Today we had a meeting at the little guy’s school to discuss his speech therapy program. While I was waiting in the office, his teacher stopped in and sat beside me. She told me that she wanted to discuss something that happened in class today. She warned that it wasn’t a big deal, but that she’d kept the little guy in for recess. Turns out, he was copying a friend’s answers during a listening/writing activity – complete with misspellings and an exclamation point!
Now, don’t get me wrong, I take cheating very seriously, but since he’s number three, I’ve learned a thing or two about what goes on in school. When the big guy was the same age, he would come home and confess to me about something he got in trouble for and I would instantly call the teacher and explain how “seriously” we took education and that there would be consequences at home as well. Fast forward 7 years, and I know when to let the school discipline just be, and when I have to step in.
So, although I figured staying in for recess and discussing the “incident” would suffice, I couldn’t help but wonder if the little guy would tell me about it. The bigs talk to me about everything. Surely my little guy would come home and tell me what happened. Not.
Just imagine me trying to pry the info from the little guy…”So, honey, how was school?” “What’d you do at recess?”…Nothing. No info coming my way. By the time dinner came, I could take it no more! So I came out with a direct question:
“How was recess today?”
And do you know what the answer was? A suspicious “WHY would you even ask me that?”
Not, “I’m so sorry Mommy, I got in trouble. I made a bad choice.”
Nooo, it was “WHY would you even ask me that?”
So, I just said, “I always ask you how recess was.”
“You do?” he replied.
“Yes,” I nodded.
“Good!” he cheerfully answered! Good? Staying in and discussing copying your friend’s answers is good??
All children are different. Even in the same family. Even if you think you’re raising them the same. But dammit, that number three, well, he sure is his own person. He’s got his own secret school life going on, and he’s not going to let me into it. No matter how hard I pry.
I guess I’ll just go with it. Let him figure out his way. Hope he learned his lesson. And sharpen my super sleuth skills – looks like I’m going to need them!
Yesterday was a tough one for me. My baby turned 7, which is a giant leap away from babyhood. I mean, it’s not even really little kid anymore. It’s kinda big kid. Now what am I supposed to do? I think I need another baby. Ok, we’ll revisit that in another blog. When I’m thinking clearer.
Then, as if I wasn’t already melancholy, stupid Modern Family had to go and get all sappy. Geez. I watch that show to laugh, not to cry. And oh man did I cry! Hannah (Taylor, Haley, Abby? what is her name anyway?) moved into college and well, that apparently was just too much for me to handle on top of my baby turning seven.
Also, there was this: The little guy asked several times if he could have a “gelatin cake” for his birthday. “Sure!” I replied. “Easy!” I thought. Well, I was wrong. The only kind of “gelatin cake” I’ve ever made is the Jello Poke cake, with Cool-Whip topping and fresh strawberries. So, surely, that’s what he wanted, right? Not so much. But, I didn’t know that. So yesterday, after school, he double checked, “You made me a “gelatin cake”, right?” “Of course I did honey! And even with a special topping for my special guy!” He was all smiles. I used cherry Jello and topped the Cool-Whip with his favorite, maraschino cherries (Red 40, anyone?)
However, when he came into the kitchen for the singing and the candle blowing, he advised me that this was not a “gelatin cake” after all. Huh? My eyes filled with tears. He only turns seven once. Had I thoroughly ruined his birthday? No, he assured me, but this definitely was NOT a “gelatin cake.” A “gelatin cake” would be made of all Jello and not served in coffee cups as I usually serve it. It would be like a cake, except Jello. Yeah, got it… now. Somewhere, somehow, in his short seven years he managed to see a 1970’s gelatin MOLD? How is that possible? Who even owns one anymore, and how could I get one, ASAP??
Luckily, my friend Andrea, with the sunny, clean and uncluttered kitchen, manages to pull out the most unusual of all things from her Narnia-like wardrobe of a cupboard.
So today, it’ll be a cherry Jello mold. With a heart on top. And maybe I won’t cry this time.