Small children are always fascinated by dinosaurs and garbage trucks. Both are loud. Both are large. And in a few quick seconds, both could kill your mama, that woman who frequently says no to you.
Happily, JT has largely outgrown his fascination with large objects that could destroy Mama. Sadly, a new obsession has replaced it. He's fascinated by a series of books he found at the school library. The premise of the series is an exploration of things "You Wouldn't Want to Be" and the illustrated and fact-rich books feature a range of things you really would rather not endure: being a pirate's prisoner (keel-hauling sounds dreadful); being the sheriff in a lawless Wild West town (bad guys abounded and would often try to shoot you); being an American pioneer (those wagons could have used some shock absorbers); or serving in the Civil War (death from your gangrenous seeping wound totally bites). His appetite for these sorts of details is impressive. So I knew it would happen one day: he'd bring home a book about the Egyptian pyramids.
I may be a History teacher who has taken any number of courses in ancient history, almost all of which mention Egypt. But...I don't really care about ancient Egypt and the pyramids. Mummification? Whatever. King Tut? Yawn. Marvels! Wonders! Amazing! How did they manage to build those pyramids? Actually, I don't much care. I'm down with the plague and castle invasions that feature boiling oil sloshed over the side. When it comes to studying the Druids or the Crusades, I'll get on board with the human sacrifice and suffering. I'll pony up for some good old-fashioned Inquisition torture. But Egypt is just not my thing. Sadly, JT brought this book home from the library last week:
I'm fearful of years and years of those amazing pyramids in my future.