Golden Pig Tales

We slept in a tent out back last night as something fun and exciting to do as a family. The idea excited Ezra, and he was probably the only one to get good sleep for his body is young and nimble and able to flop around on uneven hard ground and not wake-up the next day feeling like like every muscle in his body was twisted around bone. I am only hoping he didn’t like camping out back too much and want to do it again soon for it will take a while for my body to recover. But what ever pain has was worth it for some family fun.

Whether the park or the pub or the work, the school talk is a topic I find myself talking about with any other parent for any other parent seems just as wanting to talk out the frustration of schooling and their child. The talk stresses. The talk is annoying. But the talk goes on and on and will continue for years. It’s like -v- said yesterday after I had yet another conversation with a parent about schooling and kids and looked vexed. ,,It’s just the next thing to stress about. You don’t have to stress over changing diapers and cloths any more.” Which is true, and I am happy I don’t have to change Ezra’s stinky and sticky diapers anymore, but some days, like when talking with another parent about school, it would be nice to work with an issue that can be fixed with a few wipes and a clean diaper.

I had another conversation with a parent yesterday about kids and grade school. This was followed by a talk with a parent at the pub the night before about grade schools. And after talking with both parents, one who has been through the process of finding the right public/private/charter/magnet school and one who is going through the process, I have come to the conclusion that it is annoying and stressful these days to find and choose/get the right school for a kid. I am sure what ever comes of Ezra’s education we will make the best of it, and it is the parents that matter, but still. It is annoying that at such an early age if feels as if the kids entire life can be made or broke because the kid isn’t accepted to a grade school. Fortunately, we have months before we have to concern ourselves with beginning the process of finding a grade school for Ezra.

,,That Sucks,” or, ”It Sucks.” or, ”That’s Sucky” are things -v- and I say often, and I didn’t realize it until Ezra said, ,,That suck’s. It won’t hook and hang here.” With each attempt to hook the tooth bruch box on the towel hanger he said. ”That sucks…That sucks. That sucks.” Until he hooked the tooth brush box on the towel hanger.

While it was cute to hear him say That’s Sucks for the first time, and I am proud that he used the slang properly, I don’t want to teach Ezra too much slang before he can better choose for himself what words he wants to have represent himself to people.

Ezra let me know he is not my friend. There was no cause or reason or act on my part that I am aware of. It was just a fact that Ezra announced to me as fact. This is nothing new because to Ezra I am either not his friend or a bad guy or some one others shouldn’t like periodically throughout the day. It happens. It is a bit frustrating that I am the chosen object of his anger, but…Well, what am I going to do? I do want to know where he is getting this attitude from. Is it us? Is it some kid at preschool? Or is it from Thomas The Train and other cartoon shows we show him? Through my analytic analysis of life, I can’t reason why I am the bad guy.

He states facts like they are altruistic. He believes his actions to be right and good. He feels his actions are without recourse. He’s discovered name calling. He doesn’t listen. He is now insistent that his way is the right way even though most of the time he doesn’t know the way. While the attitude is cute and playful most of the time, he can be rude with his attitude. And he is only three.

This attitude comes and goes. Most of the time it is gone, but when it is here I wish it to be there, and I let him know his attitude will get him nothing, but a false sense of truth and possibly no friends.

Maybe the reason why Ezra has been hitting me is because Kalab taught him slap jack! OK, probably not. Tonight Ezra was very well behaved. Maybe it was the push-ups…

I asked Ezra if he is ready to give-up his binky when he is 3, and he replied he will be ready when he is 5.

I broke a cardinal rule that Kalab had been trying to instill in Ezra: tools are not toys. I went with Ezra to the hardware store yesterday and they had these cute little tape measures in a bin and Ezra saw them and wanted one. I agreed, and so we came home with Ezra’s little tape measure. I thought he could keep it with his little box of toy tools and that would be that. But this morning, he wanted to take it to preschool. Actually, I think I was the one who suggested taking that, in lieu of the big stuffed 6 ft long dragon that he initial asked to take. So what happened at preschool was doubly my fault then. Ezra arrived at school and was happy to measure things with his teacher and I didn’t think there would be any problems. But when I arrived to pick Ezra up this afternoon, he had 2 bandaids on two fingers on his right hand, and one little cut mark on the other 2 unbandaged fingers. He had been measuring some things with his friends and let the tape measure loose and it sliced his fingers, sort of like a bad paper cut. :(  Which just goes to show that Kalab was right all along…tools are not toys.