At the moment of crisis you will assassinate panic and find quiet valor. (week 2 of life in a pandemic for a 12-year old).

The snippets of joy that skitter through shadows and sunlight.

There may be families that are getting through this pandemic without occasionally - or frequently - wondering around in some combination of diaper, underwear, and/or shirtlessness. Those families may exist, and I pity them.

A pandemic at 12 years old.

Twelve-year old girl reading Ezra Jack Keats' "The Snowy Day" to her three-year old brother on the couch.

Somewhere on this earth, there might be two twelve-year old girls who read the Caldecott-winning The Little Island to their three-year old brother this week. I would like to know where the other duo is, as our household has in its possession the other pair. They snuggled mightily and my heart went to 350.

People complain about the work ethic of every generation coming up behind them. I decided when I was around ten that I wasn’t going to someday be an adult who complained about the way kids did things. And when I look at our daughter, 12 years old and frighteningly able to out-logic and out-wit on an ever-increasing basis…I get nervous. Nervous-proud. Nervous-proud-happy.

This kid jumps in and helps; she helped haul brush a good chunk of Sunday with no cajoling, pleading, or mandating. She just did it. Jumped in and helped. I’m sensitive to publicizing the triumphs and feats of our children, whatever and whenever they may be; I am loathe to parade those things out for many reasons. One of those reasons is just giving the opportunity for them to push themselves to improve because…because.

Because of an internal drive, a need to excel and and to improve and give your best. Not because your worth, value, or received affection will be greater. Just because you learn and know what you’re capable of and what you can offer and share with the world…and you do it. And she does it. I don’t need to post grades or test scores or athletic feats or creative accomplishments or any of that.

I am proud, and I feel the need to share that pride, of the fact that she jumps in. She gives her skills and she dives into life. I love that. So much. I want to be smart enough, wise enough, to remember that there is no generation, no age that I cannot learn something valuable from. Humility is becoming a lost art and science.

There is a game called Racket.

I actually don’t know what it’s called. It’s a little like lacrosse, only it’s plastic scoop racquets with a waffle-ball that you toss around. Our older ones have invented a couple games, and I cannot think of ten dollars better spent. I often jump in to play the winner, and find myself with a bronze medal at the end. Highly recommend.

”It seems like we’re been eating really good the last week or so,” she said.

”Yep,” I said. “That’s because your mom has been doing all the cooking.

“Well, it’s really good,” she said.

Yeah.

____

The reading, the piles of books, the blissful aura of someone absorbed in a story. I love it.

A blog started, a blog continued. It’s easy to start one. It’s harder to keep up. She has.

There is something beautiful about seeing two siblings, side by side, with cracked-open MacBook Pros, writing on their blogs. And their respective laptops: eight- and nine-years old, resuscitated and kept alive over the years, including one that was headed to the elephant-dinosaur graveyard before I brought it back to life. #techbrag

There is something about one-on-one time. When you have multiple kids, it can be hard to find. Finally, I decided to take matters into my own hands: Get out of bed, I ordered. Get out now! She slowly shuffled out, and I demanded that she snuggle me while we watched World War Z. Loved the book; although the 2013 film has trouble covering all the epic ground of the novel, it is filled with scenes that feel necessary, as opposed to hopscotching around the globe just to go from one obstacle to another in which the ending feels inevitable (a feeling I had with the much different and far-inferior Da Vinci Code). Filled with action, suspense, and Brad Pitt in one of my favorite roles; “…that is how you need respond when things are falling apart around you,” I said. I find him believable in this film. Cool-headed, but a great portrayal of a hero that feels real; like there is something to be learned about how to still make good decisions under duress. “Are you going to have trouble sleeping?” I asked. She turned to me with a giant grin: “No.”

It was a moment, two hours of moments that I treasured, and of the three times I’ve seen it…by far my fave. No idea why.