well there's no fire in the fireplace, there's no carpet on the floor

Ugh, kids learning to play an instrument are THE WORST.  Maybe I was just as bad when I started piano, but I don't remember resisting counting the music the way my kids all have.  They just plow doggedly ahead, playing it incorrectly, refusing any attempts at correction, and insisting that they are playing it the same way I am.  Spoiler:  THEY'RE NOT.  My experiences with Ike have set back my course for the celestial kingdom by a good five years.  There have been some regrettable words and actions concerning the counting.  Any piano folks out there:  how do you get them to count?  Without murdering them in the process?

Grant is playing early morning basketball at the high school gym three times a week (when he gets up), is doing one last basketball league before summer, and has started spring soccer.  He had to write three poems for his Language Arts class and he was a giant baby about it because he says he hates poetry.  Pfft, who doesn't?  That's rude--some poetry is very nice.  But just like owning a camera doesn't make you a photographer, knowing how to rhyme does not make you a poet.  He recently read the Maze Runner series, and now we're reading "The Jungle" together.  I have warned him that it's going to be a total downer, but he is going to thank me when he gets to a class that makes him read it.

Emmett got up last night to watch the lunar eclipse.  He says it was cool.  He has applied to be a Peer Sports Adviser at school, and we like to imagine that it's not only because he likes to have control over other people.  He loved P.E., except for the wrestling segment, because wrestling is weird.  Who wants to wear a swimsuit and roll around in somebody else's sweat?  Emmett is playing rec soccer and scored last week.  He is reading another of Carl Hiaasen's books--I got him "Hoot" for Christmas, and now he's reading "Chomp."  They seem like a lot of fun.

Ike has started playing comp soccer and wants to wear his uniform all day every day.  He loves school, loves his teacher, and loved taking his core test yesterday.  He wants to play the trombone.  He is a very passionate, tenderhearted and obstinate little fellow.  He likes things to go his way, but not in a spoiled way.  He just doesn't like change or uncertainty, and is very hard to talk down once he gets upset about something.  He is reading "Flush," another by Carl Hiaasen.

Willa is getting her tonsils out next week.  She got tonsillitis a couple of months ago, then got it again a few weeks later, and the swelling never really went down.  Her tonsils are so big I don't know how she eats or breathes.  We would have liked to keep them in, but when your tonsils are not performing their duty, and in fact are actively working against you, then it seems like maybe they should go.  I have had a number of older people say they wish they had gotten theirs out as children because they have so many problems with them now.  Willa, like Bill Cosby before her, is very excited about the popsicles and ice cream and pudding, but I'm sure she will suffer a similar disillusionment when she wakes up from the surgery and finds that the world is naught but misery and woe.  She is also playing rec soccer and scored last week.  I'm going to start her on piano lessons soon so she can eventually move up to the banjo, which is her new obsession after we went into KSM last week to buy guitar picks.  She said, "I can learn to play the song that Frog plays!"  Because she calls Kermit and Miss Piggy "Frog and Pig," which is awesome of her.  She is reading "Little Bear" by Maurice Sendak.  She wants a chapter book with no pictures, so we'll be on the lookout for that.  I don't know if she's ready to read "My Father's Dragon" by herself quite yet, but we could probably read it with her.

I am still practicing the guitar and learning Spanish and attempting to be a halfway decent Young Women's president.  Nothing else too exciting.

John is coaching Willa's soccer team and has grown some pointy sideburns that some people say make him look like he's in a play.  He is still the Primary chorister and still feels like it's the best job in the church.

Groceries keeps barfing on the floor, Rex keeps being good, the goats are pregnant, the chickens are not laying eggs, and the rabbits and bees are all still alive.