Cal is talking excitedly about “pun-quinns.” I do not want to correct him.


Evelyn: “I was just thinking…”
Me: “Yes? About what?”
Evelyn: “Well… about how this is my ninth summer, and it’s ending, and I know I’ll have more summers,” she starts to sob, “but I won’t ever be able to come back and live this one again, and do the things that I did this summer…”


Evelyn: “I’m lucky to live a life where the only thing I have to worry about it whether I’m going to trim my fingernails too short…”


Evelyn, running into the kitchen: “Mommy! Mommy. I was about to drop my sweater on the floor of the front closet. And then I heard your voice in my head asking me if that was a good idea. So instead, I folded it up and put it on the stairs for the next time I go up to my room.”


Calvin: “The weekend. The weekend. The weekend. The weekend. I talking about the weekend because I love it to be the weekend. I like the weekend because I like it that way. Because I do like the weekend. The weekend. The weekend. The weekend.”


James was telling me about one of his best students, who is one of the top 30 students in his year at UD. Evelyn was listening, and when he’d finished, she said, “What I want to know is whether he has good common sense.”


Calvin’s teacher pulled me aside when I got to his school to pick him up one afternoon. 

Holding my arm, she said, “I just have to tell you how incredibly empathic your son is. Do you know what he does when he wakes up from his nap before the other children? He tiptoes over to the bookshelf to get a book for each of them and distributes them so that when they wake up they have something to read. And when one of the kids falls down, he quietly goes over and pats their arm to check on them and comfort them.”


One morning Char came downstairs fully dressed for school with tap shoes on her feet. And she honestly could not believe I made her change into sneakers.



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