Ever since Orison learned about the pregnancy, he’s been referring to the baby as she. No gentle warnings toward wait-and-see could shake his confidence.

Today Molly posted the video of Orison discovering he’s expecting not one sister, but two.

I love it near the end when he announces the number of children in the family, remembering Felicity.

Outside,

Never one to deserve the taj of a dunce, Millie prepared pragmatically for the competition, poring over the libretto of words, words, words. Not even the beauty of the carmine setting sun could lure her from her spelling recitations.

Squashing the suspicion that such obscure words could have been assigned only through misanthropy, she pursued mastery of each word like a vigilante.

Through all this hard work, she wedged her way into the Regional Bee, adjacent to only one other 5th grader–both girls facing down the machismo of 7th and 8th graders. Millie held on obstinately to the end, through 11 rounds and a spell-off for 4th place.

By the end of the Bee, her father was in need of a tranquilizer.

If there had been a sashimi restaurant in town, that would have been a worthy place to celebrate.

Way to go, Millie!

A poem by our oldest, Karsten, is featured in a review of Cave Wall , a literary journal (page down alphabetically to C). Part of the review says:

Karsten Piper, has a knack for striking visual descriptions. In his poem, “The Jaw Harp,” he describes a man on the street playing a harp:

He plucked a shining harp
like nails and teeth untying knots.
His ancient throat-stone bobbed
beneath his collar, and ductile notes
spilled out among his fingers,
each chasing the one before,
before it echoed over the cliffs, away.

This type of language is so physical and real, and is a recurring quality throughout this issue.

I wish I were a student in one of Karsten’s classes at Minnesota West Community College. It’s a sweet thing for a mother when her children surpass her.