What are these cars doing parked in the middle of a field? This is how you get to J's soccer practice. That's right, there's nothing as prosaic as a road, you have to drive accross a bumpy field to get to practice. My minivan doesn't even make it. That's Coupeville! Below is a photo of the girls playing on a pile of manure and dirt during J's practice.

Me: "G! O! You're getting filthy!"

Both girls, in unison: "So?"

Not much I can say to that, really. J doesn't really care for his new soccer coaches, because they're "just too nice, mom. I'm not sure I'll be able to learn as much if they're not yelling at me like my old coach." Not much I can say to that, either, I guess.

Today I volunteered in J's classroom, and it was fifth grade math. The teacher gave the kids some problems, then said, "If you have any trouble, raise your hand, and J's mom will help you." Crap! I was in trouble. Luckily, J helped me. I would secretly look on his paper for the answers and the way to do the problem, then act like I knew exactly what I was doing. I kept looking longingly at H's kindergarten class, happily planting seeds in their garden outside J's window.

Speaking of dirt, the girls' preschool teacher filled the sensory table with dirt and dozens of earthworms today. The kids had a blast digging and playing with worms. Gross, but cool. Guess who the only two kids were who refused to touch the worms with their bare hands. To this day, not one of my children has ever enjoyed worms. Even H doesn't like worms. What's up with that?