Distractions, extractions, transactions
I may have mentioned this before, but I think she is the bomb DOT com.
Monday was Rosie’s first day at her new preschool, and do you want to know how many tears that girl shed because of being moved to a totally new environment with new friends, teachers and surroundings? ZERO POINT ZERO. In fact, the morning after the first day when I came to get her out of bed, she said “What we going to do?” (her routine way of assessing what’s in store for the day), and after I said “We’re going to your new school!” she said “Again?” I held my breath, expecting histrionics, but instead she chirped, “Oh! Yeah! I want to do that!” And totally bopped into her classroom an hour later, turning only to tell me “You go, Mama.” Yeah, that is much better than this was. I’ll take it.
Is it just me, or is losing teeth one of the grossest rites of passage ever? I remember that feeling of having a wiggly tooth, nudging it nonstop with the tip of my tongue under the bottom edge, torturing myself with half-hearted attempts to pull it. And then that vague tearing feeling when it finally let loose, like a piece of seaweed ripping in half underwater. All so you could be left with fifty cents under your pillow and a bloody gap in your mouth that would eventually be filled with a tooth that would need thousands of dollars in braces to be straightened in the years when you already looked your worst?
I just don’t know why we haven’t kicked this process out of existence, evolutionarily speaking, is all. I guess we’re still busy working on phasing out appendixes or something.
Summah, summah, summahTIME
Wow, so this is the first school’s out for the summer experience we’ve had as two full-time working parents, and DAMN is it expensive. Those all-day, all-week camp fees ain’t messin’ aROUND. Next summer I’m going to be smarter about this and teach Noah how to use a mower and maybe also simple accounting and babysitting-grade CPR so he can get a job and quit draining our bank account with his need for social activity, stimulation and food. GEEZ.
All that being said, so far he’s pretty much having the best time of his 6 year old life this summer, and we’re only two weeks in. So, ok, fine. I will pay the monies.
(P.S. After experiencing my first round of baseball practice and uniform/all-day summer camp round of laundry, I have officially moved the age in which members of this household must become in charge of washing their own clothes back from 12 to 6. And I’ve added a maximum age of 31.)