We're about half way through 1st grade right now, and I feel cheated. Like maybe we all should have started school when we were 30. Because I am learning so much more this time around than I remember learning then. I didn't know camels had big feet so they wouldn't sink in the deep desert sand. And I didn't remember that there were actually rules for reading. It's fun to learn "when two vowels go walking, the first one does the talking" now that I actually care.
Z often disappears while I'm trying to act out my teacher role, Ms. Mama (Bwaaahahhhhaaa!). I find him under the table or in the bathroom or playing in the living room. I keep telling him he'd be in trouble if he was in public school, but the truth is, he's not, and so....since the kid is actually listening while he's doing those other things, I let him wander (within reason, of course). He usually has the easiest time with new concepts and he knows the weekly memory verse after the 1st day. For now, I guess I'm fine with him being under the table. As long as he can count his coins or do the 100 chart from there.
Not only is Z usually under the table or laying on the floor for school, but he is also donning some crazy costume. We've had Spider man, Iron man, a pirate, a knight, and a cowboy grace our presence in the last month or so. We came home from church today, and the kid stripped as he walked in the door. Screw the church clothes. He has stripey pirate pants and a knight cape to throw on! Right now, he's doing quiet time in a cowboy hat with guns strapped to his hip.
I'm thinkin' his costumes might be what he considers attractive for the ladies. He might be practicing up on the womanizing skills....
In bed the other night, he told B, "When mama and papa die, we can live together. We'll have two wives and a bunch of babies! Won't that be cool!?" I guess his focus on the wives and babies is helping him not be too shaken up about K and I being gone some day. (E'hem. I feel so loved!)
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If I reread my blog right now, I'd probably be reminded of lots of difficult times with B being REALLY stubborn. (Sorry, B, it's true....I don't know WHERE you get it...) We constantly reminded ourselves, during that time, that stubbornness can be called perseverance, and perseverance is good. Right!?
There was a time there when the stubbornness in him couldn't handle choices. We'd give him the choice of Spidey or Light Year pajamas and he'd be pissed that he couldn't choose his bedtime. We'd give him the choice of Cheerios or Rice Krispies, and he'd be traumatized by our not offering Chex. We'd let him pick out his clothes all week, with the understanding that I laid out his clothes on Sunday.
He'd freak.
Every Sunday morning.
So we cut him off from choices, cold turkey, and it was like we slipped the kid a Prozac. He was calm and cool. And way happier.
Now that he's almost SEVEN (SEVEN!), we've been slipping in more and more choices, and he seems to handle them better now. I noticed today that he had on holey jeans for church, and I realized I didn't lay out clothes for him last night. I asked him to please pick out jeans without holes, and ya know how you get all tense; like you're gearing up for a fight? That's what I felt like, like I was imagining my response to his craziness.
And then...
There was no fight at all. He did it, no questions asked. No complaints.
Must be because he'll be SEVEN in a few days! SEVEN!
One of the reasons I'd want our kids in "real school" (as our kids call it) is not so much that I'd like them to interact with other bratty kids, but because they need to interact more with adults. Both S and B have "I answered when people talked to me" on their star chart, and while they do try, it is really hard for them. Even when B talks to ME in front of other people, he starts doing this crazy robot voice and gets all stiff and red. It's like he'd rather be a machine than to face the evil alien adults observing his every move.
I asked him, once, if he was embarrassed when people talk to him. He wondered how I knew. I told him he was talking all mono-tone and his face was bright red.
Now, any time one of our kids' face is red, B still insists (a little stubbornness there yet, I know) that it's because that particular kid is embarrassed.
B ate Z's box of Christmas candy (on accident), and Z was in a fury (as much of a fury as Z gets into...like he might have been breathing a little harder and apparently, his face was red). B assessed the situation, and said, "Z, why are you embarrassed that I ate your candy? That is not embarrassing."
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