exciting.

Ash's Magic Shop

We imagined Ash's Magic Shop would be quaint little shop, full of curiosities, perhaps a bit cluttered, but with interesting things at every turn. We guessed the owner would be a jovial guy who would show us a few magic tricks and help us find the perfect simple tricks for the boys to perform. Unfortunately, on the day we visited, Mr. Ash was not in, and the woman who helped us (I presume it was his wife) was not terribly friendly. Her first comments were to be absolutely shocked the boys had no coats. This is a fairly common response to us in the winter months, so that certainly wasn't the cause for any dismay. But she did shake her head disapprovingly.

I told her we had seen an article in the paper, that we wanted to check out some magic, and that the boys were interested in top hats. She pulled a stash of cheap plastic hats down and called Max over to her so she could smash it down on his head. When he pulled back and looked at her suspiciously, she seemed to have made her decision about him and turned her sights to Otto, who she felt was much more compliant. Otto didn't much care for that either, and he took off the hat and said it was too big. Max said he didn't even like the hats. "Well, that's all we've got," she said abruptly. This whole scenario bothered me, and it happened so fast that I felt that I hadn't been the support the kids needed to help face a grumpy sales clerk. I am sometimes so shocked by people's behavior with kids, that they think they can just touch them or say whatever they want in whatever tone they want to them. I was wondering if she would have tried to shove a hat on an adult who was interested in trying one on.

We probably should have just walked out when that happened, but I suppose I was determined to get some sort of satisfaction from the experience, and the boys were truly interested in finding some simple tricks. So instead we stuck around and looked at the wall full of tricks, wondering which ones we might be able to do. She offered no assistance whatsoever.

The store is small and crammed with stuff, but it wasn't really quaint in any way. I wanted to love it, I wanted to look at the disorganized shelves and dusty products and feel that this 30 year old shop offered so much history and personality. But I just wasn't feeling that. Max complained it was stinky. I couldn't really deny that. I suppose our reactions could have been the result of the entire experience. A friendly personality would have made all the difference.

A middle-aged magician walked in to buy some more supplies, and the shopkeeper was a bit more gracious with him, although it seemed that her general manner was not terribly friendly. I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, to assume she was just having a bad day. We asked her if she could show us any of the tricks, and she said that they don't do shows. This was different than what we had been led to believe from the article in the Chicago Tribune from this summer. I didn't expect a show, but I thought a demonstration was not out of the question.The article made it sound Mr. Ash's shop was a little Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium, but in our experience, it bears no resemblance.

The shopping magician offered to perform some tricks for us if the shopkeeper would let him use the supplies. His tone of voice implied he knew she wouldn't go for it. I suppose he is a regular customer. But in the end, she handed over a couple of things, and he did a trick on us where he "colored" in a book by tapping on the cover, and another where he cut a rope in two and restored it. Once the magic came out, the kids were suddenly very interested. And they wanted to know how to do them all. She said, "Well, we don't tell you how to do the tricks, you have to buy them for that." But I noticed a slight change in her tone, somewhat more friendly than it was before.

It was then I understood that she was just worried that we would come in, watch a few tricks and then leave, like we were just looking for some cheap entertainment for a cold afternoon. When it was more apparent that we would actually buy some tricks if we found something cool, she warmed up a bit. I was still a bit reluctant, and in my heart I did not want to support a store with an attitude like that, but on the other hand, I saw two boys who were absolutely lighting up at the idea of turning 4 nickels into 4 dimes. We bought four different simple tricks, and after the money was handed over, she actually showed us how to do each one of them. It was sort of comical, actually, how quickly her attitude shifted and how much more friendly she became.

When we got home, we opened up our tricks and realized that two of them weren't working right (one was just really cheap and was falling apart, and one was different than I expected it would be. I called the shop, and I got a jovial sounding man who was immediately ready to help out. He offered to replace anything and said, "Come on back! I'll do some tricks for you!" I hesitated, and then I said, "Um, is this Mr. Ash?" And he said, "It is I, the Famous Mr. Ash!" in a thick Armenian accent and with a big laugh. I can imagine we would have had a completely different experience had we visited when he was in the store.

The kids practiced their tricks and got ready to do them for Martin (and for our unsuspecting neighbor, who was just stopping by to borrow pink shirts for his son to wear to school the next day—apparently we are the house they thought to call when you need pink boys' t-shirts). Watching a 7 and a 4 year old do magic is pretty darn entertaining. My favorite part was when Otto turned the 4 nickels into 4 dimes and then looked quizzically at the pile and said, "How did it do that?"

On the other hand, if Otto does understand the trick, he is really excited to do it for you, and then, almost before the trick is over, he is rushing to explain to you how it is done. I don't think Mrs. Ash would approve.

August

As the days grow colder and darker, it is kind of nice to look back and remember a bit of summer. It was such a lovely one.



Movie: August 2008

Um, Craig, apologies for the song choice. I loved your recommendation (and I will absolutely be making a movie with that song), but I just couldn't shake this song as the perfect song for this video...

Exquisite City

We went to see a really cool art exhibit at the Viaduct Theatre called The Exquisite City. 72 artists created their own cardboard version of a "block" of Chicago. There were big apartment buildings where you would just peek in a "window," there were single family houses and two flats and bars and churches and penguin habitats, and one display that showed the 13 different residences that one woman has had while living in Chicago, with a dashed line showing her path.

The pieces were all so different in style and concept.

Big apartment building.



Lots of apartment buildings.



Inside some of the windows of one of those big apartment buildings:



Day of the Dead celebration.



This one features catwoman behind the bar, which both boys thought was pretty cool.



Penguin habitat.



13 residences, one of which seems to have been a dome.



I really liked this one, which was all silhouettes in white boxes.


A typical Chicago block, with a good mix of building types.



Cold beer.



The windows on this one were really cool.



And when we emerged from the dark theatre into the dark night...snow. Chicago's first of the season.



Soup in a Pumpkin, The Recipe

The soup from my last post has received such enthusiasm, I thought I'd post the actual recipe, although it's pretty intuitive. I replaced about half of the cream in the recipe with chicken stock, with good results. It's still very rich.

The recipe is from The Classic Zucchini Cookbook, which we bought a couple of years ago to help us use up all the zucchini and squash we are overrun with in mid summer. But I have used it even more for all the great squash and pumpkin recipes (which we also seem to amass). I think this would be really good using sweet dumpling squash, and giving each person their own little "bowl." We made it with a 2 1/2 pound pumpkin, I just cut everything in half, and it served the two of us with lots of leftover pumpkin for later pumpkin bread making.

Soup in a Pumpkin

1 well-shaped 5 pound pie pumpkin
1 cup grated Gruyere or mozzarella cheese
1 cup chopped baked ham
2 cups toasted croutons
2 cups light cream, or more as needed
pinch nutmeg
salt and freshly ground pepper

1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Remove the top from the pumpkin and reserve. Scoop out the seeds and fibers.

2. Fill the pumpkin with layers of cheese, ham and croutons.

3. In a small mixing bowl, combine the cream, nutmeg and salt and pepper to taste. Pour into the pumpkin, adding more cream if necessary to fill the shell. Cover with aluminum foil and place the pumpkin on a large baking pan.

4. Bake for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, stirring several times, until the pumpkin is tender inside.

5. Remove the aluminum foil. Place the pumpkin on a large serving dish. Cover with the reserved pumpkin top. Serve the soup directly from the pumpkin.

Serves 4

Note: At least for me, the pumpkin did not naturally fall into the soup, as I had thought it would. Each time I stirred it, I would scrape a little bit at the walls, and there was always some that easily fell in. I can definitely see from the before and after pictures (see the previous post) that lots of pumpkin ended up in the soup. Also, it did bubble over (I had added more stock to fill it up to the very top). If I did it again, I would not make it quite as full, maybe topping it off with more liquid, if needed, as it got closer to the end. Also, I used half-and-half instead of light cream and mixed it with chicken stock, as previously stated.

It Looks Like All We Did Was Eat

I have looked over all my pictures from the weekend, and here's the thing: they are almost exclusively of food. I guess that's appropriate for this blog, where we are, as stated, almost always hungry. But we did do more than eat, truly we did. Hmmm...I'm trying to remember what.

We kicked off the weekend with Friday night's soup in a pumpkin. All you do is clean out the seeds and strings from the pumpkin, then fill it with layers of swiss cheese and ham and crutons, then fill up the cavity with a mixture of chicken stock and milk and cream, then bake it for a couple of hours, stirring occasionally. The pumpkin eventually gets soft and starts to combine with the soup. At the end, you serve it right out of the pumpkin. Yum.

Before baking.



After baking.



I don't know if this is typical, but the pumpkin behaved more like a spaghetti squash. There were strings of it that we mixed into the soup, and it was almost like pumpkin pasta with cream sauce. It was rich, warm, and delicious.

On Saturday, we went to the first in this season's CSO Kids Symphony series, which focused on Latin American Rhythms. Just as the conductor was starting off the musicians, Otto called out, "Stupid!" which was sort of funny, but it was also a bit embarrassing. Luckily, the hall is packed with families who are empathetic, and Otto's little voice was not loud enough to carry to the stage (at least I hope not). Max seemed content to be there, but he did break out his journal and colored pencils and drew pictures for most of it. Sometimes a piece of music would capture his interest enough that he would stop and look and listen, but mostly he listened and drew pictures. Otto seemed interested once it got started, but he did get bored in the middle, and so we played a game where I would find an instrument and then ask him to find it. He liked that game and kept asking to play it some more.

We have subscribed to the next two in the series, and I do think they enjoy much of it, but both do get restless, even in the short show. It would be a bit awkward to leave once you are seated, and of course, I don't want to disrupt the people around us. Next time I want to be prepared to get up and out quietly and easily (and not have to gather coats, bags, colored pencils, etc). I saw many families do just that. But I am also inclined to stick it out with some slight protests (and they were very slight, with comments like "when will this be over?"), especially because I know the whole show is relatively short and each piece is different, and you never know what will appeal to them. That's what we did this time, we stuck it out with the coloring and the games, and that how it went at all three shows last year too. I think we did leave one early when Max was done (if I recall, Otto was listening, and Max was done). But I continue to be unsure of how much to encourage them to stay if they say they want to go, to encourage them to go at all if they'd rather stay home, as I want to give them opportunities or exposures to lots of different things, but I also want to honor their wishes. It's something we come across on a daily basis (they would choose to be home over almost anything, and although I give us LOTS of home time, sometimes I do like to be out and about with other unschoolers, or just out there with other people).

Anyway, after the concert, we took the bus north on Michigan Avenue and went to the Lego store, where they each built a couple of minifigures. It was amazing how long they pored over the options (it was at least 30 minutes, maybe more, and luckily, most people were walking right by the minifigures and looking at the sets). In the end, building minifigures is a pretty cheap option at the Lego store, and they got to make themselves a couple of really funny people. If you don't have a Lego store near you, you can always make your own custom Lego, albeit only a virtual one, here.

We ate lunch in the food court, where Max went straight for the shrimp tempura and edamame. Otto had rice with teriyaki sauce, which he quite loves. They topped it off with milkshakes from Potbelly. Ah, foodcourts. There's something for everyone. Especially at this particular one.




And we walked around in the very cold evening to take the bus and train home. The boys were completely entertained on the walk by creating some game with their minifigures, and in fact, when we tried to usher them out of Bloomingdales, they insisted they needed to do something back over there by those dishes (apparently the game involved hiding in cups and coffee makers).

We spent all of Sunday inside. It was cold out and felt like a good day to stay in and fill the house with warmth from the oven. Oh, and Martin finally turned on the heat. Yay! We watched lots of animated Batman movies, we built a bit of Legos, and later, we finished the "Hero Levels" of the Wii Lego Batman with the aid of the walkthrough. Now we can move onto the "Villians," which are what they are excited about, anyway.

At one point in the afternoon, I realized Otto was watching a cooking show (turns out it was Sara Moulton), and I said, "Whatcha watching?" and he said, "She's making a beautiful salad. Do you want to see?" and so we "rewound" (goodness, I love the DVR!) and watched her make a fried chicken and argula salad with luscious red tomatoes on one side and fresh corn off the cob on the other. She managed to make me hungry for salad and for summer in the same moment.

But instead of dwelling on the summer that seems to now be really and truly behind us, we made our own salad, complete with the last bits of summer from our garden (Martin left the warmth of the house to harvest everything left in the garden, to save it from the frost). We had a spinach salad with watermelon radishes, avocadoes, and the last of our little sungold tomatoes.


Martin also made fried green tomatoes to accompany the meal. (Man, he was busy on Sunday, wasn't he?) He made them a couple of weeks ago, and I think he's our official green tomato chef.



The boys weren't interested in anything we were having, so we made them hot dogs. Even that got pushed aside, though, so they could draw.


We finished off the evening with some pumpkin bread, just out of the oven. I made it with the leftover pumpkin from the soup that started off the weekend, so I guess that wrapped it up nicely.

Poem for a Monday Morning

On this particular Monday morning, I am even more grateful than I usually am that my two sweet boys are sleeping here beside me as I check in on my friends' blogs and the unschooling groups lists I am on. Someone posted this poem, and although it makes me very sad to read it, I think it is important to think about "teaching" in this way. My mother is a teacher, and she is a teacher like the second teacher, but I know that there are lots of teachers like the first teacher, lots of schools and systems and parents who are like the first teacher, and for that, I am very sad.

The Little Boy

Once a little boy went to school.
He was quite a little boy
And it was quite a big school.
But when the little boy
Found that he could go to his room
By walking right in from the door outside
He was happy;
And the school did not seem
Quite so big anymore.

One morning
When the little boy had been in school awhile,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make a picture."
"Good!" thought the little boy.
He liked to make all kinds;
Lions and tigers,
Chickens and cows,
Trains and boats;
And he took out his box of crayons
And began to draw.

But the teacher said, "Wait!"
"It is not time to begin!"
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
"Now," said the teacher,
"We are going to make flowers."
"Good!" thought the little boy,
He liked to make beautiful ones
With his pink and orange and blue crayons.
But the teacher said "Wait!"
"And I will show you how."
And it was red, with a green stem.
"There," said the teacher,
"Now you may begin."

The little boy looked at his teacher's flower
Then he looked at his own flower.
He liked his flower better than the teacher's
But he did not say this.
He just turned his paper over,
And made a flower like the teacher's.
It was red, with a green stem.

On another day
When the little boy had opened
The door from the outside all by himself,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make something with clay."
"Good!" thought the little boy;
He liked clay.
He could make all kinds of things with clay:
Snakes and snowmen,
Elephants and mice,
Cars and trucks
And he began to pull and pinch
His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, "Wait!"
"It is not time to begin!"
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
"Now," said the teacher,
"We are going to make a dish."
"Good!" thought the little boy,
He liked to make dishes.
And he began to make some
That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said "Wait!"
"And I will show you how."
And she showed everyone how to make
One deep dish.
"There," said the teacher,
"Now you may begin."

The little boy looked at the teacher's dish;
Then he looked at his own.
He liked his better than the teacher's
But he did not say this.
He just rolled his clay into a big ball again
And made a dish like the teacher's.
It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon
The little boy learned to wait,
And to watch
And to make things just like the teacher.
And pretty soon
He didn't make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened
That the little boy and his family
Moved to another house,
In another city,
And the little boy
Had to go to another school.
This school was even bigger
Than the other one.
And there was no door from the outside
Into his room.
He had to go up some big steps
And walk down a long hall
To get to his room.
And the very first day
He was there,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make a picture."
"Good!" thought the little boy.
And he waited for the teacher
To tell what to do.
But the teacher didn't say anything.
She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy
She asked, "Don't you want to make a picture?"
"Yes," said the lttle boy.
"What are we going to make?"
"I don't know until you make it," said the teacher.
"How shall I make it?" asked the little boy.
"Why, anyway you like," said the teacher.
"And any color?" asked the little boy.
"Any color," said the teacher.
"If everyone made the same picture,
And used the same colors,
How would I know who made what,
And which was which?"
"I don't know," said the little boy.
And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

—Helen Buckley

November Days

Chicago tends to jump right from winter to summer and back again, so those transitional seasons are often lost on us. The standard joke is that there are only two seasons here: winter and road construction. This last year has been pretty mild, and I can't really complain about it, but with the cold weather we had a couple of weeks ago, I did start to think that winter might already be upon us.

And then came a string of days so beautiful and so seize-worthy that we did just that. With highs in the 70s and abundant sunshine, it was ideal fall weather. The fall colors are everywhere, the leaves are in all shades of colors, many already falling from the trees and making nice big piles to run through. My friend Nancy said, "to stay inside in this weather would be criminal," and although I considered handing us over to the authorities on one or two days, when we spent entire mornings and early afternoons in the apartment, we did manage to make it out on each of those gorgeous days.

On Sunday, we went to the Botanic Garden. We oohed and ahhed at all the beautiful colors.



On Monday, we went to the Lincoln Park Zoo. From the photos we took, it looks like we spent more time with the sculptures than with the actual animals, but that's also because I never feel like I can do a good job of capturing the animals in photographs. We did see lots of rabbits running around loose, and I thought it was funny how much excitement those garnered from the boys. It seems like spotting a "wild" rabbit was much more interesting than staring at a captive lion or zebra.





On Tuesday, we (or I) voted, we walked to Starbucks to collect my "free coffee for voting," and then we spent the entire afternoon at the park. It was so warm, and we set up shop in the little "cafe" under the slide that the boys love to "run." We had lots of real food in the diaper bag, so they made a display of snack bars, pretzels, milk, a cheese sandwich, and then they "sold" me some lunch (although Otto told me everything was free today because I voted, hee hee).

They drew pictures, they played Legos, and in the end, we were there for 3 hours. At one point, I laid down on the warm ground (my back was hurting and this seemed like a good idea), and Max laid down on top of me. Max is not generally a cuddly kind of kid, so this was really sweet for me. I kept trying to capture that moment in photo, but this is the best I got.



We left that park and on our way home, we saw our friend Nicholas at another park, so of course we had to stop and play with him for a couple more hours. I was still feeling so nervous for the outcome of the election that I desperately needed distraction, as did Magda, Nicholas' mom, but we finally parted ways to go home and watch the coverage. And of course, to celebrate the election of Barack Obama as the next president of the United States. (I just have to type that as many times as I can, hee hee.)

On Wednesday, we tried to join our local homeschool group at yet another park. But as soon as we arrived, Max and Otto got into some sort of argument, and Otto just could not recover from it. He had been asking to go to Fellger Park on Tuesday (when we were at local parks instead), and although he had seemed okay with this park when we first got out of the car, it seemed like the little fight with Max gave him a moment to rethink things and look around and realize we were again at some other park that did not meet his approval. He just fell apart and cried and insisted we leave. He didn't want a snack, he even rejected nursing. It was clear it was just not a good day to be there, so we left after about 15 minutes.

As soon as we left the park, Otto was so much happier. He and Max started talking about all sorts of things, and then Otto suddenly volunteered, "it would have been okay if it was just one or two of our friends there, but that was too many friends." I am constantly amazed at how my kids can vocalize their feelings. I completely understand Otto's discomfort, as I am also more inclined to hang out with friends individually or in very small groups, but I'm still amazed to hear this voiced by my four year old. I also realize that he feels a need to have some sort of control over his life, and you never know what thing he will focus on. Today it was the decision to leave the park. In retrospect, we should have just left right away, but I thought he might warm up to it if we stayed a bit. Luckily, he easily recovered when we were off on our own.

We went to Lincoln Square, the neighborhood we visit when all else fails (and other times too). As soon as we got out of the car, we realized someone had put soap into the fountain, which made big fluffy mounds of foam. Of course the kids wanted to touch the bubbles, and I didn't see a good reason to say no, so they climbed in and scooped out some soap and played for quite a while.

After we had played for a while, another family walked by, and the kids said, "Oh look! Bubbles!" and started to move toward the fountain. But the mom steered them away, saying "You can't go in there, that's why they've got a fence around it." She also gave me a look of disapproval. I felt very self-conscious at that point, and there was indeed a small fence (it's about 1 foot high) that they had climbed over to get inside, but I also wanted to say to her something like, "Yeah, that's true, but how can you resist a fountain filled with bubbles?" I wanted to say it in a way that wasn't confrontational, but that might explain how we would decide to "break a rule" in order to follow our own bliss and perhaps put the idea in her head that it might be okay for them to do that too. But of course, in the moment, I just froze up and didn't say anything at all.




We picked up my new glasses, we went to Cafe Selmarie, we played in the square, and the boys climbed the light post, as usual.



And today, it's looking like rain. I'm so glad we were out and about and seizing those days while they were here. Now we're making popcorn and cuddling up under blankets and watching movies and playing Lego Batman. That feels like fall too.

Vote by Cookie

We stopped in at Cafe Selmarie this afternoon and saw this lovely display of sugar cookies.


Max and Otto both picked out donkey cookies, and as we were eating them, a little girl wandered up to the counter and picked out an elephant. Max turned to me and said, "it doesn't matter if she picks an elephant, because Barack Obama already won." This garnered a chuckle from another patron. Otto told me he doesn't think she knows the elephant is for John McCain, he thinks that she probably just likes elephants. (I wonder if his reasoning was something like: how could someone who is so obviously intelligent and kind and, well, let's just say adorable, possibly be a Republican? The only explanation is that she just doesn't understand what she is doing. Hee hee.) Whatever his inner dialogue was, I am pretty sure he was right about her choice.

Yes We Did, Yes We Can

What a night. What a bright new day!

It must have been an amazing thing to be gathered with 250,000 other excited supporters in Grant Park last night, to witness first hand this historic and, well, hopeful night. But as tempting as it was, it was absolutely not in the best interest of our family to be there. Max watched the returns with us from the comfort of our living room (building Legos and such in the background, but very much following the results). We were a media frenzy in the house, with the radio and NPR coverage, the computer and CNN's map, and flipping around from PBS, ABC and the Daily/Colbert coverage on the television. Otto actually slept through almost all of it—he fell asleep at about 7 and woke up just as they were calling the election for Obama. He must have felt the energy spike in the house. We all had a champagne toast to celebrate.

I kept getting tears in my eyes, and Max repeatedly said, "Mom, you keep crying," in a sort of playful accusatory way, and I realized they have no idea why this is such a huge thing, in so many ways, but the most obvious being that for the first time, a black man will be president of the US. I love that they have no idea why this is so significant, and I am inspired to think that this generation of children will not think very much about the color of someone's skin, or any of the other things that make us all so diverse.

But of course, I was also crying tears of relief, joy and well, there's that word again: hope. I guess that really is the best word to sum it all up. Some other words that come to mind: inclusion, trust, and, oh yes, change. Obama set just the right tone in his victory speech—he realizes what a huge challenge is ahead (maybe he doesn't really want this job after all? hee hee). It was his "we all have to do our part, let's get to work" attitude that really struck a chord with me and captured the spirit of what we need to do to heal this country. I am confident that President Elect Barack Obama (wow, that's exciting to type!) is just the person our country needs at this point in time, and I am hopeful, oh so very hopeful.

Kids for Obama

We're down to the last day. I'm feeling really excited and also very nervous for tomorrow. We live two doors down from a polling place, so there will be a lot of action here in the morning. We wanted to make sure our house would be covered in Obama posters, and Max was absolutely game for making us a few to hang up.





When he finished with them, I told him that I really loved them, and I thanked him for doing them. He said, "Why are you thanking me? I wanted to do it."

I love them! Have a look...








And here they all are: