Today has been a napping in the hammock, biking downtown and back, painting the basement hallway (the Great Timeline commences!!!) day. The dad and the Syd left this afternoon for hours' worth of errands, leaving the Willow behind--who was distraught to discover this, once her head popped up from her book and she was informed that her father had ASKED her to come with them over an hour ago as they were leaving, but she was so busy reading that she had declined. She has no memory of this refusal, silly girl. As a former reading child myself, I've mentioned to Matt that the only way to gain a reading child's real and true attention is to put a hand on her shoulder and wait for her to look up and maintain eye contact. If she makes eye contact but her eyes keep darting back to her book, she's still not paying attention.
Will's idea for how to pass the dreadful time until the dad and the Syd came back was to decamp with a blanket and numerous supplies out to the backyard where we would--guess what?--read. Of course, there was also lots of tree climbing, running around, laying back (this is where I got my hammock nap in), and drawing:
Ankylosaurus and Plesiosaurus
In other news, Will is also recovering from a raging case of swimmer's ear. As her pediatrician was washing a build-up of earwax out of the affected ear, he both announced that Willow is definitely the year's record-holder so far of earwax removed, and mentioned in passing that he was surprised her hearing hadn't been affected, her ear was so clogged. As we left the doctor's office later, I commented on what he had said, and Willow replied, "Yeah, I can't hear you a lot."
Just when you think that you have a reasonably bright child on your hands, one who is smart and sensible, you turn around and discover that she's neglected to tell you that she's been half-deaf for who knows how long. Really, sometimes I wonder if there is anything inside a child's brain other than fireflies and crayons and the desire for candy.