Toddlers and Scholars

We found a frog in our yard this afternoon. Andrew was actually the one who really liked it–though that’s a little hard to tell from his expression.

We have really pretty irises in our front yard:

Andrew likes his friend Nico:

Benjamin is cute:

We’re really enjoying the nice weather and opportunities to do things outside. We’ve taken several walks and jogs to campus this week. A&J really like the lion ornaments outside one of the dorms:

Last night we took a short hike with friends from church.

All 3 boys are facing forward in the backseat of the car now, thanks to A&J’s new booster seats.

–Lisa

Parenting tip: Before your next dinner at home with young children, fire up Pandora, create a new station for “Enya,” crank the volume, and sit back to enjoy the most relaxing meal in years.

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Take a look at this piece over at the New Republic that surveys the changing landscape of the intellectual-political Right. If, with a gun to my head, I had to choose one of the camps, it would easily be the localist, communitarian option described below:

And that leaves a final group of conservative writers–most of them younger and more intellectually interesting and eclectic, and for that reason much less politically consequential, than anyone listed above. I’m thinking of people like Conor Friedersdorf, John Schwenkler, Peter Suderman, Daniel Larison, Patrick Deneen, Jeremy Beer, my friends Russell Arben Fox and Noah Millman, and my old sparring-partner on same-sex marriage, “Crunchy Con” journalist Rod Dreher. Some of these writers (all of them primarily bloggers) can be found at The American Scene, while others contribute essays to Front Porch Republic and blog for the website of the American Conservative. The more moderate ones (Friedersdorf, Schwenkler, Suderman, Millman) are similar in temperament and outlook to Frum, Brooks, and Douthat, though they tend to be more philosophical and less policy-oriented in approach. Meanwhile, the more radical ones (Larison, Deneen) are downright anti-modern in outlook. Delighted by Christopher Lasch’s indictment of the free market, enamored of Wendell Berry’s poetic agrarianism, romantically drawn toward “localism,” titillated by Alasdair MacIntyre’s praise of monasticism as an option for those seeking refuge from the moral impurities of modernity, open to radical environmentalism, hostile toward an idealistic foreign policy, disgusted at the overall tone of life in America since sexual revolution–these writers are interesting in the way all reactionaries are interesting: as a provocation to deep thinking, and as a warning about the (political and intellectual) dangers of indeterminate negation.

We’re having a very happy Memorial Day at our house. My not having to work means that our house is way cleaner than it usually is–which makes everyone happy. Plus the boys have been amazingly good at getting along and entertaining themselves today.

All this cooperation and good will is not a coincidence. I have discovered the secret to keeping everybody happy, mellow, and cooperative: Benadryl. Before you get all worked up about my parenting, you should know that there is a legitimate medical reason for the Benadryl.

Over the past few days Jonathan has developed a red, puffy rash around his eyes. It hasn’t seemed to bother him much except that he’s not sure why “my face is pink.” It got bad enough yesterday morning that David took him to our wonderful pediatrician’s office which has regular weekend hours. There isn’t a specific verdict, but the most likely culprit is some sort of plant that he came in contact with during a walk around the ND lake on Thursday morning.

I expected him to be too doped up to do anything but sit on the couch. He did some of that yesterday and this morning, but overall he just seems a little easier going. And Andrew sort of follows his lead. Or maybe senses that something isn’t quite right and he should be a little nicer.

So they did some fishing:

had their own storytime (that’s Jonathan making up an elaborate story about an elephant–which isn’t even in the book that he’s pretending to read):

Drank water on the couch (!):

and now they’re sleeping.