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

Saturday, January 19, 2013

Nap time

yesterday we phased out naps, because Jaedyn is getting to be a big girl who does not need them anymore. Today at lunch time, when I was working, I overheard this converstaion:
J - ( trying to negotiate instead of throwing a fit) Can I do (whatever) after my nap?
S - Oh, you don't need a nap anymore, you are a big girl now. No naps for you!
J - But I'm TIRED! Please can I have a nap?
S - Sorry, you're a big girl now.
J - But I'm tired...Can I have a nap today?
S - Oh, okay if you really need one
J -  (puts herself to bed)
She "slept" for 10 minutes and then had to stay awake all day. Bed time has been so much easire now.