Autumn was the Perfect Accompaniment to my Stolen Turtles

We woke up this morning, and I stood in front of the bathroom mirror looking at my sleep deprived face. Every night midnight pulls me in, making me linger in all that peaceful quiet, but then suddenly leaves me for the wee hours. Morning comes too soon. But it was a Saturday morning, and I was feeling a little refreshed at not having any school work to observe.

My eyes want to reject contact lens so early. What an insult they are to eyes that are not even ready to be open. Have to do it, not letting the ocean take another pair of glasses. I loaded up the children and drove to the beach for a terrible surprise. The last weekend before school starts, and everyone was at the beach. Good god there were too many humans to interact with for homebodies like ourselves. We shrank back to our sanctuary, defeated.

So what do you do on a Saturday while hiding from swarms of people, trapped in the house with two young children? You suddenly find the time to do that recipe from the back of the children’s magazine that the boy has been asking to do for weeks. That one that will result in cookie dough pieces stuck to the dining room rug for the next month or so.

Making cookies for children is kind of like making edible play dough. It’s the improved version of play dough. The boy read me the recipe, shuffling through the fractions. Reading and math accomplished on a Saturday—we are over achievers. Then time for art: edible sculptures of turtles.

The tot, of course, was game. In fact, she even washed her hands after playing in the sandbox just to participate. Here is all of her dough, in one lovely interpretation of a turtle:

The boy constructed two impressive turtles, then dissolved into whining. It takes too long… It is so hard to be five. You have to squish dough around in your hands to make the cookies that you’ve been wanting to make for weeks, and then eat them—it must be exhausting. And nobody will call one big blob of dough an “interpretation” of a turtle when you are five. That ship has sailed. The boy was facing yet another of life’s harsh realities: One must follow through on a bad decision.

“I’ll finish them for you…and then I’ll eat them,” I said from the kitchen, crossing my fingers. (That is a really good butter cookie recipe…)

“No!” The boy yelled, as though I was snatched the finished product from his mouth.

And here we are:

I’m quite impressed. This is far from the magazine equivalent of a Pinterest fail for a five year old. That little reluctant artist.

I got some warm cookies and took those stolen goods outside with me, to observe the air. Maybe it’s all those back-to-school advertisements on the radio, or maybe it has to do with our focus on learning now that the boy has officially begun homeschooling, but there was a distinct feeling of the end of summer. It was dry for a change and with that golden sunset, it felt like fall. Autumn always brings with it a mysterious excitement.

Autumn was the perfect accompaniment to my stolen turtles.