Sunday morning and this means homework for both kids. Madeleine does hers dutifully though insists word-spelling with mom. Fair enough. As for me, I am out the door early to run around Richmond Park where half-way it pours and the temperature drops 15-degrees. Must be May. Since the kids live in a rat's nest, I focus momentarily on a clean-up invading their space with a garbage bag and instructions to
"toss everything in site." This produces a wail of protest from the
Shakespeares and we enter negotiations on everything they hold dear. Rocks, balls of string, broken CD player, dolls, stacks of football magazines and clippings, doll house, toy
furniture and on and on it goes. Finally I give in as the anguish genuine and my resolve
noncommittal. I vaguely remember how I, too, horded my junk -
Todd and I famously traded live salamanders for garage junk - so I have some empathy for the little
pathetics. Sonnet, on the other hand, takes a different tactic: wait until the house empty.
