Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Our First Day of School - my son tries to kill me!

Okay, he didn't mean to. And it wasn't related to school. But it was still funny.
School first!
Kittyboy loves sitting at his yellow plastic desk from Hobby Lobby, and I've got enough of a variety of STUFF that doing everything in five minute chunks keeps him happy. Read a book, do a puzzle, try to match cards for a bit, do the puzzle again, read another book. I like my set-up with six clear drawers, because he can just jump up when he's done and grab what he wants to do next, we don't have to guess, so that eliminates a potential frustration. We are trying what Misty advised to lengthen his tolerance of sitting - "Okay, one more, and then we can be all done," and it works okay.
I will post pictures, when the household computer is either working or replaced (I'm on my little XO laptop and can't get photos uploaded), of Kittyboy with his icon cards, listening to the daily readings from Husband's phone. That's going to be the start of the day - not readings during breakfast anymore, but at his desk. Great start to the day!
Thursday I will ask Ginny just out of curiosity, how do you test for colorblindness, and at what age? It just struck me today that some colors, he's starting to get right, and it's not so random - but blue, red and green were all consistently blue today. Huh, odd.
And now for the attempt on my life!
Yesterday, I had Kittyboy carry all the bricks, stones, and bits of broken concrete that ring our flower beds, over to the sidewalk so that Husband could mow the grass growing in between. Today, I figured he could carry it all back. And we had gotten so much done right today - reading, playing, tidying up, trampoline time, outside time, meals with multiple food groups - and he'd get in some heavy work carrying the bricks back where they came from. I was feeling sooooo good.
Then I looked up and saw my little Samson running at me with a big helpful grin, carrying a brick at shoulder height and realized that this was one of those horror movie moments when you realize that investigating the noise in the basement was a monumental error in judgment.
Boy is strong, enthusiastic, eager to help. Finer concepts such as "Gentle" and "Careful" are academic, and easily forgotten in the heat of the moment. He used to hurt us playing, and still does sometimes without knowing it. He doesn't think ahead. And he was carrying a brick at the level of my cranium.
And like the movie character who stands and screams instead of, oh, running away, or something else sensible, I wasted precious escape time sitting there in shock, thinking...
"I did NOT think this through."
The first brick, I deflected with my hands while screaming, "NONONO STOP, NO THROWING!!" He figured Mommy screaming meant we were having fun, and was on his way back with another rock before I could get up, missing my foot with it as I scrambled backwards screaming again. The third time, I grabbed HIM, and we had a hand-over-hand lesson in Giving Nicely. I showed him how to be exaggeratedly careful (the only way to make sure he IS careful is to pretend everything's made of eggshells), and thereafter if he so much as dropped the rock into my hands instead of placing it carefully as if it were porcelain, I made him do it again. Getting masonry thrown at my head was a little unnerving.
Obviously I'm still learning how much instruction is needed sometimes! As my mom said, after she stopped laughing, "You're learning together!"

No comments: