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If you were looking for oddities, you came to the right place. I'm an unschooling mom and writer living on the Canadian prairies. Topical Index:~Sermonology with Breakneck Dave~Life-Led Lessons in the Living School ~Field Trips ~Family Fanaticism ~Projects ~Mom Mumblings ~RANTISHNESS ~WRITISHNESS |
wild (but not uncultivated) musings of a Canadian unschool momHome | Archives | contact Snow Somersaults and Panic Attacks11:45 AM - Mar. 13, 2006 - Add to the Wildness
There is something you simply must try: Go out in the snow with your kids, start running, plant your hands down in the snow, and let your momentum carry you head-over-heels flat onto your back. It feels like it should really hurt, but it doesn’t! I don’t know when I last had such a case of the giddy giggles. Breakneck taking one of the earplugs from his job and suctioning it to his forehead for most of the evening came in a close second. By the time he went to bed, the guy looked like he’d been popped with a suction-cup dart square in the middle of the forehead. It’s an earplug, man! What are you doing?? To get back to the snow somersaults, the fun was sadly broken when a truck drove by and we heard a loud BANG and a YELP from our dog. She got rolled under the rear tire. I was amazed she was still moving all four legs when I got to her. The guy stopped and was apologetic, which was very kind of him considering most of our neighbours know our dog’s a chronic car-chaser. We’ve even had some of them drive by hollering at her quite, um, sharply. We took her back to the house and tied her up to keep her from wandering off. She hid under the step for awhile. Then, when I went to check on her, she’d peed blood in a couple of places. I thought, oh, no, she’s got internal injuries and she’s probably going to die. She was lying in her dog house in shock. So I broke Breakneck’s cardinal rule about No Dogs In The House and brought her into the mudroom. She was woozy and couldn’t even lie herself down, and I didn’t know if she was long for this world. The kids were quite distraught about the blood, and they all prayed for their doggie. We even phoned some of their friends and asked for prayer for Bran. Brat Boy ran into the living room and threw himself on the couch face down with his hands over his eyes, and I felt so bad. It was just like, Why, Lord? So the devil's been on the prowl constantly for the last few months - but this is such a big thing to the children. It's mean! And it's not fair! I said, "What’s wrong, little boy?" Instantly he popped up with a determined look on his face. "I’m askin’ Jesus to hewp us take care of our dog." Two or three minutes of silence later, he popped up again with a smile on his face. "I said the words, Mom!" Squirrelly Girlie informed me that she went up on her bed and prayed as well. After the kids were in bed, we finally heard the dog drinking. Then she got up and whined to go out. Going to the bathroom seems like a lengthy, difficult process for her, but she did go out twice. We will just have to nurse her bruised kidneys back to health, and then, it seems, give that critter a flea bath. Yuck. But at least our Bran is alive. The Bran Muffin
(the original owners named her Brandy, but we don't go for that)
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