Scout

Scout Finch was the best-educated kid in history because she had time to wear the knees out of her overalls.

She had time to walk everywhere in Maycomb and time to think on the back porch.

She had time to search knotholes for shiny treasures.

She had time to learn in the kitchen from dark and wise Calpurnia.

She had time to see injustice up close and time to be personal with a hard-to-reach neighbor.

She had time to become bright, intuitive and happy despite the shocking absence of chore charts, taxpayer programs and helicopter parenting.

Atticus was the best parent in history because he chose to snatch teaching moments as they came instead of playing on his iPad. And he never drove Scout to gymnastics at speeds surpassing 45 MPH through residential streets while she wharfed down a semi-nutritious dinner served on a paper towel.

We are too busy.

Yesterday I made a change. I forced RE to play in her tree house until dark. She was not allowed to practice, read, multiply, reduce, memorize etymology or become more fluent until after dark. This caused her to go to bed at 10. It was worth it.

She smelled like sweat. She gathered pond weeds and crushed them for potion spices. She washed her remnant dishes in the creek like a proper Boxcar Child. She flirted with a few boys that passed by underfoot (meaning she dumped water on them from her 1-story advantage). She raced and giggled and got muddy. She played so hard that her ponytail came out three times.

She went to bed smarter than she was a day ago.