We're finally falling into what more or less could be termed a routine around here. One that obviously doesn't include much time for blogging, but hey, you can't have everything.
Sylvia's still liking her school, though she also still complains about getting ready in the morning. I hope she grows out of that, but I'm not holding my breath.
Paul, on the other hand, loves getting ready in the morning, especially on school days. He loves going to the bus stop. Loves. He's familiar enough with the sequence of events that have to happen before going to the bus stop that he spontaneously gets his shoes on in the morning. Pants...well, he still considers them optional.
Derrick has his bike and he bikes in to work probably as often as he rides the bus, which I like. The buses around here are nice, but a little unpredictable, so Derrick's commute can be anywhere from 30 minutes to more than an hour. Biking is pretty much 25 minutes.
In less than happy news, Sylvia's Skuut, which she loved, died a little more than a week ago. One of the bearings on the rear wheel fell apart and now the wheel is so wobbly it's not really safe to ride anymore. I've been trying to find replacement parts, but haven't had much luck so far. Supposedly you can buy a new wheel (including two bearings) for about $30. Supposedly you can also buy a new bearing of the right size, also for about $30. Guess which option I'd prefer.
I'm getting writing done on my novel. Feeling vaguely less guilty most days for quitting my PhD and focusing on fiction. Some days I'm still pretty frustrated and angry about the situation, but those days are getting fewer and turning into afternoons of frustration instead of days on end of frustration.
On a happier note, Sylvia's taken a definite interest in cooking lately. This week we made lemon bars after she badgered me to make a lemon pie for days. She's even been eating them, which I didn't expect. Last time I made them I seem to remember the flavor was too strong for her to enjoy (though I admit that may be a self-serving memory). We also made pizza last night (yeah! Friday pizza night!) and the kids helped me put together the dough. Cooking with kids is certainly an exercise in shushing the inner perfectionist. Good times.