HomeLife,  HomeSchooling,  London Eli Scout,  Piper Finn Willow

happiness. wisdom.

 

At the end of this school year it seems that London’s reading skills have finally taken off.

She reads everything.

All the time.

Beckett wore a shirt that had an arrow and said “He did it”.  London cracked up and whispered to me, “Mom, I think Beck’s shirt is perfect because it says he did it.  And he probably did.”

There was a sign hanging in Sally’s laundry nook.  “Hey Mommy,” London announced.  “I think this sign might be wrong.  It says ‘farm’ then ‘dairy’ but it probably should read ‘dairy farm’.”

And forget spelling any secrets out loud any longer.

“What?  It’s bed time?”  Or “Hey everybody – Mommy and Daddy say we might be able to get ice cream later.”

Really, though, I just adore a new reader.

It is simply such an unexplainable gift to know that she is reading thoughts and ideas because I showed her words and sounds.

And what’s more –

you cannot stop them from learning.

(Not that I would want to – but now she’s on this track and there’s no getting her off of that thing.)

If you’ve ever stopped by (or closely studied the backgrounds of my photos) you would quickly see that our house is a mecca of words.

A shrine to them, perhaps.

A friend’s younger brother once called it The House of Words.

I liked that.

(Even if he didn’t mean it as a compliment.)

Whenever Riley sees me with a paintbrush in my hands, she sighs and asks in mock disdain (at least, I pretend it’s mock), “What are you about to write now?”

I like words.

That figures.

So I stick them in a lot of places.

On chalkboard cabinet doors.

In the kitchen.  On the walls of every room.  On the door jams. In the bathroom.  By the sink.  Beside the closet.  Above the windows.

London came in from outside recently and said, “I read that one magnet Mom. The one on the door.  It said being happy is one way of being wise.”

“Cool.” I told my I-can’t-believe-she’s-almost-seven-years-old daughter.  “What do you think that means?”

She gave me a classic London stare with a head tilt slightly to the right.   “Uh – it means that being happy is wise, Mom.”

Yeah – you’re right.

And happy.

And wise.

London skipped away.

The day progressed as it does.  (Which means we played, we cried, we ate, we ran, we rested.)

Eventually it was bedtime.

I asked London to help her little sister find her pajamas.

London agreed.

Piper protested.   (Because that’s what Piper does.)

She’s two.

I get it.

I don’t intervene at first.

And then I observe this . . .

London squatted to her level and

whispered in Willow’s face,

“But Piper,

don’t you know

that

being happy

is one way

of being wise?”

 

 

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10 Comments

  • LaceyKeigley

    Thanks Ticcoa.
    And seriously – why have you never been inside my home more often?
    I am entirely to blame for that.
    Please let's remedy that situation!

  • ticcoaleister

    As a fellow word-lover, this post warms my heart. What would our world be without words? Though I've only seen glimpses of you letter-filled home (entirely in pictures here), I'm enthralled by the way you weave words throughout your home. You definitely have a way with words. 🙂

  • Gretchen

    That is so wise! I love their ability to read. You know it truly is amazing! Adorable. I think it is so sweet too when my kids, and I know yours do this too…….when they read to each other. They snuggle together and read. So precious!

  • Amanda

    I like words too.
    I can truly tell how much you like words because your writing on everyday life is AMAZING!
    Keep up the good W.o.R.d.S~

  • terry

    Joy is an essential part of wisdom – just came up in the book I'm reading. I completely agree and think the house of words is awesome!

    • laceykeigley

      Joy is essential to being wise. (Ah – the lessons life has taught us – eh?)
      What book are you reading?