Kindergarten

Andrew started kindergarten a couple of weeks ago and has adjusted quite nicely--better than I thought he would, anyway. Back when I was a child, kindergarten was only a half-day; now even the kindergarteners go to school all day, and Andrew goes from 8:00 a.m. until 2:45 p.m. He does, however, love his teacher, talks about how great she is, and gives her a hug every day at dismissal. He's also making friends.

But, oh--the house seems so strange when he's not here. Madeline misses him.

Malkhos and I considered homeschooling our children, and seriously thought that's what we would do. As Andrew grew older, though, we realized that structure is more suited to his personality and, living in isolation like we do, he has no neighborhood friends available. Although I am not at work anywhere near 40 hours per week (although I am considered a full-time employee), I am gone enough and, quite frankly, when I get home from lecturing for two to four hours and grading homework and essays, the last thing I want to do is teach more and grade more. And Malkhos is writing pretty well near full time right now, but that varies. It doesn't appear he'll have much spare time before the end of the year. So for now, Andrew is in school. Perhaps in the future we'll reconsider homeschooling, but he seems to be thriving where is he is.

Two minor mishaps, however--first, despite the fact he's under doctor's orders of "no running, jumping, climbing, or physical education class" until he's released from his physician's care in October (the first break occurred on a growth plate, the part of the bone that grows, and so a final set of x-rays and measurements need to be taken to ensure both legs are growing at the same rate), Andrew was indeed running last week on the playground and fell down, twisting his ankle. Thankfully, it was just a minor sprain. I don't know what I would have done if he'd broken his leg again. Second, after we'd picked him up one day, another driver at a school down the street from his pulled out of the parking lot right in front of us. Malkhos had to brake quickly and rather suddenly to avoid hitting her. Andrew is still a bit paranoid about cars.

"What did you do that for?" he demanded.

"To keep from hitting that woman," Malkhos said. "She pulled out right in front of me."

"The idiot," I volunteered.

"Well, don't do it again!" Andrew said. "You scared me and made my heart jump around."

Helen, 15 year old Widow of Joseph Smith

From a heart warming tale of Mormon life in old Nauvoo:

"I will never be sealed [i.e. in polygamous marriage] to my father, and I would never have been sealed to Joseph, had I known it was anything other than ceremony. I was young, and they deceived me, by saying the salvation of our whole family depended on it. I say again, I will never be sealed to my father; no, I will sooner be damned and go to hell, if I must. Neither will will I be selaed to Brigham Young."

The speaker is Helen Kimball, daughter of Heber Kimball, Smith's right-hand man before the rise of Young. She escaped to St. Louis and told the story to the newspapers.

Here incidently, is a vision of the same Kimball taken to 'authenticate' the revaltions to Smith:

It was the eventful night of September 22, 1827. Says Heber C. Kimball:
"I had retired to bed, when John P. Greene, who was living within a hundred steps of my house, came and waked me up, calling upon me to come out and behold the scenery in the heavens. I woke up and called my wife and Sister Fanny Young (sister to Brigham Young), who was living with us, and went out-of-doors.
It was one of the most beautiful starlight nights, so clear that we could see to pick up a pin. We looked to the eastern horizon, and beheld a white smoke arise toward the heavens; as it ascended it formed itself into a belt, and made a noise like the sound of a mighty wind, and continued southwest, forming a regular bow dipping in the western horizon. After the bow had formed, it began to widen out and grow clear and transparent, of a bluish cast; it grew wide enough to contain twelve men abreast.
In this bow and army moved, commencing from the east and marching to the west; they continued marching until they reached the western horizon. They moved in platoons, and walked so close that the rear ranks trod in the steps of their file leaders, until the whole bow was literally crowded with soldiers. We could distinctly see the muskets, bayonets and knapsacks of the men, who wore caps and feathers like those used by the American soldiers in the last war with Britain; and also saw their officers with their swords and equipage, and the clashing and jingling of their implements of war, and could discover the forms and features of the men. The most profound order existed throughout the entire army; when the foremost man stepped, every man stepped at the same time; I could hear the steps. When the front rank reached the western horizon a battle ensued, as we could distinctly hear the report of arms and the rush.
No man could judge of my feelings when I beheld that army of men, as plainly as ever I saw armies of men in the flesh; it seemed as though every hair of my head was alive. This scenery we gazed upon for hours, until it began to disappear.
After I became acquainted with Mormonisim, I learned that this took place the same evening that Joseph Smith received the records of the Book of Mormon from the angel Moroni, who had held those records in his possession.
John Young, Sen., and John P. Greene's wife, Rhoda, were also witnesses.
My wife, being frightened at what she saw, said, 'Father Young, what does all this mean?'
'Why, it's one of the signs of the coming of the Son of Man,' he replied in a lively, pleased manner.
The next night similar scenery was beheld in the west by the neighbors, representing armies of men who were engaged in battle.