Skip to main content

Fear Factor

 Did you know that it has been not scientifically proven that a baby can smell her mother's presence through a closed door.  It's probably the smell of fear that they are actually attuned to, but nonetheless.  I hold my breath and walk on tiptoe past the baby's room and still get busted nearly every time.  My fear is pungent.

Besides waking the babies, I have another fear currently in the forefront of my mind.  Don't mind me, this is just another episode of True Confessions...  Here it is: the boys are getting so much outside time that they are building up incredible endurance.  It's great really, but it is becoming so hard to wear them out. It used to be an hour at the playground and we were golden.  Now, they basically put in an eight-hour workday, and it's just a warm-up!  Does anybody have a treadmill....?  Real school is going to be a bit of an adjustment for the big guy next fall.   

Speaking of school, it isn't currently a huge concern for him.  He is already smarter than me - so says the six going on sixteen-year-old.  I told him that was incorrect, but I'm pretty sure he remains unconvinced.  Apparently, some of our praise and compliments have fed his ego more than we intended.  We look forward to his classmates rectifying that mistake.  In the meantime, this mama bear needs to brush up on her animal trivia...     

In the realm of intelligence, it probably doesn't help my case that I forget half of the things that I tell the boys.  Remembering punishments is the worst.  "If you do that again, XYZ will happen."  When the behavior comes up again, I have no idea what I said the prior time.  Fortunately, I have a little work around.  When I can't remember what X-Y-or Z was, I use this magical line: "What did I say would happen if you did that again!!?!"  Right now, the kids are naïve enough to think I'm testing them.  They obediently tell me the answer, so I can dole out the afore promised punishment.  Winner.  Moms and Dads everywhere, you are welcome.  No guarantees how long this will work, but for now, I guess I am smarter than a six-year-old.  

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pink Stinks

Our girls, like most four-year-old girls, love pink.  And purple.  And sparkly things, unicorns, butterflies, lizards and cats.  But especially pink.  Their brothers aren't so fond of pink.  They prefer the color dirt.  I know this because it's what they have chosen for the color of our walls, windows, light switches and their socks.   "Do you like pink?"  Emerson asked Fischer one day not long ago. "No." "Why?" "Because pink stinks !" Cue 'angry tears and screaming.' This of course delighted her brother who began using the line anytime he wanted to see her cry.  Which was often.  It didn't change her passion for the color, however.  She still demanded the pink plate, pink cup, pink shirt, pink shoes, and pink gum if she had the choice.  Because pink is the best when you're four.   Fast forward a couple of weeks.  The girls were collecting pieces of garbage off the van floor.  Why?  I don't know, b...

Reflecting

It's August. I guess I can stop waiting for that call from the Oregon Department of Education.  It appears I didn't earn teacher of the year after all.  I wonder if it had something to do with my mask policy?  It definitely could have been the mask policy.   Personally, I thought the duct tape worked great.   *Sigh* It was probably the mask policy.  You win some.  You lose some.  Better luck next year.   Speaking of next year, we are trying a hybrid homeschool program.  Sawyer gets to go to school twice a week and learn at home the other days.  I'm confident he will fall in love with his teacher in the first eight minutes.  She is young, cute and very enthusiastic.  It's going to either make him work really hard or be a complete distraction.  Either way, on the "home" days, I'm going to make her look really good.  Pajama Mama is neither young nor cute and I'm rarely enthusiastic (which may have als...