Scotland likes to teach kids to read and write very early (too early!) in their schooling, and although I am rather ambivalent about this fact, I do quite like finding mysterious notes like this on L.’s pillow as I check on him before I go to bed. It’s like a scary visual short story as I read THE TIGERS WERE HUNGRY and search under his covers to make sure his entire body is under there.
Last weekend we hiked up Scolty Hill, just out of Banchory on Deeside. It was a miserable day and all of the photos I took of the view from the top were merky. Many were blurred with the hail that we walked in for the last stretch. Poor L., who was the most excited about going, was uncharacteristically complain-y about walking, lying on the woods floor and saying he was tired every fiveminutes. After we got home and were half way through a hearty supper of fish+chips, he threw up. And continued to do so the next day. Oops. It was not a disastrous hike even though it sounds like it could have been, but we’ll return in the summer and try another route up the hill and I will post then the pictures of the Dee shimmering in the sun and all of us prancing up the hill with boundless energy.
(Apologies for these rather short posts recently. One of the kids–which? I don’t know!–broke the mouse pad on my new computer about a week after I got it, and the shop is taking a long time to repair it for some reason. Apparently I could just get a new one, given how long it has taken them to order/receive the part, but that would open a can of ethical worms for me–we all know those are the worst–so I continue to wait, and hope that anyone who emails me will be patient, or write me a letter instead).