
Tomorrow starts Dora’s second week of school, still half days. Both girls missed a couple of days of school on our weekend junket, but it is their responsibility to make sure their work is completed. They most certainly had plenty of time in the car to make it happen. I informed Dora tonight that Amy lost the option of missing school when we traveled because she never, ever made up her work. Kyle and Stephanie were always very conscientious about their academic responsibilities.
Speaking of Amy, tomorrow is D-day for her. I have no idea if she made something happen this weekend or not. Actually, it would be unlikely that
she made anything happen
today because she still has one more day of grace … but perhaps her boyfriend resolved her problem? I haven’t heard a word from anyone since nearly a week ago when I received the call from her boyfriend’s mother.
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I wrote in
this post about the mercurial moods both Beth and Dora were feeling these days. Dora fell apart over a missing dictionary, only to pull it together and rejoice over a package from one of her invested extended relatives. Shortly after she opened that package, a delivery truck pulled up and deposited three boxes on our doorstep. One contained a pair of moon boots, one was a disintegrating box with books spilling out the bottom, and one was stuffed full of clothes, some still attached to hangers. There was no note or message of any kind.
I knew receiving packages from her previous home would be a mixed blessing, and my instincts proved correct. She was thrilled to get the boxes, and as she held some items to her nose she declared, “These smell like my parents' home.” Soon, however, her elation turned to grief and sorrow. Once again, we processed her pain in the rocking chair. With the boxes came an unspoken message of finality … and it was not lost on this bright little girl.
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