k1 p1, yo, k2tog, cast off  Riley is learning a third language, knitting notation.   Her knitting has taken a big leap forward into multidimensionality.  She is thinking, as she knits, designing spontaneously on three planes.  Which is some hard core geometry, though she doesn't know that term.  She is learning new stitches and now, usually, has more than one project on different needles concurrently.   She spends a lot of time, each day, listening to books on tape in her room and knitting or felting or quilting or drawing or writing.

Henry's guitar is also taking huge leaps forward.  I hear Cobain, I hear Young, I hear music.  I love hearing the music.  He's studying once a week with a former Pressure Boy, a really good teacher.  And its gratifying to me that he's under the care and guidance of someone who so deeply understands Henry's genre.  He told Henry, "Crank up your amp and then play really quietly.  Its good for your tone control."

The level of maturity around here is kind of breathtaking.   Riley asked if we could please not go out today.  All we had planned was a big grocery store run.  I was delighted to put that off.  But I said I didn't have anything to feed her for lunch.  She walked into the kitchen, surveyed the larder, and said she and Henry would cook lunch.  That was coolio with me.  So I went upstairs to read.  When I came back down an hour later, they had made pancakes, eaten, cleaned the kitchen.  And emptied the dishwasher just because they noticed it needed emptying.

Two days ago they decided to go take care of our neighbor's cats before breakfast.  They wanted to get their work done and not have to hurry through their meal.   I was up to my elbows in scone dough and dirty kitchen.  So I told them to go get started at the neighbors house, down the street, with the really difficult front door lock, in an empty house, all alone, and I would come right behind them and "help."   They left, and due to the laws of quantum-no-kids-in-the-area-physics, I managed to get about forty thousand things done in 15 minutes.  I carefully watched the clock so I wouldn't leave them waiting for me in the grass on the front lawn too long.  Since I knew they would not be able to get the lock open nor the courage to walk in an empty house.   Exactly 15 minutes later I dried my hands, reached for my keys, and bumped into the children walking back in the kitchen door.  They were done.  Done?!  Done.   They've gone alone every morning and evening since.  So I served them hot breakfast.  And they served me a whompful of wonderment.

My kids are growing up.  I'll just keep saying that here.  Maybe it will eventually sink in.