This morning Billy woke up early and decided to use his time wisely by poking me in the ear. I opted to send him off to the living room to watch cartoons and let me sleep at least until my alarm went off.
Bad idea.
He wouldn't leave the cartoons to get ready for school when it was time. I turned off the boob tube, but that only brought out the hellion, loving little demon that he is.
He threw himself on the sofa, tucked his feet under himself and simply refused to put on shoes. "I'm not wearing shoes. I'm not going to school. I'm staying home and watching cartoons. Just leave me here!"
I threatened to take him to school without shoes.
He decided to test me.
I attempted to wrap him in his coat, which he protested. Again, he was testing me.
He thought he was calling my bluff, but little did he know that I was serious. I picked him up and carried him out to the car, without shoes, without a coat. Don't worry! I put those items in his school bag. Wouldn't want him to be the ragamuffin at school.
He cried about being shoeless, but refused to let me put them on his feet. So, I buckled him in and off we went to school.
About half way there he realized he was cold. Perhaps, that would be because mornings in November are quite chilly. It was, in fact, fairly mild this morning, but chilly enough that his little t-shirt wasn't enough. I had a blanket for him but he didn't want i. He cried for me to take him home so I could put his coat on. No way, kiddo. I know that ploy and we're not going home.
By the time we got to school he acquiesced about the shoes, grumbling the whole time and insisting that I carry him. Well, at least I got him into shoes.
That's right, kiddo. You don't want to wear your shoes or coat? You're still going to school. You'll just go to school barefoot and cold.
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
November 5, 2013 ~ Star Student
This week Billy is the Star Student in his class. This is a thing they do in his preschool. He has to provide a "gift" to each of his classmates. (Really? Because we all need 18 little toys throughout the school year plus the added expense.) The also have to answer questions, color signs and print out photos.
Let me rephrase that... "I" have to buy toys for his class, write out his answers after forcing him to somehow answer 20 questions, bribe him to color the signs and then print and cut out photos for him. Thanks, Teach!
First up, the "gift". Now, he came home from school last week with a pencil. But the week before he came home with a Hot Wheel. I prattled off a list of cheap items- pencils, temp tattoos, stickers... Nope. He wanted to get his friends Hot Wheels.
The only problem with this was when I came home from the store with 4 packs of Hot Wheels he suddenly didn't want to give them over to his friends. He wanted to keep them all. Can you blame him?
Then there's the questionaire. What's your favorite movie, what are your hobbies, where do you like to travel, what do you want to be when you grow up? Those are some big questions for a 3 year old. The answers? Beauty and the Beast, camping and watching movies, Rushmore, and a butterfly. There were actually twenty questions, but you get the idea.
And he had to "write" the answer on a piece of paper and then decorate it. Really? He can't write. And the decorating? Who's really going to do that?
Bring on the pictures. This isn't like the old days of flipping through booklets of photos. Nope. Everything is digital these days. And because it's digital I have a LOT of photos. 3000 from 2013 alone. That's a lot of sifting. I opted instead to open Facebook and scroll through my big album, which has only 200 photos instead of 3000.
Here are some of his selections of photos he wanted to share with his friends:
He also included two photos of him with Santa, but I don't have them here. And I realize that he didn't include photos with some of his favorite people, but he was digging through a facebook album looking at random photos. He did not want to include any pictures of the beach, Disneyworld or his guitar. Go figure.
Let me rephrase that... "I" have to buy toys for his class, write out his answers after forcing him to somehow answer 20 questions, bribe him to color the signs and then print and cut out photos for him. Thanks, Teach!
First up, the "gift". Now, he came home from school last week with a pencil. But the week before he came home with a Hot Wheel. I prattled off a list of cheap items- pencils, temp tattoos, stickers... Nope. He wanted to get his friends Hot Wheels.
The only problem with this was when I came home from the store with 4 packs of Hot Wheels he suddenly didn't want to give them over to his friends. He wanted to keep them all. Can you blame him?
Then there's the questionaire. What's your favorite movie, what are your hobbies, where do you like to travel, what do you want to be when you grow up? Those are some big questions for a 3 year old. The answers? Beauty and the Beast, camping and watching movies, Rushmore, and a butterfly. There were actually twenty questions, but you get the idea.
And he had to "write" the answer on a piece of paper and then decorate it. Really? He can't write. And the decorating? Who's really going to do that?
Bring on the pictures. This isn't like the old days of flipping through booklets of photos. Nope. Everything is digital these days. And because it's digital I have a LOT of photos. 3000 from 2013 alone. That's a lot of sifting. I opted instead to open Facebook and scroll through my big album, which has only 200 photos instead of 3000.
Here are some of his selections of photos he wanted to share with his friends:
He also included two photos of him with Santa, but I don't have them here. And I realize that he didn't include photos with some of his favorite people, but he was digging through a facebook album looking at random photos. He did not want to include any pictures of the beach, Disneyworld or his guitar. Go figure.
Monday, November 4, 2013
SMN Thanksgiving Project - Please Help
So, I follow a couple of other blogs. Maybe you've heard of this one particular blog: Scary Mommy.
Well, she has a charity. Her charity provides Thanksgiving meals to families that otherwise can't afford to feed their families. Can you imagine not being able to feed your kids? Can you imagine being hungry on Thanksgiving?
If you've got a few spare dollars in your pocket, there are currently 240 families waitlisted for help.
Hunger is a real problem, and it's not just a problem for far away African children. There are children starving right here in our own backyards. Please help.
~
When I was in Ireland, I had the opportunity to walk through the western countryside. It's a bucolic setting. But between those rolling green hills are dilapidated houses, petrified potato ridges, and marks of where the Great Potato Famine decimated the Irish population. I stood in a house, roof gone, overgrown with weeds, where a whole family starved to death together. I stood by a lake where an entire village drowned in a flood, too weak from hunger to escape the rising waters in a storm.
Hunger in America isn't like that. There are no monuments to the fallen from hunger. There aren't gaunt eyes of round-bellied children for a camera op. No, it's families struggling, too proud to tell their friends and families and coworkers, but desperate enough to ask for help so they don't have to watch their kids go hungry.
Well, she has a charity. Her charity provides Thanksgiving meals to families that otherwise can't afford to feed their families. Can you imagine not being able to feed your kids? Can you imagine being hungry on Thanksgiving?
If you've got a few spare dollars in your pocket, there are currently 240 families waitlisted for help.
Hunger is a real problem, and it's not just a problem for far away African children. There are children starving right here in our own backyards. Please help.
~
When I was in Ireland, I had the opportunity to walk through the western countryside. It's a bucolic setting. But between those rolling green hills are dilapidated houses, petrified potato ridges, and marks of where the Great Potato Famine decimated the Irish population. I stood in a house, roof gone, overgrown with weeds, where a whole family starved to death together. I stood by a lake where an entire village drowned in a flood, too weak from hunger to escape the rising waters in a storm.
Hunger in America isn't like that. There are no monuments to the fallen from hunger. There aren't gaunt eyes of round-bellied children for a camera op. No, it's families struggling, too proud to tell their friends and families and coworkers, but desperate enough to ask for help so they don't have to watch their kids go hungry.
November 4, 2013 ~ Fall Weekend
For fun Grandma and I took Billy out to a farm to go apple picking. Sigh, no apple picking. So, Billy got to pick those apples right out of the barrel in the farm stand. You do what you've got to do. It worked out. He had fun.
They had a petting zoo and he didn't want to leave. He made friends with a goat and a donkey (yes, they were following him around). But, eventually we did have to go get lunch. He cried, he begged to stay with his new friends. I enticed him away with ice cream.
We ran into family at the restaurant and had a lovely lunch and then got some more veggies and pies after lunch. Billy picked a "pickle". (Ok, it was still a cucumber, but he was calling it a pickle). I bought him the pickle and then he saw the honey sticks and flipped a lid over wanting to trade the pickle (that he had already licked) for the honey sticks. Despite the tantrum, he ended up falling asleep cuddling the cucumber in the car.
On Sunday, the first really cold day, he refused to get out of his pajamas. We stayed inside, ate apples and watched football. It was a lovely fall day to be cuddly warm inside.
They had a petting zoo and he didn't want to leave. He made friends with a goat and a donkey (yes, they were following him around). But, eventually we did have to go get lunch. He cried, he begged to stay with his new friends. I enticed him away with ice cream.
We ran into family at the restaurant and had a lovely lunch and then got some more veggies and pies after lunch. Billy picked a "pickle". (Ok, it was still a cucumber, but he was calling it a pickle). I bought him the pickle and then he saw the honey sticks and flipped a lid over wanting to trade the pickle (that he had already licked) for the honey sticks. Despite the tantrum, he ended up falling asleep cuddling the cucumber in the car.
On Sunday, the first really cold day, he refused to get out of his pajamas. We stayed inside, ate apples and watched football. It was a lovely fall day to be cuddly warm inside.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)