Foggy Farmgirl Friday

Still overcast and cloudy in our little community. Grace and the baby and I are in denial about the fact that we're supposed to be packing for a family road trip.

So... this morning we have played with chickens, fought with fencing, watched Sesame Street (still love it!), watered the garden, watched the big girls walk to school and the laundry pile grow before our very eyes.

Yesterday was a big day for Madeleine. Her friend was reading his book at school. Our country school is project-based, which means that about every six weeks the entire student body of 53 kids changes to a new subject through which to view the world.

Wish I could.

So far this year the girls have delved deep into: the physics of liquids and solids, endangered species activism, carving (that was only one trip to the emergency room, thank you), animal husbandry (who knew rabbits were so prolific?)... and the list goes on. Most of the time it has been fun. This final unit is all about the phases of publishing, which cracks me up in that way that I'm supposed to turn around and hide behind my not-snickering hands.

These kids are seriously cute.

Anyway, Madeleine's classmate L was being celebrated for the publishing of his book. A chapter book, no less. The entire town turned out to hear the reading. The teacher typed all night and bound it with special staples.

The audience assembled on the carpet and waited with bated breath for his first words. I hope I someday have a reading so well attended.

And when he started reading, the smallest kindergartener, who happens to be the author's brother, stood up to announce that it was "rated PG-13."

Whu-ut?

There are some serious differences between boys and girls, and I am reminded of that almost daily by my nephews and other assorted boy creatures who run all over our house and yard with my girls. Who are not prissy, except by comparison to this book. The subject of little L's book was respecting war heroes (very cool) and the method he employed was to graphically and bloodily and thoroughly describe some acts of war his grampa had filled him in on.

So without being judgmental, if I can help it, I want to say he's a boy. Through and through. He comes from an extremely nice family of dedicated parents to four boys and two girls. They are spiritual and I would even say pacifist. And look where that got 'em.

I was sitting next to his mother, when she wasn't sinking through the carpet. Her conclusion? Freedom of speech is an awesome, powerful thing, and somebody should have dang well edited her child's expression.

You better believe I checked my girls' books, as-yet un-"published." And then I breathed an enormous sigh of relief to find that Maddy is composing a mystery about a missing notebook and Sarah is doing a nonfiction booklet about Panda bears. Whew. Phew. Dodged a bullet.