Cal sat himself at the dining room table and let out a groan. From the kitchen, Gillian gave him a slight smile while she finished setting up dinner to go ahead and start cooking. Cal had already complained his feet were killing him when he had come in. Too much running around today. Lewis approached with a school book in one hand, pressed up against his chest; in the other was a pencil, also against his chest. "Dad?" He asked politely.
"Yes my darlin'?" Cal turned to the seven year old.
"Will you help me with my homework?" He signed an awkward 'help' while still trying to hold on to his book and pencil.
"Of course buddy, climb up here with me," Cal pushed out the chair next to the head of the table. Lewis put his book on the table and levered himself up into the seat. Cal opened the book and flicked over the pages of messy handwriting to where the next assignment had been glued in on a fresh section. "Tell me about your homework," Cal requested, while quickly scanning the page.
"We have to draw about the rain cycle," Lewis informed him, leaning over his book, his hand signing 'picture' and 'rain'.
'All right,' Cal thought. 'Easy enough.'
"What do you know about the rain cycle?" Calk asked aloud wiggling his fingers from up by his face down to his chest, mimicking rain falling. "Are you learnin' about it in class?" He spread his fingers on top of his left hand like a tepee and then grouped them together while bringing them up to his forehead to press against his skin, keeping his wrist above his fingers the whole time.
Lewis shook his head 'no'.
"All right. Let's talk about it, and then when you undastand it, you can draw a picture all right?" He used 'talk' and 'picture'.
Lewis nodded.
"So," Cal started. "Where does the rain come from?" He curled his fingers up and moved them back and forth a little.
"The clouds." Lewis made a gesture like he was holding a large ball in front of him.
"Yeah the clouds. And what is rain made from?"
Lewis thought for a moment, probably thinking it was a trick question. "Water?" He made a 'W' hand shape.
"Yeah water," Cal confirmed. "So how does the water get into the clouds?" He signed 'water' then 'up' and 'cloud'.
"Hm," Lewis mused. He sat for a while. "I don't know," he looked up at his father.
'Well at least he didn't say it flew.'
"Hang on. Get some scrap pape-a so we can write some ideas down." He mimicked writing.
Lewis swivelled his legs to the side, jumped down and headed for the pantry where there was paper kept that he could draw on or use for whatever he felt the need.
'Or say God put it there,' Cal finished in his head.
Gillian put their dinner in the oven and brushed her hand over Lewis's hair as he went by with his paper in hand. She and Cal both heard Owen on the baby monitor so she set the timer quickly and headed up to get him. Lewis climbed back onto his chair, slamming the paper down for his father against the table top.
"All right," Cal took the pencil and the paper and pulled them closer towards him. He used Lewis's school book to lean on. "So we've got clouds up here," he drew a fluffy one at the top of the paper, in the centre. "And we've got warta in there," he drew a tear drop. "So we have to figure out how the warta got up there right?" Cal drew a big arrow from the left of the page, from the middle, pointing up to the cloud. Lewis nodded. "So let's look at this side," Cal pointed to the other side of the cloud with the pencil and Lewis leaned in, then looked up at his father. "How does the warta get out of the clouds?" He moved his right hand out of the grasp of his left and away to the right a little bit.
"It rains," Lewis supplied easily, wiggling his fingers as he moved them down.
"Sure does," Cal drew another curving arrow downwards, to half way down the page, then drew lots of little rain drops. "Then where does the rain go?"
"Uhm," Lewis mused. "Into the ground?" He rubbed his finger tips against each other with the fingers pointing downward.
"Sure," Cal agreed. "Where else would it go?" Lewis's gaze went to the page but his face looked a little blank. "What else do we have on the planet besides the ground?" Cal prompted. Lots of 'wh' gestures.
"The sea?" He signed 'water' then waved both hands like gentle waves away from his body.
"Yeah," Cal agreed with a smile, impressed. "The oceans. What else is like the oceans?"
"Lakes?" He used 'water' again and then opened his hands wide as if indicating a large volume of water, his index finger and thumb extended from the rest of his grouped fingers.
"Yes! Very good!" Cal enthused. He drew another arrow curving further down to the bottom of the circle he was making, right in the centre of the page. He drew something like a big puddle. "What about riva's?" Cal also suggested. Lewis nodded his agreement and Cal added one to the side of his 'sea' and explained that the rivers fed lakes and oceans so they were part of the cycle too. "All right. So we've got most of the circle," Cal showed Lewis, who agreed. "So now we have to get the warta from here," he pointed to his puddle with his right hand while make a 'W' by his mouth. "To here," he tapped the cloud at the top of the page with the pencil.
Gillian came back in with a red cheeked Owen, who had grasped a fist full of her shirt. "Hi Owen," Cal waved 'hello' to him.
"Eh," Owen responded. He tapped at his mother and whined, "Mama."
"Yeah I know," Gillian spoke softly to him. "You're hungry." She made a 'C' hand against her chest and drew it down to her stomach. "It's dinner time." She sat at the table, next to Lewis and turned Owen on to his back. He struggled against her, not liking the angle until she opened her shirt and settled him properly. Lewis watched her for a moment and then turned back to the page. Owen was in the process of being weaned. He'd have the rest of his dinner with them when it was ready.
"What happens when we heat warta up Lew?" Cal reengaged. He could see Gillian stroking the back of Owen's blonde hair out of the corner of his eye.
Lewis gave him a thoughtful expression. "It gets a mist." He didn't sign the word because he didn't know it.
"Yeah," Cal nodded, encouraging. "It becomes steam. And where does the steam go?"
"It goes up," Lewis simulated the action by raising his hands.
Cal waited a second to see if the boy would click and after a moment he did. "Oh!" His eyes went wider. "It goes up into the clouds?"
"Well, maybe not the steam we make by the hot showa or when we boil warta, but the ocean's and riva's and lakes do." He signed the main nouns.
"Oh," Lewis repeated, blinking a few times, processing.
"But," Cal cut in, finger spelling the word. "How do the lakes and oceans and rivas heat up to make steam?" Lewis looked confused again. "Do we get a big stove with a pot on it?" 'Pot' was making a curved 'bowl' shape with both hands.
Lewis laughed. "No."
Cal smiled. "No that'd be a bit tricky huh?" He used 'difficult'.
"Ow!" Gillian complained pulling Owen back from her breast. "No biting me!" Owen looked completely unapologetic but she let him back for his pre-dinner snack.
"What's outside that's warm all the time?" Cal brought Lewis's attention back to him. 'Warm' was an 'O' hand by the mouth that then moved out and the fingers opened up as well.
"The sun?" Lewis tried dubiously. Using an 'O' hand up to the right of his head and moving it in a slight circle.
"Yeah the sun," Cal agreed. "The sun heats up the warta and it turns into steam that we can't see and it rises up and makes clouds and then eventually, when the clouds get enough warta in them, it rains." He drew a sun in the gap and more arrows to connect all the points together and turned it to show Lewis. "And that is the rain cycle."
"Right," Gillian grumped pulling Owen away from her chest and sitting him up. "If you're going to bite, you're not getting any." Owen gave her a disgruntled squeal. "I know you're teeth hurt," Gillian conceded, re-dressing expertly with one hand. "But that still doesn't mean you can bite," she finished, annoyed. Owen was heading towards cold turkey really quickly.
"I copy this Dad?" He mimicked placing something into his left open palm.
"Yeah you can copy that into your book," Cal answered Lewis. He held out his hands to take Owen and Gillian handed him off, getting up again to check on dinner. Gillian gave Cal a nod from the kitchen while he manhandled the wriggling seventeen month old. Cal leaned forward to place his hand over Lewis's book. He looked up. "But afta dinna." He used 'across' which was hard to sign when he was trying to also hold onto his toddler. "First, you have to set the table." 'Establish' and 'table' both required two hands so Cal relied on the fact that Lewis was looking up at him. He got up to put Owen in his high chair and dragged it over to where he was sitting. Lewis put his homework together at the end of the table, then put out the place mats and went to get knives and forks. Gillian gave Cal a bowl with pieces of the vegetable and chicken lasagne, already broken apart and cooling for Owen. Cal blew on a piece of chicken heavily as Lewis brought over utensils. He checked the heat against his bottom lip and went back to blowing on it while Owen called out and made grabbing hands at him. "It's hot," Cal told him, making an 'O' hand by his mouth then moving it away and opening the fingers.
Lewis brought over plates, one at a time. Gillian carried over the lasagne and went back for a serving spatula and a sharper knife. Cal checked the chicken again and gave it to Owen as Gillian served up. When she was seated Cal looked down at his plate and the cheesy topping. The smell was incredible and he felt his mouth salivate with the thought of the taste; did he mention it had been a long day? "This looks fantastic," Cal told his wife. She gave him a smile of acknowledgement.
"Yeah Mum this is yummy," Lewis agreed giving her a big thumbs up and a grin.
"Ah! Ah! Ummy," Owen added waving a hand in the air.