Vampire Art and Other Stuff You Learn in School

I have a confession to make. I really love homeschooling. This surprises me, as before this year I mostly made fun of people who homeschooled. Psychos. I've seen the light, and now like Saul becoming Paul--I believe. I believe I love it. And this is why.

A few days ago, I was doing a history lesson with Parker. We were study this painting by Jan Van Eyck.

The next morning Parker told me, "I dreamed about that creepy, pale guy in the Van Eyck painting last night. He was a vampire. It was very scary. Let's not study Van Eyck anymore."

Reason 1: More educated nightmares.

Today Parker was learning about Martin Luther. He was supposed to draw a picture to illustrate what happened to Martin Luther in Worms, Germany. If you are unfamiliar with this historical event, Martin Luther was summoned to Worms to denounce what he was preaching against the Catholic church, specifically his 95 Theses. He refused, and the Pope banned him from the Catholic church.

Parker drew a picture of the pope saying, "Eat worms!" Martin Luther is next to him proclaiming, "Hey--I'm not a spider." Then the pope has a thought bubble that reads, "But you are a pest."

I loved it! Parker understood more than the facts relating to history; he understood the attitude.

Reason #2: People with attitudes like learning with an attitude.

Now Parker is reading over my shoulder explaining that a special meeting is called a "diet." So if Martin Luther went to Worms he had a "diet of Worms."

"Write that, mom. It makes it funnier," Parker explains.

"I think it should be explained, not explains," Parker further explains. "I taught mom a lesson in grammar."

Reason #3: Refer to Reason #2.

Dinner and a Show

Picture this dinnertime scene. Deacon is standing up in his chair, wearing nothing but a pair of Parker's undies. They are very baggy. He has pulled the underpants up, so they are resting comfortably at nipple level. He has drawn a black line under his nose with a marker, and it resembles a small Charlie Chaplin mustache. He raises his hand.

"Yes, Deacon," Chris says.

"Umm, I need," he starts, and places one of his hands down the back of his loose underwear and proceeds to scratch, "I need to show you something pretty."

"O.k."

"This!" And he thrusts out his bum-scratching hand for all to see.

Beautiful.

Deacon Days

I've been getting grief about not posting for awhile. There is a reason for this. Life has been full of the everyday, normal, non-exciting stuff. Since we might be waiting awhile for something blog-worthy to happen, here is an update on my most exciting and crazy child.

Deacon has managed to stay alive, and I have managed to stay sane (mostly) parenting him. Yesterday, there was a knock on the door. I opened it and was surprised at the person standing there. That person was Deacon. I had yet to discover he was missing. I did learn he can open the door to the garage. Once in the garage, he simply needs to crawl under the garage door that I had left cracked open for the cat, and then--freedom. I'm glad he came home this time. Last week when he went missing he was at the park. He has also survived this past week burning his fingers when he successfully figured out how to light a match; burning his fingers when he wanted to touch a light bulb in the lamp; breaking a lamp; removing protective covers from outlets, assorted bumps and bruises from jumping off things not meant to be jumped off; scissors removed from his hands several times a day, etc., etc. In the last five minutes the following events have occurred:

Deacon walking up to me with McKay's purse around his neck. Pointing to the purse, "I need a sandwich and a banana in here."

I threw some corn dogs in the oven, but apparently that's not fast enough for him. He's pushed a chair over to the toaster oven and is trying to figure out how to operate it.

So pretty normal stuff here. Someday something more exciting than Deacon taking off his shoes in church and throwing them across the chapel will occur, but until then, it's same old, same old at the Davis house.