Holiday round-up

The Clappers came for Thanksgiving...

And the Texas Rausers came for early Christmas...

And the then Pennsylvania Rauser-Clappers had a quiet and relaxing holiday. Wait-- who am I kidding?!?! There're a 6-year-old and a 3-year-old residing here. Christmas was a high-stakes affair. Henry in particular seemed consumed with anxiety for much of December, with a quite-visible internal struggle alternately to express and to master his strong desires for stuff. I decorated our stairwell with garland and dangling Advent presents on little ribbons. It was so pretty, but I'm not sure if it added any daily joy or wonder to our household. As Michael put it: "Advent presents: Something to fight about every SINGLE day." On Christmas Eve, Henry rehearsed how it would go the next morning: he'd stay in bed till 6 am, then come into bed with Mom and Dad, and wait till Agatha woke up, then we'd open our stocking presents, then we'd have oatmeal and "do our morning routine," then we could open one gift every hour till they were gone. This idea was another of his strategies to demonstrate his control over this crazy holiday, when all normal rules seem to be suspended. (We didn't, of course, do this; we opened all our presents right away like normal people.)

We did have a very nice holiday, season, though, high-strung children's occasional tantrums aside. We had many lovely invitations to parties and dinners with friends. We got beautiful, thoughtful gifts in the mail from Tim & Kirsti, Grace & Jim, and our dear friends Eric & Meg. On Christmas Eve, I made a special midday meal of chicken, sweet potatoes, and this amazing French pastry (the Paris-Brest!), and then in the evening we had pate and cheese at Mom's house by the fire. On Christmas Day we ate turkey and stuffing at Mom's house. We did LOTS of crafting, including a whole village of five gingerbread houses. (Then at a family New Year's Eve party last night, the hosts gifted us with MORE gingerbread house kits! I think seven houses is enough for one season, don't you? I have gotten pretty good with the pastry bag, though.)

Quiet wonder and peaceful reflection are not the way to celebrate Christmas with little children. But as I said to Michael on Christmas Eve, after we'd tucked in the kids and I'd stuffed their stockings and put Agatha's new scooter under the tree: truly, happiness is being the parent of a 6 year old and a 3 year old on Christmas Eve. It is a great joy to provide for them, to create sparks of amazement and pleasure, to feed their imaginations and cause them to think about hope, surprise, and light amid the darkness. We are so greatly blessed to have one another, and we celebrated that these past few weeks, as we try to every day.

Report Card

Last week we got Henry's first report card-- our first-ever as parents. First, the degree and specificity of feedback was amazing. There were eight categories (literacy, writing, science, art, music, PE, etc) and within each category, there were between six and fifteen individual grades, on a 1 to 4 scale. There's always something deeply fascinating about hearing about your child from someone else. At our teacher conferences in the past, I've always been starved for information and evaluation of my child, just to have an outsider's perspective. I don't know many children intimately, so my two define the norm for me. Preschool feedback generally seemed diplomatic and bland, and so I didn't get a strong sense of perspective-adjustment from that. If you had asked me to evaluate Henry's strengths and weaknesses, I would have said he's very physical and sporty, he's smart, and he's not too musical or interested in art. (One thing I do remember his toddler teacher saying, when he was two, is that he enjoyed all the activities in the classroom except painting. She was surprised to learn that his father was a painter!)

Now, for the first time, someone-- many people, actually, since each different specialty subject has a different teacher-- has graded my child's performance and abilities. And what do you think he's good at, at least right now? Well, overall he is doing very, very well, and we're very proud of him. But his strongest special subjects (outside reading and math) were music and art. He got high marks for accuracy in singing (have they heard the tuneless renditions of 'This Land Is Your Land' I get every day?!?), and special praise from the art teacher. They also do art projects in the regular classroom, and his regular teachers noted his careful, precise work as well. His two worst subjects, on average? Science and PE. In PE, he's not so good at the throwing and kicking skills. And the only item for which he received a "1" (which basically indicates complete cluelessness) was in the science category: drawing a conclusion from evidence.

Oh, the shame!

On reflection, of course, this makes perfect sense: while we have a crafts table in the living room, permanently stocked with art supplies, Henry is not enrolled in any organized sports. Of course he's good at art; our norm for artsiness is just probably far outside the social norm. (The failure at drawing scientific conclusions is harder to explain away; you can bet I'm ordering a science kit for Christmas!) Despite our sturdiest self-delusions, then, we are raising not a sporty polymath with a sharp analytical mind, but a little clone of ourselves: artsy, craftsy, very fit but not skilled at any team sport, creative and a good leader but not so good at observing the facts of the natural world, and a little high-strung with a tendency toward perfectionism.

Whose report card was this, anyway?

Oy yoy YOY yoy yoy

Those of you who knew Ruth Rauser will recognize the title of this post!
Mommy feels a bit under siege. This is so both at work and at home. Despite my complete and utter reasonableness, people are not doing what I want. Imagine! Wherever I turn, people small and large, seem to be standing in front of me with their hands balled up in fists, on their hips, saying, "No!"

After a blissful fall of sibling love and cooperative play, we've entered a new phase-- I hope short-lived-- of constant bickering. They are both at fault-- Henry baiting his sister or instantly coveting and taking over whatever she's playing with, and Agatha, less subtly, just screaming at the top of her lungs or pounding her fists on his back when she thinks I'm not looking. Sniffles make it worse, because people are sick and grumpy. Tuesdays are hard, because Agatha stays till 3 pm at school those two days and thus does not nap. By 6 pm tonight (a Tuesday), I had had it. It was bedtime.

Agatha protested. "I'm hungry!" (We had just eaten lentil soup, salad, and bread.) This is a common stalling tactic, and we've developed an accommodation where I bring her a small bowl of nuts and dates in bed, which she eats while we read a story. It's just naughty enough to make her feel like she's had a victory. But tonight when I did that, her tantrum just continued. "This is NOT what I want!" After unsuccessfully trying to talk with her, I left the room and returned the bowl to the kitchen. She followed me, screaming and crying.
"You did NOT bring me what I wanted!"
"What did you want?" I asked in a neutral (I hoped) tone.
"I'm only going to say it ONE TIME. I said it ONE TIME, and you didn't bring it to me!"
This went back and forth for a while. Finally, she admitted, "I don't KNOW what I want!"
"We can continue to talk about food for two more minutes, and then it'll be bedtime," I said. "If you'd like to request any food, now is the time."
"I want YOU to tell ME what I want!"
"Okay!" I said brightly, "you want... some walnuts!"
"No, cashews!"
"We don't have any cashews. We have walnuts."
"Okay, walnuts!"
"I'll bring them."
"No! I don't just want ONE THING."
"How many things do you want?"
"I want SEVENTY-EIGHT things!" (78 is her favorite number. This afternoon she asked me how many fingers she was holding up. Although I answered three, the correct answer was 78.)
"I don't have 78 things. I have dried cherries, though!"
"YES, dried cherries! AND... a prune!"
"Okay!" I answered. "Walnuts, dried cherries, and a prune!"
"AND... a fig!"
"All right, four things: walnuts, dried cherries, a prune, and a fig."
I think everyone needs a vacation.

Jerome the Gnome

 Tiny books written by Jerome the Gnome, with a tiny folder to put them in

Yesterday after school Henry was full of gnome lore. A few weeks ago, his class went on a field trip to "Gnome Countryside," which sounded kind of lame to me but is apparently a major touchstone for the kindergarten experience. He was thrilled by the little folders left behind by the gnomes that were the same design as the ones they themselves use in their writing workshop! It seems that the gnomes also inhabit their classroom. Henry said sometimes their little toolboxes are left in the class, with tiny pencils in them. I grew fascinated, in spite of myself. Pretty soon Henry had installed himself at the craft table and was making a gnome's writing folder for a certain gnome: Jerome the Gnome. The folder has a "green light" side for works in progress and a "red light" side for finished works. He made a tiny alphabet chart with a tiny picture illustrating each letter. And then he wrote books-- miniaturized versions of the books they compose at school, with the same page design. But these were books from Jerome's perspective. The first one was "Gnome Countryside," which told the tale of how the gnomes heard a lot of noise and hid in their house-- hiding out from the marauding kindergarteners outside.  The second one was "Writing, by Jerome," which showed the gnome at his writing workshop, writing a story. It was a boy writing a gnome's book about a gnome writing a gnome book. The next Don deLillo?

October celebrations

At a friend's farm in southern Lancaster County...

How many kindergartners can fit in a tree?

Happy birthday, Michael!

BIG, dead tree came down this week.

Visit from Grace and Jim all the way from California!

Two pictures from the past month

For his birthday, Henry chose several adventures instead of a birthday party. He had a friend sleep over, went to the park on his own with his big neighbor friend, went to a baseball game, and went to the Renaissance Faire with his dad. Here he is, posing with a giant wooden weapon.

A New Blogging Routine

Hello, loyal blog readers...
Times have changed. I no longer have perplexing little babies that I need to vent about every day. I've thought about bringing the blog to an end, but decided that I do love having a place to write about our family life on a semi-regular basis. So my new routine will be to blog once a month or so, to keep a record and some contact with my far-away loved ones about our daily lives.

So here are some reflections on the last month.
It's a new era! Henry is in school five days a week, all day, and although we expected him to be exhausted after school, he really isn't. He is absolutely thriving. I don't know that I've ever seen him so happy. He is singing, laughing, and cuddling with us more than ever. He gets up and puts his uniform on right away in the mornings (sometimes even on Sunday). He scooters a mile to school and back (usually) without complaint. He is reading voraciously, every street sign and poster and t-shirt he sees. We are so, so pleased to see him blossom like this, and although it could just be a developmental phase or coincidence, we do correlate it with his new school. One thing that has surprised me about the new school is the air of innocence there. I used to hear all about Transformers and superheroes; I even spoke with the teachers at his old school about it when he was three-- their philosophy was all peace and love! and yet all the playground talk was war and materialism. They shrugged and told me there was nothing for it. Yet now I don't hear anything about TV shows or new brands of processed treats. Instead, an example: Henry brought home the classroom teddy bear, Paddington, for the weekend last Thursday. Each child gets a turn; he came with his own blankets and changes of clothes, and a journal for us to write in about what we did with Paddington over the weekend. Henry tenderly carried him along to the store and out to lunch, and slept with him in his bed, and proudly wrote all about it in the journal to share on Monday. Interestingly, at the shoe store he left Paddington in the car, saying he didn't want the kids in the store to make fun of him. But clearly, school is a safe place for boys to love bears, even if the wider world isn't. I wonder if this atmosphere of innocence and love isn't contributing to the greater open-heartedness, laughter, and cuddliness we see in him.

Agatha is also in school until 3 pm on two days; the other three we pick her up at 11:30 am (trading off between Michael and me). For me, it's a perfect schedule, perhaps the best schedule in the six years that I've been a mom; I have long days in the office on Monday and Friday (usually), till 3 pm on Tuesday, and home with my girl on Wednesday and Thursday afternoons. I love the days when I realize hours have gone by and I have not thought of my children; and I also love the days when I can read Agatha her story for naptime and start dinner at 3 pm if I want to. I realize I am very, very fortunate.

Speaking of dinner, the other significant change in routine in the last month has been in our eating schedule. I went to an Ayurveda workshop a few weeks ago, mainly to support my friend who was giving it. But I came away with the vow to, as is customary in so many cultures, make lunch the main meal of the day as often as possible. On the weekends, we try to cook and eat the main meal before naptime. During the week, I pack the children large, healthy lunches when they're eating at school, and do the same for myself. Michael and I eat together on campus one day a week, and another day we pick up Agatha and take her out for Indian food lunch buffet. Even when it's a weekday and just Agatha and I are eating lunch at home, I try to make a nice meal and sit down to eat together (today it was a cheese omelet, arugula salad, bread, and a glass of local beer!). I still cook dinner in the evenings, but the pressure is off. Sometimes we have leftovers, sometimes I feed the children first and just eat lightly after they're in bed, sometimes we eat a "normal" dinner but because we are not all starving (and because I have decided that the family dinner is NOT the most important meal of the day) it is less stressful than it used to be. Lots of days I feed the children right after school, when they want to eat, instead of making them "wait for dinner." Then we might have a smoothie or fruit before bed, if they're hungry again. Whatever the supper plan, we try to eat early, by 5 pm. I sleep so much better, have more energy, and find the end of the day so much easier and more fun. I highly recommend it!

At bedtime, when I was tucking Henry in:
"Mom, turn on my light so you can look at my [lego] ship."
"That's awesome!"
"Do you like it?"
"I love it!"
"Mom, do you just say you like my things because you're trying to make me happy?"
(Considering) "Well, I am biased. Because I'm your mother, I think pretty much everything you make is great. But I could try to give you a more objective opinion, if you want."
"Yes, that's what I want. I want you to tell me which ones are really good, and which ones are not. In the morning, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to separate all my ships into the ones that are awesome, the ones that are medium, and the ones that are not good."
"That's a good idea. You can use your own judgment."
"But I want your opinion too, Mom. And if we disagree about what category a ship should be in, I'll break it in half and put half of it in each category."

A Week of Big Events

You may have heard we had an earthquake and a hurricane here last week. Luckily, there is not much to report there: no damage from either event, not even much inconvenience.

Much more affecting events of last week were Henry's first day of kindergarten and Agatha's 3rd birthday. School is great and the transition has been smooth. He tells us very little about what goes on there, but when he does let something slip it sounds wonderful-- a beekeeper came to visit and explain about bees and each child got a piece of beeswax (or, as Agatha calls it, bee-whack); there was an obstacle course in gym class that involved swinging on ropes and jumping on bouncy springs; he made a picture in art class that had to incorporate a feather and a specific shape; he read a friend's book during "reading workshop"; in Spanish class if they get one more marble in their jar they get to play games all during the next class; and so on. Michael and I are taking turns accompanying Henry the one-mile ride to school on his scooter. We are among the very few who use non-petroleum-based transportation-- as a result, we are a charming novelty (so far). Today was the first that I went from home, to Henry's school, to Agatha's school, to work. The whole circuit (pushing Agatha in the stroller with Henry scootering alongside) took me about an hour and 10 minutes. I hope we can keep it up when the weather gets cold and wet. It is certainly good exercise!

First Day, coming and going

Agatha's birthday was also nice, and luckily we did not lose power because it happened at the tail end of the hurricane. Three of her small friends came over and we played, ate cake, opened presents, made some crowns, and dressed in silly outfits. Agatha and her friend Holly swanned around regally in their princess gowns, and Aggie got a spectacular castle to play with and her very own camera as presents. What a lucky girl!

Of course, the luckiest of all are Michael and me-- grateful every day for our beautiful, healthy children and the rich life we can provide them.

Big Three-Year Old Princess!

Brother and Sister

"I'm sorry. My brother's using it right now." This was Agatha to another child who wanted the shovel in a sandbox scrum the other evening. I'd never before heard her refer to Henry as "her brother" when speaking to another child. It's hard to put into words the warm and fuzzy feeling it gave me.

This has been the summer of becoming real playmates, maybe even friends. Earlier this week, they spent all afternoon building forts in Henry's room filled with pillows, blankets and stuffed animals which they were planning to sleep in. Henry chickened out at the last moment, choosing his comfy bed instead, but Agatha, undaunted, slept on the floor in his room. And did it again the next night. They took a night off last night, but this morning Michael heard Henry say, "Aggie, do you want to sleep together again tonight?"

Henry also takes responsibility for Agatha more lately. This week she's developed the habit of protesting when I (but not Michael!) drops her off at morning day camp. So on the way to camp today, Henry was instructing her in the back seat: "Now, when we get there, you don't whine or cry or say you're tired. You get out and walk in, and I'll see you later on the playground, okay? If you're tired, you should rest longer in your room, so you have good energy for camp." To which Agatha responded: "I'm tired."

Henry: "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. With the easy way, you get to walk in with me. With the hard way, you'll be crying and have to go in with the teacher. Which way do you want to do it?" Agatha: "The hard way." Henry, musingly: "I thought you were going to say the easy way." Mommy, thinking: Rookie mistake.

People have asked me if the kids will miss each other this year, not being at the same school anymore, at which I have always scoffed. But now I think they really might.

Dutch Wonderland

Back-to-back adventures

High Line Park, NYC

Looking respectable, at the Met in NYC

gorgeous boy

Klondike bar

gorgeous boy, part 2

gorgeous boy, part 3

super-Agatha, to the rescue?

The beach was great-- of course! The house was right on the beach, just over the dunes, and the water was warm, calm, and shallow (although kind of muddy). It was so comfortable, with a separate bedroom for everyone and even air conditioning and a dishwasher, and so quiet, in a tiny beach community between a huge wildlife refuge and the shore, that after a week I really wasn't ready to leave. We had visits from my mom, and from our friends Meagan and Mike and family, and the house accommodated us all, with beautiful tall windows looking out on the water and sky. Usually I'm eager to get back home, but this was the rare vacation where I could have stayed longer. We had such a nice routine of swimming in the morning, then having lunch and doing activities, crafts, or reading during the heat of the day, naptime, and then a late afternoon beach time, followed by dinner and an early bed. No media, no noise. It just felt so healthy and relaxing. When we first arrived and saw the amazing view and the beautiful house, I felt such a wave of pride that we could provide this experience for our children, and for ourselves. It's not glamorous or exotic-- just an ordinary bourgeois summer vacation-- but I loved it.

While we were there we got an email from a friend who lives in New York City, asking if we wanted to come and cat-sit for them while they were away. So we returned home (in a blistering heat wave) on Saturday; I canned 23 quarts of applesauce on Monday and Tuesday, and then we went to New York on Wednesday, staying till Saturday evening. New York was wonderful, of course, but unfortunately the kids chose that prime moment to develop stomach bugs. There were some gruesome nights. Oy! But we did what we came to do: saw the McQueen show at the Met (my former student who works there whisked us in without waiting in the hours-long line); met another former student for dinner way downtown at the seaport; even went to the Cloisters Museum uptown, where we'd never been before, and the new High Line Park. All very cool, and not particularly kid-friendly, except for the park and its excellent hipster popsicle stand. We stayed at a beautiful renovated loft in the Bronx, which felt quite friendly and safe. After a couple of days, people were greeting us like regulars. Of course, we did stand out quite a bit! Not only were we unusually pale and blond, but we were going around as a family unit, tourists, where most people were commuting to work or something. So we-- and the kids especially-- got a lot of attention, all of it positive.

As I'd noticed in May at the Philadelphia Art Museum, Henry is starting to actually enjoy (or at least, not completely hate) the museum. He lit up in the antiquities section, and we specifically took him to see the mummies, tombs, and Temple of Dendur. He recognized all the sphinxes in the antiquities, and then when we were walking past an Ingres in the 19th-century wing, he shouted "Another sphinx!" And it was-- a painting this time. And at the Cloisters (all medieval art; we sold it to the children by telling them we were going to a real castle, which it is, reassembled by Rockefeller in the 1930s) he liked finding all the "hidden" elements in the tapestries. But their tummies hurt and their tempers were short, and by Saturday afternoon we were spent. It was hard, hard work being in New York with two small, cranky people.

Frankly, I've just about had it with the family fun! Bring on the school year, please! In fact, first thing Monday morning, after our return home, I took the kids out shopping for backpacks and lunchboxes. Today, we bought Henry new shoes, and his uniforms should arrive on Friday. Just two scheduled family-fun excursions remain: tomorrow, Dutch Wonderland, and Saturday, a day trip to go canoeing and to an Amish country auction with friends (downsized from a camping trip, thank goodness). Then, it'll be two weeks of morning camp for the kids and back into the office for me! (hooray!!!)

Mid-summer update

Henry and Frances at the theater!

Frances, reading to the other children

Toddler plank pose

She's even got the fashionista pout. This is Agatha wearing my new birthday necklace from my mom. "Look, Mommy, we got a present! Let's open it! We can share it..."

An update from the depths of midsummer...

It is July, so we are all off from work and school and camp. The first couple of days we got our bearings, and now we are deep into the routine of playing around the house, doing workbooks, and having small outings. One good thing about having small kids is that the scale of outings that interest them is also small. Many days we just have a visit to the local natural history museum (walking distance), an ice cream cone (two places, each a block and a half away), and maybe a trip around the block to visit Gran. A big day will entail a longer walk to the library. We did take Henry to his first-ever live theater (indoor) performance, and that was super-duper. I've also promised a trip to the local theme park, Dutch Wonderland, sometime during the break. And tomorrow we leave for a week at the beach, our big adventure of the summer.

Agatha is potty training! It really demonstrates my own laziness; as soon as I took her diaper off and got out the potty and said we were going to use it today, she did. Hasn't had a single accident so far. Here she is having a potty party with her friend, Holly.

When we return from the beach, it will be time to can applesauce and then, soon, peaches and tomatoes! We'll have two days in New York City at the end of the month, one night camping (!) in Juniata County at the beginning of August, and then the slow return to routine will begin: two weeks of morning camp for the kids while Michael and I work on our syllabi and get things done in the office. Henry's first day of kindergarten at his new school is August 25. (I am beyond excited about it.) Agatha starts after Labor Day.

Meanwhile, I am relishing the slow pace and spending lots of time together. I can see how much sweeter we all are and how well we all get along when we are not rushing or pushing to get much of anything done. It will be a challenge to hold on to that when late August rolls around, but I resolve to try as much as possible.

Running around

Henry and his friend, Lia, at the Red Rose Run

Henry is that blue streak in the center; Michael is running alongside on the sidewalk

Agatha, "making soup"

On her own initiative, she went and got the soup cookbook, picked some clover from the yard, got out the pan and a spoon and "cooked" it, then served us some in a bowl.

Another Agatha initiative: this was her chosen outfit for camp last week.

We went up to the Berkshires for five days (no pictures; forgot the camera!) and then Michael went to Montreal for a conference. So there's been a lot of running around! In between, the kids are going to morning day-camp and I am trying to finish up an essay and a book review. By July 1, we'll all take a break for some unstructured time.

Agatha's imagination is flowering. Her imaginary friend, Coyote, has a response or reaction to everything lately. Henry's had a rough couple of days; I think the new school anxiety is finally hitting him. He's still attending his old school (for camp), but it is different-- a different set of teachers, kids, and activities. Yet he knows he'll be starting a new school in the fall. "I don't wanna go to camp! It's just too weird!" he wailed yesterday. He's grouchy and out of sorts. I've been working hard to use my "aikido parenting" inspired by my friend, an aikido master-- don't resist, blend; try to use your antagonist's energies to turn into a more beneficial direction. It is great advice and very effective, but sometimes I still get worn down! My antagonist uses a lot of force.

Al rescate, amigos!

Agatha's been watching a lot of "Diego" lately. I'm not too proud of it, but on the other hand the Netflix on demand is a pretty wonderful thing for helping Mommy get through the day! She gets to watch one in the morning when she wakes up, one after waking from naptime, and usually another one at some other critical moment. Her love of Diego has translated into her speaking some words in Spanish and concocting various schemes for rescuing animals in trouble. She loves to shout out, "al rescate, amigos!" and head off running. This morning she ran all way to her preschool, stopping only at the crosswalks. Seriously, that's seven-tenths of a mile! (or so says Google maps) The whole way she was talking about the roadrunners having a race and rescuing the pygmy marmoset and so on. But the cutest thing is to hear her count in Spanish, which she can do up to 10: "uno, dos, trays, kwat-roh..." It sounds like Scooby Doo speaking Spanish.

Speaking of numbers, Henry is learning multiplication! He brought home worksheets he'd filled out with the times 2s, 3s, and 4s ("Ones are just too easy, Mom.") At the Montessori school they use beads to calculate the multiplication and get a visual grasp on the concepts; the worksheets are just the traces of that process in the classroom. Pretty neat. Next year it looks like we will be transferring him to a high-powered, more traditional-format private school, about which we are both excited and anxious. I'm glad he's had four years to learn in this more hands-on and play-based Montessori way, but I think he's ready for more rigor and structure. We'll see.

Besides multiplication Henry is also very interested in time right now. He has a clock that speaks the current time when a button is pressed, and he has certain "favorite times" that he likes the clock to speak out to him: 7:11 is the most beloved, but also the palindromic 12:51, and the hilarious 5:55 and 4:44 and so on. He has figured out that his clock happens to be set about 3 minutes fast, so when he sees it is 7:08 in the kitchen he races upstairs to hear his clock say "seven-eleven, a.m.," which gives him great satisfaction.

bathroom spruce-up

Last week, Michael was away at Dartmouth doing work with the Maxfield Parrish archive in their library. He was actually gone for 9 full days, people! I decided to spend that week giving our tired old yellow bathroom a facelift, since we'd be out of our normal routine anyway, and I'd have to work around one fewer person. I did most of the work while the kids were at preschool in the mornings, and my mom helped out tremendously, picking them up most days and loaning me her car to go out and buy supplies. I know it doesn't look much improved in the pictures below, but you have to imagine that the walls and ceiling were peeling from old water damage, so even though it's still just white, it's much cleaner, brighter, and nicer. And above: Agatha and Henry in their double-wide "house" on the front porch. Notice the shrewd use of a structural beam above! Everyone was into home improvements last week, I guess.

BEFORE:
AFTER:

BEFORE:

AFTER: