Some Fridays Are Like That

Sometimes you're just wandering along in your week and then one morning your eldest who ordinarily draws rather simple drawings fills a page with crayon. Your youngest reads the entire alphabet from the wall. Your middle comes to you and says, chest puffed out to there, "All. By. Myself."



So you all head downstairs, get the eldest going on math -- and this is when the youngest reads the alphabet off the wall chart. Ben gets antsy. He demands HOMEWORK!!! You think, well, okay, why not today? So you pull out "Teach Your Child to Read in 1,000 Torturous Lessons" (I'm paraphrasing there, can't remember the exact name ;) and you read the first page about how you're going to teach him to read and he says, cheerily, "Okay!!!" So you flip the page and you go through the lesson and it's like BUTTER. Sweet cream freshly churned butter. And you get to the end of the lesson and it says you're supposed to teach him to WRITE the darn leter.

Ooohhkay, so you pull the MCP phonics book off the shelf and leaf through the book until you find an m page. So you hand the kid a pencil and let him work at your desk because by now Milo is threatening to IMPLODE all over the basement if you don't teach HIM the lesson. And you do a few m's with him and then leave him alone to -- you assume -- scribble over the remaining pages of the book in pretend "school" the way he normally does. (This is WHY you have workbooks scattered everywhere. You go through a workbook really fast with the scribble method of school.)

So you do the lesson with Milo and HE goes through the lesson like butter and you're tickled pink and you get up to go check on Scribble Ben and instead you find that he has turned the page and produced . . .



and then one of your favorite people to work with calls and offers you a small job to go with the big job you already have and

IT'S NOT EVEN NOON YET!