Waffles for breakfast. I started the yeast batter last night, added the eggs in the morning, and baked them up shatteringly crisp and brown for me and the kids (the way waffles are supposed to be), underdone and swimming in syrup for Mark (weirdo).
We skipped music class and my morning workout because M.J. is still recovering from an intestinal bug. I think she's probably fine by now, but decided not to take chances of passing it on to 8 toddlers in music class and every child who stays in the YMCA hourly child care.
I read aloud the first part of Charles Kingsley's The Heroes: a lyrical and beautifully literary retelling of the story of Perseus. (Read it at Project Gutenberg.) Oscar and Milo insisted on hearing all five chapters straight through, punctuating the story with reminiscings from when I showed them The Clash of the Titans last year.
Afterward I bought some relaxation time by assigning them the schoolwork of drawing Medusa's head. "Don't make it too good," I told them, "I don't want to be turned to stone," which made Oscar make a face at me. Milo despaired because his attempts weren't to his mind as cool-looking as Oscar's, and so I assigned him instead the task of drawing a picture of Herpé, the Gorgon-slayer, the diamond scimitar of winged-footed Hermes. He colored it chartreuse. I'd share a photo except that Mark has packed the camera somewhere for his upcoming ski trip.
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