the drive home
I picked up Jordan at 3:38 today. I know school lets out at 3:30. Sue me. I showed up just in time to see her riding her back pack down the snow hill. It's okay, I love replacing things she destroys. She's worse than the boys. This year she has lost at least one tuque, a pair of mittens, a pair of shoes (I managed to find them in the school) and a nice sweater. In the fall I bought her a new snowsuit from Sears as well as a new pair of boots. She has worn holes in the jacket as well as all but destroyed her ski pants. I blame the lack of snow. She loves to run and slide on patches of ice. It would be nice if the ice was flanked by snow or more ice instead of concrete. I had to buy new boots a few weeks ago because she pulled the rubber bottoms right off the boots.
The worst part of catching her riding her back pack down the hill was the subsequent obligation on my part to scold her. I hate picking her up and scolding her. I much prefer "Hi Jordan! Did you have a fantastic day at school today?" It's even better when her feelings weren't hurt and some other kid didn't threaten to literally kill everyone in her little group of kids. Apparently there are a few kids who aren't of the friendliest stock.
I collect my kid, scold my kid and we drive. We finally get around to the how is your day conversation where it comes up that this one kid (whose name has come up before) is going to kill her, and at least two of her friends. I told her to tell the teacher next time. I didn't add "or just punch him in the neck." She's been scolded before for playground roughhousing.
The conversation that followed:
Tennyson: What would happen if you ate nails?
Me: (after the mommy sigh and appropriate eye roll) Tennyson, if you ate nails you'd die.
Jordan: No.
Me: Yes. You'd eat them, they'd shred up your insides and you'd bleed inside and die.
Jordan: What about boogers?
Me: What about them?
Jordan: What if you eat them?
Tennyson: Then you get sick.
Jordan: I wasn't talking to you. Mommy - what about boogers?
Me: (again, sigh) You'll get sick.
Jordan: How?
Me: And every time you eat a booger a fairy dies. So don't eat them.
I doubt it'll work.
In the next breath:
Jordan: There are no fairies.
Me: Yes there are.
Jordan: No. They're pixies.
Me: What?
Jordan: Fairies are pixies, and pixies are fairies. They're not real.
Me: What about the tooth fairy?
Jordan: Well she's real.
Me: Well isn't she a fairy?
Jordan: She's the only real one. She's not a pixie. The pixie ones aren't real.
Good grief.
Of course Tennyson spent half the drive home sniffling and making sad little sobbing sounds because Jordan didn't want to talk to him.
Fortunately I bought myself an ice capp. I may need to get back on the treadmill today, preferably over bed time.
The worst part of catching her riding her back pack down the hill was the subsequent obligation on my part to scold her. I hate picking her up and scolding her. I much prefer "Hi Jordan! Did you have a fantastic day at school today?" It's even better when her feelings weren't hurt and some other kid didn't threaten to literally kill everyone in her little group of kids. Apparently there are a few kids who aren't of the friendliest stock.
I collect my kid, scold my kid and we drive. We finally get around to the how is your day conversation where it comes up that this one kid (whose name has come up before) is going to kill her, and at least two of her friends. I told her to tell the teacher next time. I didn't add "or just punch him in the neck." She's been scolded before for playground roughhousing.
The conversation that followed:
Tennyson: What would happen if you ate nails?
Me: (after the mommy sigh and appropriate eye roll) Tennyson, if you ate nails you'd die.
Jordan: No.
Me: Yes. You'd eat them, they'd shred up your insides and you'd bleed inside and die.
Jordan: What about boogers?
Me: What about them?
Jordan: What if you eat them?
Tennyson: Then you get sick.
Jordan: I wasn't talking to you. Mommy - what about boogers?
Me: (again, sigh) You'll get sick.
Jordan: How?
Me: And every time you eat a booger a fairy dies. So don't eat them.
I doubt it'll work.
In the next breath:
Jordan: There are no fairies.
Me: Yes there are.
Jordan: No. They're pixies.
Me: What?
Jordan: Fairies are pixies, and pixies are fairies. They're not real.
Me: What about the tooth fairy?
Jordan: Well she's real.
Me: Well isn't she a fairy?
Jordan: She's the only real one. She's not a pixie. The pixie ones aren't real.
Good grief.
Of course Tennyson spent half the drive home sniffling and making sad little sobbing sounds because Jordan didn't want to talk to him.
Fortunately I bought myself an ice capp. I may need to get back on the treadmill today, preferably over bed time.
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