School-related
The boys love school. They really do, despite evidence to the contrary.
8:42 PM on the night before school resumed following Christmas break, after Trey's eleventh random question, a water bottle fillup, a sudden desire to floss his own teeth, and a few trips to his backpack to "check things"
Mama: Trey, you need to go to sleep. Your brain's not going to work right for school tomorrow.
Trey: But I'm not tiiiiiired. I don't want to go to school! I want this break to last forever! If I don't have to go to school, I never have to go to bed!
6:30 AM, um, every single morning
Mama: Aaaaaden, time to get up. gentle wiggle/tickle action
Aden:
6:40 AM, after increasingly loud greetings and more intense wiggle/tickle action
Mama: ADEN! GET UP NOW!
Aden: (whispered, lips barely moving) Too sleepy.
Mama: But you're going to be late for school.
Aden: (whisper continues) Don't like school.
And so it goes.
But they really enjoy their classes and teachers and friends. There is never a shortage of stories at the end of the day as to what they did in this class and who had to leave early for a dentist appointment and what new bad word they heard someone say.
Yeah, there's that too.
Anyhow, our busiest day of the week school-wise is Tuesday, when all of the boys' work from the prior week comes home, along with classroom newsletters, participation forms for whatever, order forms for photos/yearbooks/fundraisers, pleas for help in sending in food or school supplies, ad infinitum. The kitchen table all but disappears.
Oh my Trey, always insistent upon going through all of his papers before I get to them, talking the whole time, his trademark intense-slash-confused look not once leaving his face.
Oh my Aden, wanting so badly to see what his folder holds, but the wiggles have just been held inside for too long so he swings like a monkey off his chair while checking out his work, taking occasional breaks to sprint or somersault across the kitchen.
These are our Tuesday afternoons. And approximately two hours later, I have scribbled my name seventeen times, paperclipped the mountain of checks and sheets to be returned, entered a half-dozen items to my poor phone calendar, and helped each boy with the arduous task of completing homework. They're ready to play and I have no cohesive thoughts left.
Report cards came home this week. Very, very good work, as usual, by both boys.
Trey has some room for improvement in language/writing. This is my surprised face. The boy writes stream-of-consciousness, y'all. Which is also how he talks. Which is also how his Mama writes. Which is also really how life operates for us. Main idea, schmain idea.
Aden's teacher asked us for the bazillionth time to help him work on his handwriting. This is my surprised face. To get Aden to do any sit-down work at home, I basically have to sit-down on him. He hates writing. Ain't nobody got time for that.
One picture of each boy, every week, doing their thing. In this case, our Tuesday thing. Maybe one day their kids will look at these photos and be all shocked like, "You actually used paper??"
Kinda like Trey and Aden do to us now. "What's an en-cycle-pedia?"
Gotta love it.
8:42 PM on the night before school resumed following Christmas break, after Trey's eleventh random question, a water bottle fillup, a sudden desire to floss his own teeth, and a few trips to his backpack to "check things"
Mama: Trey, you need to go to sleep. Your brain's not going to work right for school tomorrow.
Trey: But I'm not tiiiiiired. I don't want to go to school! I want this break to last forever! If I don't have to go to school, I never have to go to bed!
6:30 AM, um, every single morning
Mama: Aaaaaden, time to get up. gentle wiggle/tickle action
Aden:
6:40 AM, after increasingly loud greetings and more intense wiggle/tickle action
Mama: ADEN! GET UP NOW!
Aden: (whispered, lips barely moving) Too sleepy.
Mama: But you're going to be late for school.
Aden: (whisper continues) Don't like school.
And so it goes.
But they really enjoy their classes and teachers and friends. There is never a shortage of stories at the end of the day as to what they did in this class and who had to leave early for a dentist appointment and what new bad word they heard someone say.
Yeah, there's that too.
Anyhow, our busiest day of the week school-wise is Tuesday, when all of the boys' work from the prior week comes home, along with classroom newsletters, participation forms for whatever, order forms for photos/yearbooks/fundraisers, pleas for help in sending in food or school supplies, ad infinitum. The kitchen table all but disappears.
Oh my Trey, always insistent upon going through all of his papers before I get to them, talking the whole time, his trademark intense-slash-confused look not once leaving his face.
Oh my Aden, wanting so badly to see what his folder holds, but the wiggles have just been held inside for too long so he swings like a monkey off his chair while checking out his work, taking occasional breaks to sprint or somersault across the kitchen.
These are our Tuesday afternoons. And approximately two hours later, I have scribbled my name seventeen times, paperclipped the mountain of checks and sheets to be returned, entered a half-dozen items to my poor phone calendar, and helped each boy with the arduous task of completing homework. They're ready to play and I have no cohesive thoughts left.
Report cards came home this week. Very, very good work, as usual, by both boys.
Trey has some room for improvement in language/writing. This is my surprised face. The boy writes stream-of-consciousness, y'all. Which is also how he talks. Which is also how his Mama writes. Which is also really how life operates for us. Main idea, schmain idea.
Aden's teacher asked us for the bazillionth time to help him work on his handwriting. This is my surprised face. To get Aden to do any sit-down work at home, I basically have to sit-down on him. He hates writing. Ain't nobody got time for that.
One picture of each boy, every week, doing their thing. In this case, our Tuesday thing. Maybe one day their kids will look at these photos and be all shocked like, "You actually used paper??"
Kinda like Trey and Aden do to us now. "What's an en-cycle-pedia?"
Gotta love it.
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