It is Tuesday.

My post titles just keep getting more creative, no?

Josh is night-flying tonight, so I shall make an attempt to rejoin the bloggy world.

When he flies nights, he doesn't go in to work until the afternoon, so I was spoiled once again with a sleep-in morning.
Sometimes I wonder how I managed to snag such a good husband-- though he probably wont be home till 2am or later, he let me sleep in.

Sleeping in is going to be very high on my list of things that I will miss while he's away.

(Don't worry, I'll give him the honors tomorrow since he's working so late.)

Some folks have asked me when Josh will be leaving, since I allude to it so frequently can't stop writing about it all the dang time.

Well, I could tell you.

But then I'd have to kill you.

Ha.
Kidding.

I actually don't know.

But if I did know, I still couldn't tell you.
At least, not on the internet.
Or the telephone.

So if I knew, and we were standing face to face, and you knew Morse code, and I knew Morse code, I could tap it out for you.

The military does not believe it is very important for folks to have little 'ol things like dates. Because surely we have no life to plan things around.

(This is actually true for me. Until I met some friends for dinner tonight, I hadn't left the house since Saturday. Except to walk to the pool, of course. Think of all the gas money I've been saving. Also, all the social situations I've avoided. Being a hermit is the next big thing. I'm a trend setter, wait and see.)

So I don't know exactly when Josh will be leaving, but the good news is that we'll be able to have Thanksgiving dinner together.
(On August 19th.)

Since the squadron will be gone for the real Thanksgiving, one of the wives has arranged a squadron "Thanksgiving in August." We'll do it potluck style at place on base.
Complete with bouncy houses, and babysitters to help keep an eye on the many, many, MANY young children that come with the territory of a fighter squadron. (I'm not sure what the average age of a fighter pilot is, but Josh is now one of the "old guys" if that puts it in perspective.)

In other news, Charlotte took on a huge beetle yesterday, and kept us entertained for hours while she fought this bug.

 Creepy.
 That beetle was waving it's legs around trying to break out of her web of death, but Charlotte just kept wrapping it up until the poor beetle was unable to move any more.

Then she ate it.

I pulled out my big homeschooling notebook and marked Science-- check.

School is going pretty well. Alex is especially enjoying the ready-aloud books and is improving with her reading as well.

Derek is getting used to spending some time playing on his own. I've bought him a few pre-K workbooks to do while Alex and I are working together. He refers to them as doing his "spelling words" despite no spelling being involved. 

Also, when he does letter sounds he says things like "B. Buh, Buh, CAR."  Not quite, son.

He has a birthday coming up (sniffle, sniffle. ah, heck-- ugly cry.) and I've done my best to get him gifts that will serve to keep him occupied independently.

Of course, I'm just fooling myself, because the boy has to show me every letter he traces, and every teeny tiny ball he makes out of play-doh.
But a girl can dream, no?

One of the things he's getting is a connecting-model-making-type-toy called Zoob.
I'd never heard of it, but it came highly recommended so I guess we'll see how he likes it.
The name makes me laugh. You know some guy came up with it.
He made a product, couldn't think of a name, and said "heh. let's call 'em zoobs. cause it sounds like boobs."

I could be wrong, of course, but I'm probably going to chuckle to myself every time I tell my son to play with his zoobs.

Acting like a ten year old boy is one of my many talents.
Remember the evening of my armpit noise?

I rest my case.