The girls built a tent in one of their rooms out of a sheet this weekend. They filled the tent with pillows, sleeping bags and duvets, and laid three sleeping pads and a carpet on the ground. They went in there on Saturday morning with a bottle of pop, several bags of chips, one of the computers and four or five movies.
They emerged on Sunday morning...at different times...Eldest-nascent-adolescent MUCH later...
They had a lovely time.
We forced them out for a couple of hours yesterday to go for a walk in the hills, and to eat a little (plus a little homework, the poor darlings).
They went to bed - that's a misnomer, they barely got out of it- about 1am last night...I went to bed hearing them giggling over 'Flubber'!
They haven't been as cranky as they might have been given the lack of sleep...we even went for a second delightful walk in the mountains today. I remember going to wild places with my folks when I was a kid, and they are some of the sweetest memories of my childhood, though we were far from wilderness explorers and never went anywhere hugely remote...though sometimes when we were cruising...still, I remember those places closely. Sometimes when I am in the hills with my kids, or when we were on a remote beach or anchorage, or picking carefully through places where birds flutter, where there are tracks on the ground that don't come from shoes, where things grow all on their own...I look at my kids and wonder how it is affecting them. It is strange that you never know what is going to catch inside a child. Eldest has been saying for several years that she wants to be an ichthyologist...to study fish; a direct line off from our lives on the boat.
I am listening to the Barça game while I type (hey, a little cultural immersion here; the Catalan equivalent of Hockey Night in Canada), Eldest got up for a snack during halftime (it's a lot of work this growing business) and listened to the Barça theme...you can listen to it here. She mentioned how very much the theme sounds like a national anthem...you know how they have that tone...the reality is, that this is true to some extent...I know the holy kingdom of sport and all, but that is not where I am going. The reality is that under Franco, the only place the Catalan flag could be flown was at a Barça game..it became one of the few places where Catalans could come together in public and cheer for a symbol of their culture and nation - there is not an adequate English word that I can think of...culture is a little weak and nation is not accurate, strictly speaking; but truly, for many Barça was the only open voice for Catalan nationalism and cultural support. So, it sounds like an anthem. It was, and in some ways, still is.
I have GOT to get the camera out....
update...crapola, Barça lost and now it's raining...I wonder if the two are tied?