“You’re studying the French and Indian War? Breeches and muskets and tricorns, oh my!” I wanted to squeal like a Beatles groupie, then throw myself on the floor and roll around like a dog on something stinky. “Yeah,” my nephew replied, his chin resting on his hands. “Some guy named Braddock,” my niece replied. I met them at Grandma’s house, where the little darlings dragged their workbooks to the table like condemned murderers heading for the gallows. Me (doing a fangirl hand flutter and fighting the urge to race around my yard): “History? Are you kidding me? I would love to!” Sister: “Dude, I know you’re busy, but I am so far behind. The conversation with my sister went something like this: Recently, I volunteered to help my homeschooled niece and nephew with their history lessons. Thanks to Roxanne for allowing me a little space to ramble on her blog today.
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