“Have the kid do a workbook.”, I told myself. “What’s the big deal?” I thought. “It’ll be a great refresher!”
Go ahead and grab that pre-3rd grade workbook full of fabulously fun and colorful work. We’ll do it together and he wont realize it’s a review.
F*ck me, that was the worst idea ever.
But not all at the same time. On one hand, i’m so glad I could deal with the squirming, boneless body chair fall this morning. What fun !!! I’m so happy we’ve begun the non-pencil holding pencil grasp 11 days before his new teacher has to see it. I’m elated to report that just the mere act of opening the workbook brought on spastic tourette’s spitting, brain melting sputtering.
What ELSE do we get to do today?!! Skin baby calves? Light my own hair on fire?!
We began with math. That came to a screeching halt when he actually requested writing instead.
“Absolutely! …. but we will go back to do one math page.”
The writing was only mildly excruciating, but the math…. oh my little baby Jesus, the math. Just stab my ears with a machete because all the hollering and wailing over TWO PLUS THREE was utterly absurd. And as if that was not enough, the real shit-kicker was the tantrum and blank look over every. other. +1 addition. fact.
Yes, kids, that’s right! We are gearing up for THIRD GRADE and my child cannot process the logic of ONE + anything.
Let me just dust off my mother of the year award and get down to business. Getting my son to process 2 + 1 was close to arguing the color of the sky with a buffalo.
I didn’t yell! I took my exaltation not in his ability to add a simple math fact, but the fact that I managed not to lose my shit.
How could I not? !! I don’t know. Perhaps the last ten weeks and two days of quiet peaceful relaxation with two children running tornadoes around this house and yard was enough to calm my overworked mind. You know, summer break? That tranquil, simple, easy time of year where every day is an open unwritten book [of spells] of possibilities [of punishment] and wonder.
So the bad news is I now have to suffer the consequences of giving my son’s brain a two month break from anything and everything resembling school work. The good news is his new teacher at his new school will only have to deal with a half rabid animal come Sept 2nd and not a full blown frothing, flopping, falling, and flailing beast.
ELEVEN MORE DAYS!