5 posts tagged “edumacation”
When I picked The Bug up from school on Friday afternoon, the report was not good. Yes, he had taken a nap, but that was about the only positive thing that could be said. Where to begin? In no particular order, here are some highlights:
The assistant director had to speak to The Bug about appropriate behaviour at lunch. As in, it is not appropriate to sit on the table with ones knees on either side of ones plate.
He got up from his nap, and his teacher noticed that he had gum in his mouth. The Bug reported that he got the gum from underneath his cot. Ew. When instructed to put the gum in the garbage, The Bug swallowed it instead.
There was a small poop accident, so he came home with soiled underpants (in a plastic bag, inside his backpack).
The Bug and two of his friends were overheard having an animated conversation which apparently consisted mostly of the word "fuck."
He demonstrated that his listening skills are truly horrible by once again ignoring me outright when it was time to leave school. He did finally acknowledge that I was speaking to him, though. He told me "No, I'm not going."
When we left school, he ran down the sidewalk and expressed his affection for my car by giving it a full-on mouth-and-face-smashed-up-against-the-wintry-salty-muck-just-below-the-gas-tank-kiss. Again, I say ew.
Either right before, or right after, the kissing of the car, in the two seconds it took me to put his backpack on the seat, The Bug tried to run out into middle of the parking lot by himself.
He is what the experts call a spirited child.
No wonder I'm tired.
hockey stick?
Yes, at our house, that's the way The Bug sings it. He's also developed a fondness for Queen's "Bicycle," and most of the Sweeney Todd soundtrack, which I've been listening to in the car. The usual cry from the back seat is "Mommy, turn it louder," and unless we're already at ear shattering volume, I usually comply, because, well, a lot of what we listen to nowadays is either loud or louder. But Sweeney gives me a chance to explain that not all music is supposed to be loud, and that what starts out quiet could turn loud later. Yup, we're learning about dynamics. He's getting it, too.
Well. Except the part about how it translates to an appropriate volume for speaking indoors. I'm afraid that's going to be a long, hard lesson.
The Bug is most definitely my child. He loves his books. Sometimes he sits on my lap and he "reads" to me, or we look at the book together and talk about it without actually reading it at all. On rare occasions, he allows me to read to him. But more often than not, he wants to read by himself. There's been a lot more low-activity time this week, since The Bug has another (or the same persistent) ear infection and was home from preschool most of Tuesday, and all of Wednesday and Thursday. Here's what's been occupying some of that time*:
I love Eric Carle's illustrations. We've had this book for a long time, but just recently, it's become a favorite. We're reading it multiple times per day - sometimes multiple times per sitting. The Bug knows the whole book, and turns the pages and "reads" it out loud.
This morning, I heard The Bug "reading" My Many Colored Days, but when I looked, he was holding Architecture Colors (which has no text other than the color names). And do you know, that clever boy was reciting the right text for the colors he was looking at?
*In the interest of full disclosure, I must admit that while The Bug was home all that time, I was not the primary pestilence tender. On Tuesday, I picked him up about lunch time after I got the call that he was running a fever. On Wednesday, I was scheduled to work a full day, and because it's retail, I can't really call out at the last minute. So I went to work, and Daddyman stayed home with the kid and took him to the doctor (where, of course, he was not running a fever at all). On Thursday, he had to stay home again because he cleverly spiked a fever again before bed on Wednesday, and refused to shake it overnight. So on Thursday, we tag-teamed. I took the morning shift, and then passed off to Daddyman so I could go to work in the afternoon. When I got home from work, we spent some time as a family and then Daddyman got to go get some work done. Today, The Bug is back at school, and I am trying to catch up on all the things that didn't get done around the house this week because of the pestilence. I'm not sure writing this post has been helpful...
In Bug-speak:
"Dark Later" = Darth Vader
"pumper fish" = puffer fish
"ravioli-os" = ravioli
"emandeminos" = M&Ms
The other day I opened up his bedroom windows, to let some fresh air in, and he immediately went to the window and shouted out "THE NEIGHBORS ARE BROKEN!" Several times. What the hell does that even mean?
He followed that up with "THAT GUY IS COMING TO BRING THE BUG PIZZA! THAT GUY... IS BRINGING PIZZA!! FOR THE BUG!!"
There was no one in sight.
At school the other day, they made bird feeders out of empty toilet paper tubes. You know, you cover the thing with glue, roll it in bird seed, punch a couple holes in it, string some yarn through, and call it a bird feeder. So The Bug showed it to me, and pretended to eat it. And I told him "no no, silly, that's for birds to eat." And he went to the (closed) window, held the bird feeder up in the air, and yelled "BIRDS!!!!! COME AND EAT DIS!!!! BIRDS!!!! COME ON, BIRDS!!!!"
Can you tell he's big into the yelling right now? I might have to get ear plugs.
Then there was the day he was sitting at the desk, playing with a small pile of change. He handed me several pennies and said "Mommy has to get paid. It's forty dollars, for Mommy."
And my personal favorite, "Bug needs to pay for ladies." Over and over and over.
He meant "pay the lady." Like, in a store. Really, he did. He says it properly now.
The best one, though, the one that made me have one of those cheesy mom moments, was this. Before my grandfather died last November, The Bug and I visited him a lot. Like, once a month from March through July or August, I think. Which is a lot when you're commuting from Chicago to NY with a toddler. So The Bug was about a year and a half old, maybe a bit younger, the last time he saw his great-grandfather.
My grandfather almost always had a toothpick in his mouth. Always. Right up until the end.
At least six months after the last time The Bug saw him, I happened to put a toothpick in my mouth (please don't ask me why).
The Bug looked at me and said "Mommy is great-grandpa."
He remembers. Everything.
According to The Bug, dinosaurs don't live anymore.
"They're distinct," he says.
