In defense of the sloth

Someone's been brainwashing my nine-year old. Either that or they're slipping him a concoction that's changing his sweet natured self into a seasoned mouth piece.

Let's cut to yesterday. My husband's been traveling a lot on business again (last week he was in Zurich) which means I'm in single-parent mode. Anyhow, I forgot to sign a form for my son's teacher, and when he got home he was so upset he started in on all the other things I've not been doing well. No need going over his list, right? Let's just say it made no sense and here's where our discussion ended up...

"And what about last Saturday?" he said, citing yet another example. "God, Mom, you slept in until 9:30?! Are you related to Sid the Sloth? (for those unfamiliar, he was referring to a character in Ice Age.) Other mom's in the neighborhood don't sleep in that late!"

Instead of saying, "No, they don't, but they also aren't awake writing their butts off until 1:45 a.m., either," I just smiled all zen-like and said, "Actually, I like sloths" which only incensed him more. There was pause where he glared at me, followed by, "Well you aren't doing a very good job these days so maybe you should think about that."

Which was when I lowered myself to his level and said, "Look, it's not like I applied for the job fully qualified, okay?"

"I don't think they would've hired you if you had," he shot back.

Pleasant little household anecdote, hmmm? I've noticed, however, this same pattern repeating itself every fall when my kids go back to school and my writing rises to the top of my priority list. It's a big adjustment (for all of us.)

P.S. I really do love sloths. I've had this adorable stuffed sloth on my desk for five years now and he always makes me smile.
Hoo-rah to all the sloths out there!

Raising a little nonconformist...

It's Memorial Day in the U.S., but not so in Canada and that means today's a work day for me. However, before I get writing let me share a brief anecdote about my youngest. Last week he carried home one assignment four nights in a row. The first night his teacher asked him to complete a question he'd left blank. Here's that troublesome question and the progression of my son's answers as each day went by:

Q: How would you describe a poetic moment?
A: I wouldn't.

Q: Note from teacher - Please try anyhow.
A: I'm not a poetic kid. I like basketball.

Q: Same question + a new note that says, Please complete the assignment even if you aren't poetic.
A: Find a picture that makes you feel warm and write words about it. P.S. Nobody cares about this stuff.

Eye doctor misconception

I barely slept last night. You wouldn't either if you had a 165 pound dog snoring on one side (when my husband's away our dog WILL NOT sleep on the floor) and a nine year old on the other, tossing and turning like he's possessed.

That said, today is eye exam day and I'm taking both of my boys in later this afternoon (they've never had them checked before.)

This morning, my youngest came downstairs dragging a knapsack filled with clothes. He was pale and when he sat down, he said, "What time will I get out tomorrow?"

I had no clue what he was talking about so I asked what he meant. He explained that some kid at school told him when you get your eyes checked you have to stay overnight and you're only allowed soup broth and gingerale.

"That's for tonsils," I clarified. "This test only takes ten minutes. We'll be in and out before you know it."

"Really?!" he said, looking relieved.

Believing I'd now pegged why neither of us had slept well, I went back to making breakfast. On his way out the door to catch the bus ten minutes later he whispered, "Mom? Can I ask one more thing? How big is the needle?"