Can I just say that yesterday's naughty-but-nice post was pure pleasure to write? I giggled like a thirteen-year-old girl the entire time. Maybe I should be one of those erotica writers. If anything it would provide me with some wonderful ice-breaker conversation: 'So, Maven, what do you do for a living?'

'Oh, I write smut. And you?'

On second thought, I don't believe my children would appreciate if their mom was in that line of work. If Gutsy's having a rough time on the bus now imagine what an iffy career move on my part would do. I should probably stick to PG rated material.

So, back to my usual blog writing, where parental guidance is strongly suggested but not required. Still, you might want to call mommy afterwards to ask her how someone like me could be allowed to roam the streets without medical supervision. It helps to work out the big questions with your parents, kids.

Speaking of Gutsy, it appears he's flashing his little horns around at school. He was acting so sweet and innocent for a little while there. I truly thought it was something I was doing at home that caused the behaviour, as he's been so wonderful for his teacher and all the support staff.

Until yesterday, that is, when my fears of it being all about me were abolished. It appears the fangs will come out as soon as he feels comfortable in his surroundings. Lovely.

I found a behaviour report in Intrepid's bag (how smart to send it home in the sibling's bag so it doesn't accidentally get "lost" by the kid in trouble. Kudos to the school). The long and short of it is: As my six-year-old was removing his outerwear after recess he thought it would be fun to swing some of it around in a circle, which accidently struck a child and caused said child to bleed. When he was asked what happened he said he didn't know because he didn't do it.

They all saw him do it.

This is not an abnormal excuse for Gutsy as of late. The other day he punched me in the back of the leg and then said he didn't do it. It was either him or the cat, and I don't think Simba can hit that hard without some brass knuckles (which I took away from him when the neighbourhood tomcats started getting taken away in ambulances. Then we placed him in a gang rehabilitation program. Anyway, that was a long time ago and I don't like to trudge up the past. He's a good cat these days and completely off the 'nip.)

The school staff member tried to get Gutsy to tell the truth. My hooved wonder insisted it wasn't him (That's my boy! Deny 'til the end. God help us all.) He was then asked to go to the office and speak with the principal. He said 'no' and wouldn't budge.

The teacher was called. She took his hand and tried to lead him to the office. My well-behaved child refused once again.

They pulled out the big guns. They had to get the janitor/bouncer to bring him to the office. Only the really bad kids have to deal with the janitor/bouncer.

That's how we got a note home. Isn't that nice?

I have to take a deep breath and remind myself that Intrepid had his moments of school-aged terrorism, too. The teacher thought it amusing that he was so bright and yet so very naughty (must get that from his father's side. The naughty part, I mean) so she would make him write out his own notes every time he did something innapropriate. When she handed me the first one she insisted I keep them for future perusal. 'You may be upset right now, but I guarantee you'll love looking at these later!'

We have several in his keepsake box and we take them out every so often. By the end of our walk down memory lane we're all in tears - good ones. Intrepid and I dug them out just for this post and are sharing some of our favourites for your enjoyment:

I was kicking Graham. I will not kick again.

Comments: Sweet little note, isn't it? Direct, to the point, and it even comes with a comment from his teacher. We did talk to him about kicking. Did it work? See below.


Dear Mom and Dad, today I was throwing great big rocks. I will never do that again. PS: Because Jaxin who was in our class got a big cut on his head and he died. (which is scratched out by the teacher and replaced with "went to the hospital")

Comments: Intrepid says he really did think this Jaxin kid died and the teacher had to correct him after the fact so we didn't think our son was guilty of manslaughter. Also, the teacher wrote on the back and told me Intrepid wasn't the one who hit Jaxin (great name). Still, I wonder why I've never seen this boy around...


I got a problem. I was hitting Denax (??) and Corey. I have to be gentle. (the teacher then writes: I will try my best.)

Comments: Who the hell is Denax? I don't know if the teacher is writing the footnote for Intrepid or if she's stating that she's trying her best not to lose it on him for making her sit there while he writes a letter every day. At any rate, he did pretty this one up with a picture. I don't know if it's Intrepid, Corey or Denax (??) but he has a very lovely coat/flute/domino on.



Dear Mom and Dad. On Friday I had a problem. I must be gentle. I hurt a kid and when the supervisor told me to come I didn't. I should listen.

Comment: Doesn't this sound familiar? My kindergarteners don't respect authority - they stick it to the man! It must be genetic. Therefore, not our fault and something he will outgrow. Yeah. That's it. I like the teacher's note, too. She's basically telling us he's had a relapse. Maybe he was addicted to violence. Not calling his sponsor, not going to meetings... and look what happened. Disasterous. He got back on track, though. There's still hope for Gutsy if we stage an intervention.