After many years of homeschooling, I never had to ask the question, "what did you learn in school, today." I already knew. But, now since the kids are in public school I find myself asking that very question on a daily basis. Sometimes more than once per day. It is so hard to go from being in control of their education to a spectator. But, for now this is what works. And I ask the question.
I usually get typical kid answers. "Nothing."
"I can't remember."
"Boring stuff."
"Things I already knew."
The one I love the most, "We didn't learn anything, we just played kickball."
If you have school age kids, I am sure you can relate. In particular, if you have middle school aged kids, they already know everything there is to know about everything.
Today, however was very different. The 12 yr old child was in the back seat riding home from his soccer practice when the question was asked. He was in a particularly talkative mood. So, we (as the stellar parents that we are) pounced on the opportunity to strike up a constructive conversation. "What did you learn at school today (so creative)?"
.... wait for it.... we actually got an answer. Not one of those pre-programmed tele-prompted answers that we usually get. An actual, kid thought out, honest answer about his quest for knowledge in his brick and mortar school.
"I learned that Sir Thomas Crapper is known for his innovations on flushable toilets."
"Play time is over. What did you learn today?"
"I'm serious Mom. That is what I learned. Isn't that awesome."
Being the super sleuth mom that I am, I pulled out my I phone and googled Thomas Crapper. Lo and behold, it is true. Thomas crapper. He did not invent the flushable toilet, but had great success in improving it.
Thank you Caesar Rodney School district for educating my son and preparing him for the life ahead of him. No matter what CRAP it entails!!
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Military discounts and BB Guns
It might not surprise you to know that I am little crazy when it comes to coupons, discounts, local rates, internet specials and anything else I can come up with to save a little cashola. It's fairly safe to say that I don't purchase much for the original asking price. I didn't marry for money, nor did I choose a career that would be too profitable. So, I have to save somewhere. I just recently realized how obvious this problem was to others. In particular, how obvious it is to the two little people who call me "mom."
About two years ago, the boy child came upon the responsible age of ten. It is at this age that he is now a military ID card holder. He was very excited to go to the MPF and get his photo taken. He now holds in his sweaty little hands his identity. A card he freely flashes to anyone who asks, or doesn't ask for that matter. What he was most excited about, we recently learned, was the possibility of a military discount. What? Yes my boy wants to ask every clerk at every store, if they offer a military discount so he can flash his ID card. Where did he get this idea? Oh, yeah... me. So, came the discussion of the sacrifices men and women in uniform make for their country. We are not entitled to a discount. We are not entitled to any special privileges with this ID card. We are graciously given a discount by local merchants who appreciate what our daddy does for his country. Period. End of story. Quit asking for discounts.
The younger girl child chimes in. "Why do they care what daddy does for his job." The discussion continued. The bravery of the men and women who have fought and died and continue to fight so that our country can enjoy certain freedoms. Then the even bigger question comes up. "Will our daddy have to fight?" Well yes, he does. He doesn't do anything glamorous like fly fighter planes or infantry or anything like that. But, yes he has a small, but important part in fighting wars. He is a small part of the bigger system that continues to fight for our freedom. At this point her face becomes very somber. I can see the worry gears turning in her head. I have those same worries in my head, so I am very familiar with what they look like. Then finally she finds her small contribution to keep her daddy safe in "fighting these wars." I'll let daddy take my gun to work with him. Yes, she said it. She has a gun. A shiny, bubble gum pink, Red-Rider BB gun that her grandparents got her for Christmas a few years back. With that... the worries are gone and she skipped out of the room with a proud smile on her face. Problem. Solved.
About two years ago, the boy child came upon the responsible age of ten. It is at this age that he is now a military ID card holder. He was very excited to go to the MPF and get his photo taken. He now holds in his sweaty little hands his identity. A card he freely flashes to anyone who asks, or doesn't ask for that matter. What he was most excited about, we recently learned, was the possibility of a military discount. What? Yes my boy wants to ask every clerk at every store, if they offer a military discount so he can flash his ID card. Where did he get this idea? Oh, yeah... me. So, came the discussion of the sacrifices men and women in uniform make for their country. We are not entitled to a discount. We are not entitled to any special privileges with this ID card. We are graciously given a discount by local merchants who appreciate what our daddy does for his country. Period. End of story. Quit asking for discounts.
The younger girl child chimes in. "Why do they care what daddy does for his job." The discussion continued. The bravery of the men and women who have fought and died and continue to fight so that our country can enjoy certain freedoms. Then the even bigger question comes up. "Will our daddy have to fight?" Well yes, he does. He doesn't do anything glamorous like fly fighter planes or infantry or anything like that. But, yes he has a small, but important part in fighting wars. He is a small part of the bigger system that continues to fight for our freedom. At this point her face becomes very somber. I can see the worry gears turning in her head. I have those same worries in my head, so I am very familiar with what they look like. Then finally she finds her small contribution to keep her daddy safe in "fighting these wars." I'll let daddy take my gun to work with him. Yes, she said it. She has a gun. A shiny, bubble gum pink, Red-Rider BB gun that her grandparents got her for Christmas a few years back. With that... the worries are gone and she skipped out of the room with a proud smile on her face. Problem. Solved.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Shaving cream...
We have a 12 year old boy in the house. 12 year old boys you know, they do strange things. Unfortunately for the 12 year old, when mischief appears in our household, he is usually the top suspect in the case. As was the case two weeks ago in the mystery of the disappearing shaving cream.
As you all know, the husbands "military" job in Las Vegas was a tad unconventional. So, he got out of the habit of shaving daily. Since we have moved to our new base, we have also moved back into the "real" air force. He has had to step up the shaving game. Well, all of that info was probably TMI and I promise to get to the point eventually.
So his morning routine is very "basic training" style. He can get out of bed and out the door in like 5 minutes. Not that I do a whole lot of primping, but I need an hour. Doesn't matter where I am going, I need at least an hour. Irrelevant, I know. Back to the story. In order to accomplish his morning marathon, he shaves in the shower.
He noticed about a week ago that his shaving cream kept walking out of the shower. The first few days, he went to grab for it in shower and instead found it on the sink. He didn't think much of it. Then one day, he found it in the cupboard. He blamed that one on my cleaning and putting things away. Then finally one day, no shaving cream in the shower, no shaving cream on the sink, and no shaving cream in the cupboard. No, this time it had walked outside the bathroom door and decided to sit in the corner of our bedroom. Now, he knew a kid was to blame. It was either one of our two. Or possibly it was the ghost child. I am quite sure every family has a ghost child in the house. He gets into mischief of all kinds. We know it was him because neither one of my kids take responsibility for leaving the milk out- ghost child. Toilet seat up- ghost child. Or eating the last bit of cereal and putting the empty box back into the pantry- ghost child.
Giving the ghost child the benefit of the doubt, we do have that 12 year old in the house. Jared assumed that the 12 year old boy was probably curious about the whole shaving routine. Now much more appropriate timing than 10 years ago when he last tried to use the razor (another story for another time). So, he questioned the 12 year old. As the boy immediately dismissed any involvement in the walking shaving cream. The blame was quickly being shifted yet again to the ghost child- poor ghost child.
But wait, the 7 year old girl overheard the conversation and quickly raised her hand- she is still learning the rules of classrooms and raises her hand at often inappropriate times (former home-schooler :)). She confessed to the crime, "I read the back of the can and it said Caution: Flammable! Keep away from high heat. I didn't want it to explode Daddy in the hot shower." She was let off the hook. She had a very good motive. She can't help herself, she has inherited the worry gene from her mother.
As you all know, the husbands "military" job in Las Vegas was a tad unconventional. So, he got out of the habit of shaving daily. Since we have moved to our new base, we have also moved back into the "real" air force. He has had to step up the shaving game. Well, all of that info was probably TMI and I promise to get to the point eventually.
So his morning routine is very "basic training" style. He can get out of bed and out the door in like 5 minutes. Not that I do a whole lot of primping, but I need an hour. Doesn't matter where I am going, I need at least an hour. Irrelevant, I know. Back to the story. In order to accomplish his morning marathon, he shaves in the shower.
He noticed about a week ago that his shaving cream kept walking out of the shower. The first few days, he went to grab for it in shower and instead found it on the sink. He didn't think much of it. Then one day, he found it in the cupboard. He blamed that one on my cleaning and putting things away. Then finally one day, no shaving cream in the shower, no shaving cream on the sink, and no shaving cream in the cupboard. No, this time it had walked outside the bathroom door and decided to sit in the corner of our bedroom. Now, he knew a kid was to blame. It was either one of our two. Or possibly it was the ghost child. I am quite sure every family has a ghost child in the house. He gets into mischief of all kinds. We know it was him because neither one of my kids take responsibility for leaving the milk out- ghost child. Toilet seat up- ghost child. Or eating the last bit of cereal and putting the empty box back into the pantry- ghost child.
Giving the ghost child the benefit of the doubt, we do have that 12 year old in the house. Jared assumed that the 12 year old boy was probably curious about the whole shaving routine. Now much more appropriate timing than 10 years ago when he last tried to use the razor (another story for another time). So, he questioned the 12 year old. As the boy immediately dismissed any involvement in the walking shaving cream. The blame was quickly being shifted yet again to the ghost child- poor ghost child.
But wait, the 7 year old girl overheard the conversation and quickly raised her hand- she is still learning the rules of classrooms and raises her hand at often inappropriate times (former home-schooler :)). She confessed to the crime, "I read the back of the can and it said Caution: Flammable! Keep away from high heat. I didn't want it to explode Daddy in the hot shower." She was let off the hook. She had a very good motive. She can't help herself, she has inherited the worry gene from her mother.
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