Today has been a pirate-y day around the good ship Jane Explorer. (Jane Explorer is the name of our cat. No lie. She's named, quite sensibly, after a cardboard box spaceship that was also named Jane Explorer. Or maybe she's named for the procession of dolls named Jane. At one point, Kid was naming everything Jane, which made her parents' life much easier. No so many personal pronouns for all the little objects that a child holds dear...)
But I digress. Today was a pirate day. I woke up grouchy and stumped around the kitchen when Kid gave me an enormous hug. I squealed "I've been keelhauled! By coating me with girlish sweetness, you're spoilin' me piratical disposition....arrrrrrggghhh...." and a new game was born, complete with headscarves. I'm Cap'n Bluestone and Kid takes on the role of Nell, the lass determined to save me from a life of ill-temper. We played this for about five minutes too long, as these things usually go, and then we had to careen to school to get there on time.
I'm the class "book wrangler" and I had to drop off a load of harvest-related, pumpkin/apple/how do cultures around the world celebrate harvest time books. There is a real gap in the market on easy-reading books on bird migration, explanations of why leaves turn colors, and the life of ponds in the fall. I was satisfied to learn that the kid who hadn't been reading at all at least picked up one of the books and looked at the pictures. I've got a soft spot in my heart for him because he's socially out of place -- a recently adopted child who bears all the hallmarks of lack of love and care in his formative years, placed rather suddenly in a classroom full of affluent and advantaged kids who've been indulged their whole lives and aren't very tolerant of difference. Maybe he just needs someone to notice that he likes cameras and leave around a book about taking photos of autumn leaves. I bet he'll be reading by Christmas.
And yes, there was even a book about pirates. It had nothing to do with autumn or apples or harvests, but kids like pirate books. And so do I. Arrrrrgh.