The lass comes downstairs this morning after waking up to find the Wife preparing her morning cup o’ Joe. She proceeds to inform on the boy:
“Mom, my brother didn’t wake up this morning until he farted and scared the cat off the bed.”
Now, what exactly are we supposed to do with that information? Personally, I laughed.
The sound was a very familiar one to me. I’ve heard it many a time over the past few years. Borrowing from Dr. Seuss, it could appropriately be described by It started in low. Then it started to grow…
Only this sound wasn’t merry. In fact it was very un-merry.
It was the beginning of sobbing from the boy.
What could possibly have reduced him to such a state? If you’re suspecting me, well, that would be a fair guess I suppose, but in this case I can’t claim credit. It was his homework that had done him in.
That and having low blood-sugar levels.
His homework involved using his spelling words for the week. He’s been very good all year with spelling, even knowing all of the bonus words the teacher has tossed out. The exercise that did him in was the final one on the worksheet, which wanted him to write a paragraph describing how to do some gardening using 5 of the spelling words.
The problem he had was it wasn’t obvious how to use any of the words to describe ow to garden. The phrase he kept using was “It’s IMPOSSIBLE!” Hmm, actually it was more like “It’s IMPOSSIBLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!”
At this point in my parenting career, I don’t have much patience for crying. Especially because something is hard- cry me a river. It’s just a phrase but the boy was taking it literally. So I sat silently, waiting for him to stop. I didn’t even bother with the usual “Does crying solve anything?” type of attack. It’s not worth it as it only would have given voice to my frustration.
Since he wasn’t in a hurry to calm down, I took his worksheet to see what all the fuss was about. As it turns out, not only was his assignment possible- there existed a shining example of it in the previous problem. It was a paragraph about gardening using all of the spelling words, only some of them were misspelled. For that one, he was supposed to identify the misspelled words. He managed that just fine.
Back to the problem at hand, I informed him about the example on the worksheet. But this only agitated him further because he couldn’t use it. Oddly, I felt a little better after his statement since he’d voluntarily rejected plagiarism as a solution.
Since he still wasn’t calming down, I decided that the best course was to make him eat something. He continued to whimper all the way through his meal. To the point that I decided to eat somewhere else. Finally, after he’d finished his meal he calmed down. I’m guessing those two things are not unrelated.
Then wouldn’t you know, he went and wrote a paragraph about gardening using his spelling words. I even checked it over, correcting his spelling mistakes and helping him with his writing in general. He was a habit of creating runon sentences and using the same phrases over and over and over again without breaking things up into different sentences so that he has a whole bunch of words that are tied together and by the time you are done reading his sentence you are out of breath because you weren’t sure it would ever end and did I mention about the runons?
So it turned out to not be so impossible.
I’m not sure where the term “bike rodeo” came from, but that’s exactly what we did last night for our Pack meeting. Basically, a bike rodeo is a chance for kids to get their bikes checked out for safety, get helmets fitted, and ride their bikes around.
We had a local bike dealer come out and setup to checkout the bikes and make sure that helmets were properly fitted to heads, while another Dad brought along a compressor to take care of bike tires. This was our “gathering” activity, basically the pre-meeting stuff. It took about 20 minutes for everything to get completed.
I wanted to keep the meeting part of the evening a short as possible. We had about 20 kids whom had arrived expecting to ride, not be talked to all night and I didn’t want to disappoint. So after our opening flag ceremony, I went through a short list of announcements about upcoming events and then formally introduced the bike shop owner who came out to help. I also mentioned that they were all going to earn their Bicycling Belt Loops.
It turned out to be good practice for him since he’s been approached by 4 or 5 other Packs for the exact same thing. He spoke for about 5 minutes about safety: what side of the rode to ride on, what to do at intersections, how to properly wear a helmet. His only mistake was to ask if there were any questions because he started getting stories about different things that happened to the kids when they rode their bikes here or there. Fortunately, he figured it out quickly and got them heading for the doors.
Our riding time was in the bus loading area for the school. This turned out to be perfect because rather than a large parking area, it was a circular roadway with a center line through it so the kids had a natural path to follow. We simulated an intersection and made sure the kids stopped and waited. We even had a couple of live drills when some late workers at the school got in their cars to leave.
The kids had a great time with it and for the final few minutes we gave them some free ride time where they could just tool around as they liked through the parking lot. Frankly, the night couldn’t have gone much better. For anyone thinking about organizing this sort of event for their own Pack, I can’t recommend it enough. It’s a slam-dunk for a great night for the kids.
I promise not to make a habit of this, but the odds-beating involved were enough that I had to jot it down for posterity’s sake. This is my “great Words with Friends Comeback” story.
I’m playing my father and it’s a tight game for the most part. He started hitting a few well placed words and he opened a 50 or so point lead on me. That’s not a worrisome lead because the scoring in WwF is pretty friendly. But we had a very tight board, lots of stacked words and the like, so the opportunity for good word play was rapidly diminishing if we didn’t have the right letters in our rack. That’s what started happening to me, until I ended up with ‘QUIZ’ in my rack.
I could have played it right then, but I realized that the perfect place to play it was to hit the TW and TL squares on the outer boundary. That way, a 10 point letter landed on a TL square, and then with the TW I was looking at a minimum of 120 points. Bye-bye lead. So I gambled and started biding my time. Playing as many of the other 3 letters in my rack as I could.
The decision was met with great peril. Dad slowly began increasing his lead. 75 points. Then 100 points. The effect only served to reinforce my determination because it was rapidly becoming my only option. Letters were running out and I still hadn’t found a way to play QUIZ like I wanted. Getting desperate, I started swapping tiles.
I finally caught my break with 8 letters left in the game. After a swap, I pulled a D and a blank tile. Surveying the board, there was a word ending in Y 1 square over and 2 squares up from the leftmost TL square on the bottom. I needed a 2 letter word that I could add a Z to so I could play QUIZ like I wanted. I made the blank an A and played AD next to the Y and spelled down. So the D hovered precariously over the TL.
The next part was the worst- waiting for Dad to make his move. He’s pretty good with gobbling up freebies like a D in the clear over a TL. My only hope was that it was late enough in the game and that he didn’t have an S or something to spoil my plans. Luckily, that’s how it played out.
At this point in the game, his lead had swelled to about 150 points. As I said, there were only 8 or so letters left in the game, so this was my only shot. When I placed it down, I did a quick guesstimate and figured it would either tie me up or leave me just shy. Either way, I knew it would be a BIG swing.
It was bigger than I expected. QUIZ by itself was worth 129. But I also had ADZ as well, which was another 32 (the A was no points since it was a blank). Giving me a total of 161 points for 4 letters played. I went from down 150 to up by 10. There were no other big point letters left to play, and it was solely a matter of who could empty their rack most effectively at that point.
I hung on and finished the comeback, adding about 20 more points to my total to hold Dad off. Final score, 353-349.
Nothing beats a comeback.
What kind of parenting blog would be complete without a little puke?
Got home from the boy’s MA class tonight, and he went right to the couch with a stressed kind of breathing. Next thing I know, I get those 6 words every parent loves to hear: “I think I’m going to THROWUP!”
He made a bee-line for the bathroom, and pretty much just made it. Several minutes later, it was all over. I checked him and he didn’t have fever or anything, so I had him take a shower and, since it was close to bed time, basically just herded him to bed.
I made pasta with meatballs for dinner tonight. So far, the lass and I are fine. Of course, the lass loves pasta so much her body may be overriding the stomachs desire to evacuate. Here’s to hoping. As for the boy, I was thinking perhaps I hadn’t served him dinner far enough in advance of his MA class, so he’d gotten an upset stomach as a result of that.
Anyway, I’d just finished the greatest comeback in my history with WwF, when I heard the distinct coughing sounds of a child retching. When I made it upstairs, I discovered the boy hanging off the side of his bed, hovering over a puddle of noodles. Apparently, the puking process interferes with other neural pathways, because the boy continued to hover there, spitting onto the floor. When I asked him if he still had more, he grunted at me in reply. So I went over to him and got him moving towards the bathroom in case there was an encore.
Thankfully, there wasn’t. But I still had the mess to clean up. Upon closer inspection, he’d nailed the side of his bed as well. So I did the bed strip-tease and got that laundry going. In the meantime, what can I use to clean puke out of the carpet? Murhpy’s Oil Soap? No. Orange Cleaner? No. Resolve Stain Remover? No. Finally, I found some Woolite which seemed likely to be my best option. By then, I noticed my socks were wet. Which is great, because I’m sure when foot sweat and residual puke get together, it’s good times!
So the boy’s bed has been remade and I’ve spot cleaned the floor. I’ve also left him with a bucket. I thought I was doing pretty well, but then the boy appeared (while I’m on my hands and knees cleaning the carpet) and says “Aren’t you going to put a cold towel on my neck?”
After considering him for a moment, I replied “Do you feel hot? Like you’ve got a fever?”
“No” he said, “but that’s what Mom always does.”
Mom is, unfortunately, away at the moment, so it’s just me. And the pukes. I finally told him “Well, go ahead if that’ll make you feel better.” So he did.
He also wanted to know if he was going to school tomorrow- he’s always thinking ahead. I suppose I should commend him for trying to find a silver lining, but his silver lining will cause me some issues tomorrow. All I could tell him is that first we had to get him through tonight, and we’d see what tomorrow will bring.
At least in this case, I know what I hope it won’t bring.
Saturday, the boy competed in his first Martial Arts tournament. It was a school sponsored event, so he was amongst friends out there. Even so, it was telling when it finally dawned on him that he’d have to perform in front of people. All by himself. He’d been asking what would happen at the tournament and I tried to explain what he’d be doing, but I guess he just never made the connection. The deer-in-the-headlights look he had when it finally clicked was pretty good though.
In all, he competed well. He only competed in forms, which are a series of blocks and punches with various footwork thrown in. The form he did he performed well- probably the best I’ve seen him do it. But it wasn’t enough and he didn’t medal.
But here’s the thing- it was really obvious who the older kids were. Based on my off-the-cuff survey, it looks like 9 is the magic age where coordination and muscle control becomes noticeably improved. In fact, all of the kids who earned medals were 3rd graders or higher, regardless of belt level.
The boy was clearly disappointed. It will be interesting to see if he ever wants to compete again. The Wife and I won’t push him to do so. He’s at a point where he wants to win so badly that he’d rather not participate than lose. Which is weird. He’s competing at a much younger age than I ever did, so I don’t have a frame of personal frame of reference. Clearly, the other kids aren’t so concerned with winning and losing like he is. That’s about my only data point and all it means, right now, is that he’s a little different from them.
Nothing wrong with that.
Alright, ‘graft’ may be a little strong.
The boy left the Easter Bunny a note:
Thank you for all of the little gifts.
And he signed it from himself. He left it along with a glass of water (the Easter Bunny doesn’t drink milk) and some carrots (which might be left over from Christmas when we had them for the reindeer- hopefully, the Easter Bunny doesn’t know). The assumption that he’ll be getting gifts is almost a bit too much.
I can’t say he behaved particularly poorly today, although there was one period where I blew my stack at both kids, more for affect than anything. The Wife has asked them to put their clothes away. Seems simple enough- not a lot of room to over interpret or misinterpret that request. Well, 40 minutes later of banging around, screaming and slamming doors, their clothes still weren’t put away. The Wife asked them a 2nd time and is was final door slam where I stepped in. I gave them 10 minutes to get the clothes put away and the dinner table set. If they couldn’t get those done, they were both going to bed early. Also, any more door slamming and they went to bed early.
No more door slamming, clothes put away, table set; all with time to spare.
Maybe he was trying to cover his bases.
I spent the better part of the day splitting firewood. With my elbow surgery, that was a significant project which languished through the Winter months. I tried to work on it at one point, but my arm started getting sore. Thus, I figured best to lay off. With the Winter being so lame, it worked out fine since I didn’t need to worry about dipping into the newly chopped firewood.
Before I went out, I made sure to inform the kids they would be assisting me. I wasn’t looking for much- mainly, help with loading the chopped wood into the wheelbarrow so it could be taken over to the pile for stacking.
All told, the kids stuck it out for almost 4 hours worth of work. And not the most fun kind of work either. Lugging firewood from one pile to another pretty much exemplifies tedium. At one point, they were making a game of it, trying to move the chopped wood faster than I could create more. They lost steam for the last hour or so, with the lass basically checking out about an hour before I finally stopped.
She was rolling around on the ground, pretending to sneak up on the pile, or something like that. That was a pretty good sign that she’d had it.
The boy stuck it out until the end. I did have to help him with getting the last of the chopped wood stacked, but he didn’t complain or whine the entire time.
Despite the success with getting them to pitch in, the thing that really struck me was how quickly they decided that their work wasn’t for free. Throughout much of the day, they wanted to know how much it was worth. Would they get money for their school’s mini-mall next week? Was it worth extra DS time? Could they play the Wii?
And here it comes… When I was a kid helping out with some type of chore at home, I never expected my parents to reward me for the work. I did it because it was expected of me. The difference between myself and my kids struck me.
I suspect their mild form of extortion is a result of the current trends where kids are rewarded with something when they do something right. Or, at least, not wrong or destructive. Kids are smart enough to extrapolate that meager reward early on to more self serving rewards later.
They’ll have to relearn those habits though, or they’ll end up being disappointed more often than not.
The boy has tests each week for math. Each week, the Wife or I try to work with him so that he’s ready for the tests. Emphasis on try. Now that he has free time, he’s somewhat selfish about it and would rather spend it playing than spend it going over math. Now, it’s not like we’re asking him to spend hours and hours on addition and subtraction. Rather, we’re just trying to help him polish off his skills. Some extra questions here, a few minutes there. That sort of thing.
Well, a couple of nights ago we had him take a practice version of the latest iteration of his math test. It’s a 4 minute test where he’s got a goal of answering 100 problems. The Wife set him up with a practice test and set a timer for him and off he went.
He grumbled and snarled the entire time. He didn’t want to be doing it. It was stupid. On and on and on. Finally, when it was done, he commented “I can’t wait for my sister to be in the 2nd grade so she’ll have to do this.”
Nice sentiment, huh?
Of course, the only problem with his train of thought is that the lass won’t hate it. She’ll love it. When she gets homework now in kindergarten, she comes home, sits down and starts doing it. When the boy made his obnoxious little comment, she turned to the Wife and said “Mom, I like school work.”
The boy continued to insist that things would be different once she was there. I’m pretty sure he’ll be wrong.
That seems to be the mindset of late. Everything is focused through himself. If he doesn’t like something, then no one will. If he thinks it’s stupid, then it obviously is. It’s most prevalent where his sister is concerned, which I expect to some extent.
More than anything, the Wife and I try to ignore his outbursts. Some of his statements are so ridiculous that I, try as I might, cannot hold back the urge to correct him. Even so, he just digs his heels in and plows forward with whatever he was thinking. On occasion, when he takes things too far(a little too belligerent or too smart a mouth- whatever), he ends up in the hotseat with some kind of discipline.
Somewhere along the way, he’ll come to terms with his myopia. Until then, all we can do is wait.
The Wife has been outfitting me with some new clothing lately. I guess she’s tired of my, uh, well worn wardrobe. She ordered a bunch of shirts for me to try on and they all arrived today. Coincidentally, the lass had arrived home only a little earlier, so she was present to watch me try them on.
One of the shirts is a green color. Upon seeing it, the first thing the lass told me was “Dad, you can’t wear green- your not an Irish person.” The Wife and I started laughing. Her declaration was correct as far as me being Irish, but we didn’t have the faintest clue what that had to do with me wearing green.
She went on to explain that because I didn’t wear green for Leprechaun’s Day, I couldn’t be Irish and therefore can’t wear green.
I suppose that’s reasonable when you’re 6.
So earlier today, my brother (I think) suggests I try Words with Friends. I download it on my Nook, set it up and invite him to play a game. Shortly thereafter, word gets around the family and the next thing I know, I’ve got a game going with my Dad and Sister as well.
So the Wife takes an interest this evening, installs it on her iPad and invites me to play a game. So I spread word to everyone else, and now we’ve all got at least 4 games going simultaneously. I don’t know who else my Brother, Dad and Sister are playing with at the moment, but based on the way I’ve been beaten so far, I’d wouldn’t be surprised if the list was long.
Just what I needed, something else to kill time with.
Had what turned out to be my final post-surgery checkup for my elbow today. Can’t say I’m surprised as there’s been nothing to report on since the brace came off several months ago. I told the doctor the same thing I’ve been telling people who ask- I’m at the point where if you hadn’t known I had the surgery, you’d never know I had surgery. There’s weakness, but the strength I had doesn’t come back in a month’s time. Or 2 month’s, for that matter.
They did say “If anything else comes up, give us a call.” Here’s to hoping I don’t have to do that.
Amazingly, I finally got a chance to do some gluing today. I’m happy to report it went pretty well, although the rear panel gave me some fits. Mainly, it was a clumsy operation for 1 guy to work through because of the size of the parts involved. But, once I got everything started, the clamps did the rest of the work pulling everything together.
Now that what I have is together, I’m wondering how the hell I’m going to get it up to the second floor. It must be close on 100 pounds, plus it’s 4 feet wide, 2 feet deep and 3-and-a-half feet tall. Plus, I still have to add 2 doors and a top with some molding. I may need to rent a crane.
Another modest logistical problem is that I couldn’t glue it up on my workbench because of the size, so I did it on the floor in the garage. Technically, on a mat on the floor in the garage. Unfortunately, that spot is right in front of my workbench, so I’m going to have to find a different location for it before I can do any more work on it. How I’ll move it without dinging it should be a fun little exercise.
I’ll try to post some pics later this week after I move it.