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knitting is the new reading

Most mornings, while the girls wait patiently (and, yes, let’s confess, sometimes not so patiently and rather noisily) for "up time", they entertain themselves with books and conversation.  These wintery mornings have seen the Hayes family waking up a little later than normal, and by the time I am dressed and ready to get the kids up for breakfast, the sun is up and they’re ready to face the day.

However, recently, when I walked into their room, it’s not reading quietly or even bright-eyed, dressed and ready little girls that I saw.  Nope – it was two knitting wonders!  While Katie was thumb casting her needle from one end to the other, Kiera was well into knitting her second build-a-bear scarf.  The messy bed hair and blurry eyes is a poor representative for the deep concentration and wakefulness that was these two!   2010_06_251

I had a good laugh!  You see, I have friends who tease me mercilessly about being THAT homeschool mom – the anti-vaccine, organic foods, child-training, long haired, might-as-well-have-the-cow-in-the-back-yard one.  So, walking into my kids’ room and seeing them perpetuate that homely stereotype all on their own gave me a great chuckle! 

And the irony?  I can’t knit!!!  Well, not anything more than a simple scarf.  And I didn’t teach them to knit either.  :)   Their granny is responsible for that.  Who would’ve thought that it would stick so well that it would be the first thing they did when they woke up?  Certainly not me. 

Now… to find that free-range organic-fed sheep for some hand spun wool…. ;-)

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Heat = haircut

Today is insanely hot.  Quite literally BURNING hot.  I just went outside (2pm) and felt like my skin was on fire within 5 seconds of being outside.  It’s hot.

It’s been hot since this morning, and while I was reading to the kids, with Sam-the-furnace sitting on my lap, my poor boy was dripping sweat.  His nose was completely beaded up and sweat rivulets ran down the back of his neck.  He was one unhappy boy.  We could’ve wrung out half a pool from his mop of hair.  He was not happy at all.  So, I mentioned cutting it.  He seconded it.  Seconded with great enthusiasm.

So, we cut stories short (we’ll finish them tonight when it’s a little cooler) and got to cutting hair instead. 

This is the mop before… lift up those layers and it’s pouring sweat underneath.

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The mop after –  aka the mopping up of the mop.

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Oh sweet boy of the shorter hair. 

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and then…

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yes, my son got hold of the scissors and chopped a huge chunk out of his hair.  Oh dear!  Oh no!  Oh what do we do?!  The solution?  A number 4 all over for you my boy.  Prison here we come. 

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actually, he looks quite sweet :) even if you can still see the line from the chunk he cut!

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ETA: hot doesn’t begin to describe today … at 3:30pm today, my temp gauge in my car (after driving for 15 minutes) read:

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needless to say, we skipped baths this evening and opted for a long swim instead.

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Sam, Sam, the Packers Fan

While in Hermanus, and while granny and grandpa slipped away to Cape Town for a couple of days, Samuel commandeered grandpa’s favourite hat.

It went everywhere with him – a permanent fixture on his head! 

There is loads of history in that hat.  I was a Rotary exchange student in the US in 1995.  Our town supported the Green Bay Packers with much gusto.  When they won the ‘97 Superbowl, my host parents came to visit us, bringing with them a bunch of championship caps over for the men in our family.  Little did I know at the time, that, 12 years later, my own little man would carry on the Packer support at the tender age of (almost) 3!

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A beach outing

The week in Hermanus was mostly cold and overcast, except for Friday and Saturday.  So, on Saturday we enjoyed a late afternoon run on the beach.  It was a bit chaotic, what with little kids scattering in all directions on the vast beach, like spilled marbles. 

Although it was mildly stressful for the parental types, trying to keep tabs on the distant dots that were our children, it was a blast for the kids… who got thoroughly wet…

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and covered in sand…

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and then plopped happily next to grandpa, chomping sandy crunchies (or, more accurately, crunchy sand)

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