From Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale

People disappear when they die. Their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living mempry of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continut to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humour, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.

--Diane Setterfield



Thursday, April 15, 2010

Nap Time

I need more.

Dylan is having a hard time with going to sleep for naps... so I've come up with a creative solution. We run laps around the house until she is tired. I run with her, but she still thinks it's a punishment... hopefully that will change soon. I am not punishing, just ensuring that she will go to sleep. Jaedyn tried it today. We also switched it up and ran the other direction. It' was more fun I think. At least there were less tears.

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