Just Because It’s Friday…


“Hey Mommy. Is my butt still clean?”

“You mean your bottom? Clean from what?”

“My bath last night.”

“I mean, probably…why?”

“Well, I’ve touched it twice today with my hand and haven’t washed it.” (Holding up a finger.)

“You touched your bottom with that finger?”

“Oh no I touched my butt with my whole hand. Both times.”

“Hmm. Well, I guess you could smell your bottom and see if it was clean…”

“Oh MY. I sure smelled it earlier in the bathroom when I pooped. It smelled TERRIBLE.”

“I see.”

“Oh – and I didn’t flush, either – since I stopped up the toilet the other day and Daddy told me not to flush that night. You should go see if I used too much toilet paper. So is my butt still clean?”

“You should probably go wash your hands. Just in case.”


24 Hours with a Five Year Old.

The following happened between the hours of 8:30am December 21 and 8:30am December 22.


8:30am: I threw clothes at him and told him to get dressed – we had to go to Physical Therapy. After a few mandatory whines about the unfairness of having to wear clothing, he disappeared into the bathroom.

The next time I saw him, he looked like this:


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I sent him back to the bathroom to turn all the things around. I could only assume his underwear was on backwards too because what are the chances.

9am: In the car, on the way to Physical Therapy…

“Is God wearing sandals right now? Because the last time he was here he got holes in his feet and they probably hurt.”

9:05am: still in the car…

“Hey Mommy whoever wants to go to heaven should touch a power line. Because that’s how they can die.”

Such a problem solver. But maybe not that great of an Evangelist…

9:30am: Arrived at Physical Therapy…

He pulled out 4 Sour Punch Kids from his pocket and ran them back to my Physical Therapist. (Because I’m nice, I had supplied him a Ziploc bag for that treat before we left the house…after he’d been carrying them around in his hands for a while.)

11:45am: In the drive-thru line at the bank…

We were behind a ridiculously slow person, and after realizing that the other lines had turned over four times, I backed up to get in another line while saying “Good grief what is this lady DOING!!??”

To which Noah added with a huff, “O…N…G!!!”

I asked him where he heard ONG.

“Oh, you know….TV shows. And a babysitter.”

I texted Chris our son’s newfound vocabulary.

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3pm: I noticed a BabyBel cheese sitting on the coffee table – one he’d offered me but I didn’t want.

“Hey buddy – go put that back in the fridge so it doesn’t go bad.”

He looked up, surprised, and said, “But I have the rest of the cheeses in my treasure box!”


“In my box. See?”


“When did you put them in there?”

“I don’t remember…a couple of hours ago….”

5:30pm: (After putting the BabyBels back in the fridge), he apparently decided that I needed an awesome hug. I was laying on my side on the couch trying to get my neck comfortable, and he got a running start and leapt at me, aiming directly for my neck.

In an effort to protect my rather damaged neck, I instinctively threw an elbow in front of myself (oops) which caught him in the cheek.


We ended up both quite damaged in that exchange.

5:35pm, after recovering from taking an elbow…

He threw a large blanket on the coffee table, where there was a cup of water he’d insisted on bringing me.

Water everywhere, cleanup ensued.

6pm: I sent myself to my room until after the children were asleep…to “rest my neck.”


8am: Noah came running in my room, where I was still in my pajamas but had my computer out and was doing a little work from bed before getting up.

“I’m cold I’m cold I’m cold I’m cold and YOU ARE SO HOT, Mommy. You’re the kind of hot that I like.”

I suggested he get in bed and cuddle with me while I finished my work. He went back to his room to retrieve his favorite blanket, then gleefully shoved himself into my armpit.


“OOOOOOOH You are SO HOT, Mommy!!”

He dove under the covers to steal all my warmth, then peeked his head out and said,

“….I can see part of your bottom, Mommy.”

“Then you shouldn’t be looking at it!”

“But that part of you is so hot I can’t stop touching it!!”

“And why is your leg so GIANT?? I mean look at it – it goes from here to here. It’s so BIG!!!”


Five is going to be a good year for him. I can tell.

The 10 Stages of Schooling Double the Students.

Noah is now four years old.

Last year, I sent him to 3K at a preschool – for many reasons.

It was quite lovely.

This year, he is doing 4K at home – for many reasons. It will be lovely.

Dear God please let it be lovely.

We’re four weeks in, but that first week had a massive rollercoaster of emotions – for all involved. Herein lies the steps that a mother goes through when transitioning between homeschooling one very studious child and homeschooling two children, one of which is…not so studious.

1. Anticipation: The glee and excitement of First Day of School pictures. Because two students makes this opportunity so much more adorable!

Noah. Smile like a normal human. Ali. Look at me, not your alien-smile brother.


Hold your sign down. I can’t see your smile.


Thank you. Now smile.


Not bad. Hold your sign a little higher please.


I said a LITTLE.


Put your head down. Hold your sign up.


Okay fine. Good enough.


(Drops the Mic)


2. Excitement Building: The presentation, and following thrill, of the rewards sheet.

You, dear child, will get to earn REWARDS with your AWESOME school achievements!!


3. Realization: The adorable promise of a student doing their first assignment: this year is going to rock.




4. Darker Realization: the older child is going to have trouble paying attention when I’m talking to the younger child. How do teachers teach more than one child at a time? This seems completely impractical.


6. Baffledness: What does one do when the four-year-old realizes that he has the power within him to simply…not do school?

“Yeah, I’m not doing school today, Mom. It’s really just not fun.”


A dark power indeed.


7. Strategy Shift: FaceTime with Principal Daddy.

8. The Abomination of Convenient Memory.

“But I forgot how to do that.”

“You KNOW EXACTLY how to do this, son.”

“I weewy weewy forgot!”

9. Justification:

“Eh, 4K isn’t that important. Right? He’ll be able to get a job…somewhere…without 4K.”

10. This Feeling. For Everyone.


We’re working on strategies to make school more fun and palatable for everyone. Educational iPad games are a big part of that, as they were for Ali at the age of four. He will live. As will I. Dear God please let me live through 4K.