Eat your beans at every meal
Today when I arrived at the kids’ school to do the Afternoon To-Home Schlep, not just one but two teachers (neither of whom are actually Rosie’s teachers … and whose classrooms are fairly far away from her classroom) stopped me in the hall before I reached her class to relate to me that Rosie had had “a day.” Her afternoon teacher then told me that the main teacher would like to speak to us in the morning. Ugh, this feels like being called to the principal’s office. And I’m not even going, L is. I would like to pretend that what the teachers meant was she had a fantastic day, but the hoarse rasp I could hear in her voice after picking her up tells me all I need to know.
I am bear-ly breathing
Max is currently stopped up like a corked bottle of wine in both his nose-holes, and poor baby just grins and bears it. Like, literally bears it. He distracts himself from discomfort by growling, baby animal-style, and I’ll be darned if it’s not the cutest thing to hit your eardrums in your whole life. I do wish the sleeping would happen a little more, however, cute growly bear noises and all.
Say what now
The kids and I were reading my old copy of the Random House Book of Poetry for Children the other night, and it was like one huge vocabulary lesson. Words learned: bide, disdain, frock, vermin, kin. Also, I’ve been teaching Noah how to read music a bit and about how rhythm is just groovy math (which he is way into like whoa, you guys), etc. etc. Plus, I’ve been trying to pass on my (minimal) skills in 3D letter writing. Such as it is.
Eight year olds are crazy-rad. Also, you can teach them stuff like the “Beans, beans they’re good for your heart” rhyme, and they think you are awesome. Please let it be so forever.