Saved by grace. Living one step at a time: sometimes by faith, sometimes with doubt, but faith is a better way to go.
Married to my one and only love.
Raising my four beautiful, bouncy, brilliant girls.
We're second generation homeschoolers.
We're all book crazy.
Make that just generally crazy.
They build, industriously turning our living room into something else.
There are pillows, scarves, belts, little wooden chairs. The couch is called into service. Cushions pile up.
"You sit here," one girl says. "I'll make sure you're strapped in."
One sister sits down. The others return the baby to her spot. "Now, be still," they tell her.
She crawls away, again.
"Well, we'll go without her, this time," they say.
The oldest sister holds up her arm. "Clear?" She calls across the room
The next sister holds up her own arm. "Clear!" She confirms.
Then their roller coaster swings into action. There are loops, hair pin turns, death defying drops before the train finally pulls back in.
They loosen the belt strapping Little Sister into her seat.
"How was your ride?"
"Great!" She says, bouncing up.
"Let's go again!"
And for them the living room disappears and once again becomes an amusement park. Maybe this time they'll get the baby to ride along side their stuffed animals and whichever sister isn't a "park employee" for this ride.
Maybe not. Either way, it's cheaper than the tickets we bought to the real thing this summer. They're already asking when we can go again. Until we do (next summer?), I can foresee a lot of "playing roller-coaster" around our house.
That's fine by me. Maybe I'll ask for a ticket. After all, I like roller coasters, too.
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