Test Pattern

Witty observations, tales of the ridiculous, and general rants have been temporarily interrupted.  We apologize for any inconvenience this outage may cause.  Please be assured that our engineers are working diligently to add more hours to the day and activities to the schedule to resolve this issue. We look forward to resuming blogging as time and brain space allows.

We appreciate your patience.

Please don't litter.

Puberty?

Scene:  MM cleaning up last of dinner dishes. 
HRH enters kitchen, left arm raised overhead as if waiting for the teacher to call on him for the answer.

HRH:  I think I have my first armpit hair.

MM:  Oh?  (peers closely).  I don't see one buddy.

HRH:  Oh, maybe I'm just sweaty then.

Always Say "Thank you".

Dear Mrs. M.,

As the school year draws to a close, I wanted to thank you so much for everything you’ve done this year. As we've discussed, the transition from preschool to kindergarten was a particularly rocky one for HRH (perhaps more so for his mommy). We had originally looked to St. Somewhere’s due to a misguided belief that the public schools in Manickville could not meet the needs of our son. We could not have been more wrong. In every area where St Somewhere’s failed, New School has flourished! I’m so happy to have found a community of caring, respectful, involved parents and a school ready and willing to accept my help, my opinions, and my neuroses.

Most especially, I am thankful for you. I so appreciate your hands-on, “treat them as individuals” approach to your class. From day one, you have greeted each child, looked into his eyes, and called him by name. It was obvious you wanted to get to know our children in order to teach to their needs and you have more than met that goal.

HRH enjoys school. He is genuinely happy to go every day, just as he was in preschool. One of my greatest fears was that his time at St Somewhere’s would destroy that enthusiasm. I can’t thank you enough for resurrecting it and for fostering it.

As we look to second grade – and kindergarten for Gremlin, I am optimistic. I am confident that, as with this year, my boys will be given teachers who will best meet their needs, who will show them that learning can be fun, and who will provide them with the gentle guidance you have this year.

With warmest regards,

Christine Manic

Harsh

Scene:  MM and The Daddy preparing for bed.

Daddy:  Babe, I gotta tell you, in the realm of "harsh" tonight, you cracked me up.

MM: Smiles beatifically. 


The boys have always had their own rooms but given a choice, HRH would rather share space with his brother.  From Mom and Dad's standpoint, HRH camping in Gremlin's room increases the chances of a full night's sleep for everyone.  IT's called a win-win - except the obvious fooling around, blanket disruption, tossing of stuffed animals, and moving of beds (really?) that accompanies shared sleeping space.  So in and out the parents go; cajoling, threatening, ultimately separating. The problem is that Grem actually prefers to sleep by himself so as the instigator, he's got nothing to lose and I've lost hand.

Last night, post-bath, as the boys were engaged in their pre-bedtime ritual of coercion and bribery attempts for co-sleeping, HRH bumped into his bedside lamp, sending it crashing to the floor and breaking the bulb.  I react like a medic on the battlefield.  Clearing the barefoot boys from the scene and going down on hands and knees with a dustpan and brush, then the Dustbuster. Cleaner than it was before 'the incident'.

I then tell the boys that because of the danger of glass, I think that HRH should definitely sleep in Gremlin's room tonight.  This was of course, not the concern. The shake-down had gone on for nearly half an hour and I was simply tired of hearing it.  We tuck in and do God Blesses. 

And I leave them with this warning;  "If there is any fooling around,  the person that started it will be sleeping in HRH's room.  With the glass."

Not a word.  Not a sound.  Straight to sleep.