Feral Celts
First I eliminated the PS2 because I grew so weary of my children talking about Count Duku and General Grievous like they were relatives.
I kept the Wii because I felt it was therapeutic in some sense. After about a day of homeschooling, I nixxed that, too.
For now.
Until I am worn down, yet again. Which will happen.
(Those of you familiar with my unorthodox discipline techniques can see a little cash coming my way.)
TV got the punt except for a few random Olympics which I felt encouraged an awareness of Geography.
With all things electronic rapidly vanishing, the Leapster, which had languished underneath McD sacks in the back of the van for months, suddenly took a front seat. Now we are battling over Spiderman math games. (At least we are reinforcing multiplication tables.)
This lead to a resurgence of interest in Webkins. I was slightly nervous when they made mention of those creatures because I feared our furry offspring had all passed on from neglect during the past three months.
I was wrong. They are sturdy critters.
Still, today I took those Webkins away. Again.
And now I have this:
(See my laptop on my kitchen bar in the background? Yes, that’s where I blog!)
We studied the Celts today as part of our history curriculum, The Story of the World, Volume 2. Immediately Edward grabbed a blue magic marker and begged to tint his face blue. “Go for it!” I encouraged.
Two minutes later everyone was blue and begging to smear animal fat in their hair.
(One child suggested we render fat from a squirrel we could hunt in the back yard…he was quickly hushed.)
They settled for hair gel.
As I write, my children have tugged a fallen tree limb from the “woods” and are chopping away on its rotted trunk with plastic swords and make-shift “Chinese Stars” they have fashioned out of rock pieces.
Here is the place where they hone their stars:
They are being children.
They are filthy with blue faces, covered in insect bites, half-clothed, clutching half-eaten apples in one hand and Star Wars swords in the other.
Thank you God.
At least Bearhug stopped tearing up Cuddlebug’s track and started helping him build 
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