Just thoughts...

I posted a few more pictures from London here.

Catherine and I finally dragged out their padded bench swing last week and set it up in a shaded area beside the garden. The temperatures here have been uncharacteristically hot for England; record breaking, in fact. I was taking a break from nothing yesterday, lying sideways, swinging, while Ginger Ranger playfully (and repeatedly) ambushed my hand from underneath the bench where he had deviously taken refuge. That kitten is so playful; mostly humorously so, but every so often he’ll drive me nuts while I’m sweeping up, continually attacking the broom I’m using. I don’t even try to avoid him, but he comes back over and over, even after being bashed in the head on more then one occasion. A little later, I ventured over to the stable to have a visit with my dear friend, Paisley. She was rescued as a foal, after being abandoned on a street somewhere at only a few hours old, and raised solely by humans, so she’s very people friendly and acts more like a dog then a horse; sniffing my hand and licking me. In the evening, whenever I go out to see her, she comes over and steps up on a two inch ledge in the door so she can comfortably put her head over top of the stall door to greet me; which puts us at exact eye level. I’ll usually spend a good 20 minutes talking and singing to her, stroking her face and neck; I love taking her face in my hands and giving her a kiss right on the nose. It’s one of my favorite things to do and she seems to appreciate the attention.

On Monday morning, Edward decided to stay back and play (his play group is now over for the summer) while Catherine dropped the twins off at school. While tidying up, I took a moment to check up on him. The last I had seen, he was wandering around in the yard so I went out the front door to look around. At first glance, I saw nothing, but as I started to head back in the house, I noticed that the sleeping bag on the trampoline had started to move. My first feeling was that I had found him safe and sound and could continue what I was doing, but that thought was quickly taken over by the desire to scare the pants off him. I took off my sandals so to make a quiet approach but, unfortunately, he looked before I reached him. The next half hour was spent taking on the persona of a 4 year old; climbing into the sleeping bags and seeing how long we could jump before falling over, running and sliding on them, tripping and chasing eachother, and finally getting crawled on and granted nearly a hundred "5’s" (some "too slow"), laughing all the while. Kids are such a joy. If it wasn’t clear before, Edward is the one I was speaking of when referring to the child I had become closest too. He was much more defiant in the beginning, but since realizing the following three things, he’s been such a joy to me: 1) I do, in fact, mean what I say, 2) If I tell him not to do something, I’m not going to let him do it, and 3) If I tell him to do something, I’m not going to let him walk away without doing it. At times, when they’re being particularly challenging, part of me says "You’ll only be here for another month, don’t even bother", but it’s just not in my nature to let a 4 and 6 year old walk all over me. I suppose some of that can be attributed to pride, but I really want to make a difference in this family and I think the best way to do that is to lead by example. I’m just a broken printer away from implementing a reward strategy; it involves cars and a race track so the boys’ competitiveness should aid in its success, but it’s really just a matter of consistency. It sometimes surprises me when I tell them to do something that they had never before been expected to do, and see it done without an argument or excuse and sometimes even preceded by an "Ok, Stacy". After my somewhat negative nannying experience almost two years ago, it’s nice to know that I am doing something right.