Book Report

We all remember book reports, don't we. You read a book. You tell others what the book was about.
To make a long story short - I had to run Justin to the doctor for hives. My dad came over to watch the girls. I left the girls with a book to read and the promise that when I returned I would ask them for an oral report (of sorts) on what they read.

1 hour later
We return from the doctor (Benadryl in hand). Dad is reading a magazine, Eden is reading her book, Karis is M.I.A.
I inquire. "Where's Karis?"
Dad says, "Well - she's up in her room stringing up some contraption with ropes, string, hangers, mops and boxes."

Aaarrrrrghhhhhh....
I let my impulses get the best of me. Book in hand I stormed into her room and accussed her of not following my directions. (I really need to watch those impulses - think Robin, think before you act.)
Karis looked a little dejected.

I picked up the book and said (in stern-mom voice), "Did you even pick up the book?"
Sheepish response, "Yes, mom."
I started to page through in order to find something to quiz her on when I came upon this:

I paused.
I looked around.

She HAD read the book. She got it. She knew what she read. She did follow directions.
This may be one of the most creative book reports ever given.

And, with the recognition that I'm sounding like a broken record, I reminded myself that not all children learn the same way. There is no mold. There is not one way to give a report.

I also gave myself a firm reminder to keep my impulses in check. To be more gracious. To expect the best, not the worst. To respect my children. To show more love.