• Sigrid Ellis

  • Bio

    Sigrid Ellis is co-editor of the Hugo-nominated Queers Dig Time Lords and Chicks Dig Comics anthologies. She edits the best-selling Pretty Deadly from Image Comics. She is the flash-fiction editor of Queers Destroy Science Fiction, from Lightspeed Press. She edited the Hugo-nominated Apex Magazine for 2014. She lives with her partner, their two homeschooled children, her partner’s boyfriend, and a host of vertebrate and invertebrate pets in Saint Paul, MN.
  • Recent Posts

  • Meta

  • Calendar

    September 2009
    S M T W T F S
    « Aug   Oct »
  • Advertisements

Quiet Thursday afternoon

I ought to be hauling That Stuff I can see from where I’m sitting down the stairs and put it all away in the basement. But I’ll blog first because, you know, that’s just how I roll.

M is out at a friend’s house for a playdate. He walked there himself, which was great. In case anyone has missed it, I am a firm believer and participant in the Free Range Kids ethos. I think kids learn to become confident, competent adults by mastering their world in age-appropriate ways. I do not think the world has become more dangerous since I was a kid. I do not agree that sexual predators, or another other kind of predator save mosquitos, are a realistic threat to my kids. I believe that cars are the most dangerous thing in my neighborhood, that dirt is good for you, that cough medicine is a placebo, and that kids fall asleep best when left alone in a dim room without any parent, music, or food.

Hence letting M walk to the neighbor’s house alone.

K has been walking to her neighborhood playdates alone for at least six months, probably longer. She learned to look both ways while crossing streets and alleys EVERY TIME much earlier than M. I peered out the window as M approached the street. He looked both ways about sixty-three times, ostentatiously, before inching out past the parked cars, looking again, and carefully crossing. He has a friend now, you understand, who he really likes. Who lives one street-crossing away and up about three blocks. He wants to earn the privilege of visiting on his own, independently, without relying on parental willingness to escort. He’s been working hard all summer and today he’s passed the first test of his new resolve.

K is at the neighbor’s, I can hear her next door, whooping.

J is napping before work. N is upstairs in his new office, at work. I occasionally hear his voice through the ceiling as he talks to his coworkers. The dogs are all snoring.

My house is quiet. It’s very, very strange.

Tonight the gang is coming over for Beatles Rock Band. While J and I were cleaning out the kitchen (so N can fit some of his stuff in it) I found two bottles of wine. Perhaps Abbey Road makes more sense with wine? We might test this theory later.

Alright, enough stalling. The butcher-block table under the windows is covered with a host of small items to be taken down to storage. I think I’ll get going on that, in the quiet and stillness of the sleepy late-summer house.