The book that lived

Tuesday morning, Nicole went to teach P.E. at Coe and Lydia went with her, about a half hour early. The boys went along later at the usual time. I don't know how Lydia spent the time. I made Rachel cinnamon toast, a staple from my childhood, though I could not tell you how often I ate it. She ate hers, but claimed to like it less than the cinnamon swirl bread that she's been eating since Idaho. She walked to Ken's this evening just to get more.

I drove Rachel and Flavia to school, then returned the car to the house and walked to my office, halfway between. Traffic was worse than usual, but I don't know why. I could have paid to park at the office, but then Nicole would not have been able to drive the Coe kids to Spanish nor unnecessarily go to Hamilton for pick-up. She was waiting at the school, napping after a long day of guest teaching, when Paola knocked on the window. It was not Nicole's day to be there. She brought Rachel and picked me up from my office. I was done with my many meetings by then.

I've been threatening (from their perspective) to read Harry Potter to the boys for a while, now, and tonight I finally made good. Eric fell asleep, but Colin made it through the first chapter. He was paying enough attention to identify Dumbledore before he was named. I can't be sure we'll stick with it, but we'll see. There are 198 chapters in all.

In other reading news, I failed to start the next French chapter, but I did finish The Silver Branch. Like it's predecessor it has an unremarkable plot, but was a very pleasant read. I'll be sure to finish the series one of these days, but not right away, I think. The books take place hundreds of years apart, so that seems appropriate. I haven't convinced any children to read them yet, but there's no rush.