4-Year-Old Can Be Sued, Judge Rules in Bike Case
Note that the elderly victim of the reckless 4 year old died 3 months later of unrelated causes. It is her estate that is suing the little girl, now 6 or 7, who probably doesn’t even remember the incident. Perhaps the girl’s lawyer will settle out of court. I’d offer 5 years of net income as stated on her W2.
Having heard once, by a healthcare provider, of my need for “closure,” and having that sentiment sit with distaste in my mouth, it is lovely to see the reason for my discomfiture so eloquently explained:
My 3 year old: I have juice, Mommy?
Me: You’d like some juice? Sure, honey.
Visiting 3 year old: I’m thirsty, too.
Me: You’d like a drink too? Sure! What would you like?
Visiting 3 year old: I’d like a pina colada.
My friends raise their kids right.
I think this is the first year I’m finding the end-of-October festivities to be more fun than overwhelming.
First of all, my husband is home. Even though he really hasn’t done much, other than add some creative suggestions, it just makes everything better.
Secondly, neither the church nor the homeschool group has had a volunteer step forward to organize an All Saint’s Day party, so I have only one costume to worry about. Yes, I know some people restrict their children to just the saint costume, and more power to you. My kids and my husband enjoy more traditional Halloween costumes. And this is the one time of year that I consent to add to the dress up bin. So I’m happy there’s no saint party…call me evil; I’ll call me less stressed.
Thirdly, my youngest is 3. That makes a huge difference.
And then, this year, I have found my older children have finally reached an age where they are very useful in envisioning and creating their own costumes and very helpful in assisting with younger siblings’ costumes and very cooperative in accepting homemade alternatives to store-bought perfection. Katie wants to be a cat. Older brothers offer and produce black baseball pants, black socks and a black turtleneck shirt. She finds me ingenious when I use pink nail polish to paint black foam ears with a triangle for the inner ear. Years ago, she would have insisted (did insist) on a store-bought costume.
And, as influential as I am with my kids, nothing beats having an older brother to convince a 5 year old that his navy blue church pants are perfect to go with the borrowed, yellow firefighter coat. He had wanted red pants, and I had dreaded informing him that we don’t happen to own red pants. Problem solved by my 12 year old.
Fritz sprang a costume idea on me yesterday afternoon, which I would not normally permit. But it is so funny and so easy that I jumped right in. When Bill came home, he saw our work, said that his office was having dress up on Friday and he thought he’d steal Fritz’s for the day. It has me giggling, since I’m sure most people in his office think he’s the most humorless man to walk the planet. I will be sure to post pictures tomorrow, but won’t spoil the surprise today.
We’re definitely having fun here, and that’s a really nice change.
I impart no significance to the Feast of St. Crispin except that Fritz is memorizing Shakespeare’s St. Crispin’s Day speech which really is a fabulous oratory. Makes you want to pick up your sword and charge into a bunch of Frenchmen…(ok, not really). But inspiring nonetheless.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian.’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispian’s day.’
Most people are familiar with the line “We few, we happy few, we band of brothers…” but my favorite bit is the ending.
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
And I wonder if men today hold their manhoods cheap while in the presence of our combat veterans. But then I think that too many don’t even know what honor and glory are all about.
I cannot understand why anybody would ever, by choice, run ten miles.
And getting up at 530 am to travel through crowded metro stations for the privilege is even crazier.
Not to mention the crowded metro ride back with thousands of smelly runners.
But driving ten hours each direction to get to the friend’s house where you will be staying seems even more ludicrous.
But that’s right now. Tomorrow, after rest has dissipated the aches, I might start planning for next year.
“Peter,” said I to my son, “remember this picture?” He glanced up from something he was coloring and nodded. “Do you remember what is on the chair?”
The picture by Van Gogh is called The Chair and the Pipe because it shows a chair with a pipe on the seat. Peter, though, never seems able to disassociate the artist from the picture and whenever he sees a Van Gogh (any Van Gogh), thinks only of the details he has learned about his short, tragic life. So what does Peter automatically reply in response to my question?
“An ear.”
This afternoon, I am running away from home. Well, actually, on Sunday, I am running…away from home…participating in the Army Ten Miler in Washington, D.C., which is quite a way from home. But this afternoon, I am leaving to get there.
Like a good wife and mother, I am trying to ensure a stress-free weekend for my husband. I have made sure that there is plenty of milk, bread, eggs, bacon, frozen pizza and ketchup. I am quite confident that he knows how to find the McDonald’s across the street if necessary. This morning, I will make sure that my girls have all of the required components of their dance clothes ready to go and that their hair is brushed and pulled back. I will make sure that my boys have game uniforms and equipment assembled (no hunting for shin guards at the 11th hour on Saturday). If they can’t remember their water bottles, that’s too bad. I will also make sure that everybody knows what they are wearing to Mass, so that my husband does not have to listen to the female histrionic wailing of “I have nothing to wear.”
I’m hoping to get caught up on laundry, but I really doubt I’ll get the house cleaned (that’s my usual Friday afternoon activity). I’ll assign chores to the children, but it will be up to Bill to see that they are completed. If they aren’t, oh well.
I do hope to finish this week’s schoolwork this morning. The children are motivated for two reasons: this week is the end of the 1st quarter, and Monday is the Feast of St. Crispin. I have promised them dinner out on Monday (we have gift cards to the Olive Garden) to celebrate IF they have done all their work. What’s the big deal about St. Crispin? Fritz had to memorize the St. Crispin speech from Henry V. Any excuse to party will do.
I suppose I ought to pack at some point, too. I bought grapes and candy corn to sustain me on the car ride. Today I head to North Carolina to friend Rachel’s house. Saturday, Rachel and I will go to friend Christie’s house. Sunday, we shall run together (we band of sisters).
Some women might choose a spa weekend or a shopping trip to an outlet center. My girlfriends and I, we go for a ten mile run.
Yesterday I participated in a podcast with Chris Cash of the The Catholic Company and Catholic Spotlight. Our topic was oplatky, which are the special Christmas wafers traditionally used on Christmas Eve by Eastern European families. As soon as that podcast is posted, I’ll provide the link.
**Updated: the link is here.
One of the things we discussed was the traditional dinner known as Wigilia in Polish. The Slovak tradition is similar, and I promised Chris I’d check out my copy of The Anniversary Slovak-American Cook Book and do a post about the dishes listed there. The Traditional Christmas Eve Supper Menu is listed on page 8 and includes this explanation:
The traditional Christmas Eve Supper is prepared with home grown crops. The menu, therefore, varies in different parts of Slovakia. Varieties of soups are served. For example, some people serve mushroom soup, others serve sauerkraut soup with mushrooms…
Although I have a Slovak heritage, I and my family are definitely American and our taste buds, especially those of the children, don’t necessarily agree that sauerkraut or stewed prunes make for good eats. Having a “traditional” dinner isn’t much fun if nobody wants to eat it. So, although I post this menu for those who may be interested, I do not claim to prepare all these dishes or heartily enjoy them. If I were truly a traditionalist, my dinner would be made with home-grown crops which, this year, were primarily tomatoes, basil and peppers, none of which are included in this list.
Traditional Slovak Christmas Eve Supper
Oplatky (Christmas Wafers)
Honey (my mom says they always dipped the oplatky in the honey)
Wine
Mushroom Soup
Pagash (this is a filled dough – similar to stromboli, but filled with sauerkraut not tomato sauce and cheese)
Bobalky (this is a bread that you pour boiling water over and then coat with honey and poppy seed…sounds, um, different)
Fish (no specific recipe given)
Beans
Peas
Sauerkraut
Mixed Dried Fruits or Stewed Prunes
Assorted Fresh Fruits
Mixed Nuts
Nut and Poppy seed Rolls
Rozky (see below)
Coffee
Rozky was a section heading in the cook book and based on the picture and a quick read of the recipes must translate into “cookie”. Most of the recipes seem to be a filled cookie (nut filling or poppy seed or cheese or jam), and many seem to be shaped into crescents or horns. Since I’m a huge fan of cookies, I thought I’d share one of the Rozky recipes. Some of the recipes have various names, but at least 6 are labeled simply “rozky.” This is one of those. I say this so purists won’t write and tell me that their great-grandmother’s rozky recipe is nothing like my rozky recipe. For the record, I make Russian Tea Cakes with pecans, but many people say walnuts are the correct nut to use. Everybody has her own preference.
Rozky
1 1/2 pounds flour
1 pound butter
1 Tbl sugar
1 Tbl baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 can evaporated milk
5 egg yolks
filling
milk
Mix first 7 ingredients until well blended and dough does not stick to hands. Refrigerate for 1 hour or longer. Roll out on floured surface and cut into 3″ squares. Fill with poppy seed, prune butter or any desired filling. Roll and turn into crescents. Brush top with milk. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.
My kids all love to draw, as long as the subject matter is their choice. Drawing is a significant part of my school curriculum, especially in the younger years, and my children always resist the drawing assignments. It’s not so much fun to draw what somebody else wants you to draw. (Can’t say I blame them. I enjoy writing, but assign me a topic, and I will procrastinate and complain as though it is near torture.)
Usually, the children opt to copy a picture, because it helps to have someone else’s vision for what to do. That’s if they like the picture. But if they don’t feel comfortable drawing sheep, for example, and the Bible picture or Aesop’s fable or poem illustration shows sheep, my little students will dig in their heels and insist that the assignment is too hard. Fortunately, by 2nd grade, they get over this, generally because they now have 2 more years of experience in drawing.
Also, fortunately, if you are the 5th student and your mother has kept all the drawings (done in bound blank books) that your older siblings have done, you have a wide variety of illustrations to peruse until your muse inspires you. At the very least, it helps to know that they too had to do the same work and they managed, somehow.
I knew there was a reason I kept that shelf full of drawings.
Reit This Way 