I've mentioned previously what a big deal the Olympics always are around here. I've told you about the map work, the "student newspapers", the timelines, the totally awesome lesson plans.
But I may have never mentioned a few things, things mostly of Christian's creation, though Michael and Patrick certainly were creative consultants. There were endless games of hockey in our finished basement, boys fashioning pucks and sticks of masking tape and cardboard. There was "ski jumping" off my bed when I was too snowed under by all-day-and-night morning sickness to protest. And there was a luge contest using pillows down the back stairs. (You thought I didn't know about that one, didn't you, boys?)
There was something else. Night after night of family dinners that more often than not were like an evening in a comedy club. One boy after the other trying to one-up the previous joke. Dad leading the way...
Poor Nicholas was bereft yesterday. "This Olympics is no fun. There is no one to play basement hockey. Can I please try to sled down the front staircase? It used to be way more fun..."
He should have gone to work with Michael.