Little House, Big Lessons

Social distancing wears on and I’ve been looking for new ways to entertain myself and my boys. As I was cleaning my bookshelf I came across the box set of my favorite books from 4th grade, Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House series. I managed to convince my boys to let me read a couple chapters to them every evening before bed rather than watching another lame YouTube video. They were only slightly convinced this was a good idea, but they played along, mostly because they decided they could take the Accelerated Reader test when we finished and pad their goals for the trimester.

Then the first chapter of the first book, Little House in the Big Woods, was all about hunting game, butchering, and smoking meats. They were immediately hooked. Never mind that the main character is a young girl, that they have yet to realize was quite the tom boy, learning all about surviving as settlers in the late 1800’s had them hanging on every word.

Over the course of the last few nights we’ve laughed at some of Pa’s stories, reinforced a lesson about crying wolf that Harry had earlier this week, and learned about early agricultural machinery. My guys couldn’t believe that Laura was 7 before she had been to a town or set foot in a store or even saw a large body of water. And even though our current quarantine situation has them missing many of the things they love, reading about children who only got an occasional piece of candy and found pig’s tail to be a great treat, helped them see how fortunate they are.

And even though I’ve read these books several times—the 35-year-old bindings are starting to fall apart—Laura was still able to sneak a timely lesson in there for me too.

As we finished “Little House in the Big Woods” this evening Laura’s astute observation hit home for how I’ve been feeling about quarantining with my little family. As she’s snuggled in bed listening to Pa and watching Ma she realizes that in that moment, “This is now.” 

These days, everything seems uncertain and constantly changing, I frequently think about not wanting to forget these moments with my guys, wanting to remember this feeling of closeness during this great pause we’ve all been forced into. But when I block away the news, the fears, the pressures from the outside world, all that matters is the now. And the now, of being with my boys, sharing literature that helped shape who I am, is a pretty great now.

Thanks, Laura and Ma and Pa and Mary and Baby Carrie, for the reminder that, “now is now.”