Viking paper dolls wait patiently near the printer. The boy is coloring his alphabet sheets. Little Cecilia munches on her cereal. The house is quiet. The bus goes by. The girls are still asleep.
Everything just feels...right.
At night I read them a chapter from Anne of Green Gables. During the day she reads The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and she reads The Witch of Blackbird Pond. We've talked about the Danes (they giggled with glee when I used the wall map to show them Denmark and Norway and Sweden. "Just like a real teacher!") and St. Gregory the Great and how China is smaller than the U.S. but has more than three times as many people.
Her eyes lit up when she figured out that multiplying something by a fraction makes it smaller instead of bigger. They laughed as we all hopped up and down the number line. It turns out that negative numbers aren't as confusing as they sound.
They're just so...happy.
And we found a snake track in the dirt and picked our pole beans and collected our eggs (5 a day, every day!) and discovered a bee hive in our maple tree.
I'm proud of them. Proud of us.
And judging by this sign I found hanging on our fence advertising the reason for their absence to their former bus mates, I'm guessing they're proud of us too.