Daleth?

We missed the sunrise this morning! Sad to say, the old knee was a ripe excuse for not tending to the weeds of sullenness cropping up in my kindergarten. I did cajole my sonny-boy to a small volley in the yard, with some yielded accomplishment. Perhaps, he'll finally "feel" the backhand grip.
Dancing with my little wolflings is a hard task. They were howling at the full moon, last night and made a tent in the loft to howl together. This made them slow at rising with the dawns. I will have to implement bunny schedules of bed time for them to get the hang of rising and taking the sun at the top of its toss!

I cannot seem to drill into their heads the importance of closing the gate behind them at the tennis courts! The balls roll out and we have to run after them and I am frustrated beyond words that they can't see that. Those were the types of things that my dad didn't even use words to tell us. If you didn't understand the look or severe glance, a forehand to the back of the head would do... They don't get it yet. It saves time, it saves steps, chasing the balls. I have to pull out my "Book of Virtues" He had a poem somewhere in there about some Gore boy who never closed doors.

Mrs. Bluejay, here and there flits about as if to tempt me to show off more in front of my children..."Show off your wing feathers" she says everyday to me. "They can't see their own wing feathers until they are flying, so show them yours" OK, I said, I will.