Today, Spawnling "graduated" from his preschool program. I put that word in quotes because he'll be back for another year in the fall; this time for four days each week instead of two (thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou Gods of Maternal Alone Time! All those slaughtered goats and virgins have finally made you pay attention to me.)
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| Attitude? Spawnling? Never. |
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| The graduate and his biggest brother |
I got a little teary for a couple of minutes when they were singing their cute little songs and standing in their cute little rows with their cute little certificates. We only have one more year of having a preschooler. It's going to be hard to say goodbye to this stage of life, forever. If I could bottle up his four-year-old-ness and keep it for always, I most definitely would. Today, he told his teachers he wants to be a beekeeper/cop. Not just a beekeeper and not just a cop. He also told me that the woman who turned the corner was a "very stupid person" because she didn't use her "orange flashing lights" to tell us she was turning. At least he has the cop thing down. I admire his sense of justice.
Know what I don't admire? His tantrums. His outbursts. His unwavering attitude every time he gets tired and his filters become penetrable. Tonight, as we were finishing up some swimming pool mooching (my favourite summer sport), he decided to call his buddy "the stupidest friend ever," refuse to apologize, tell me he hates me, and then run outside, crying.
I'm contemplating chloroform and some ropes next time we go out. It would certainly make "it's time to leave" much simpler.
Anyway, since I'm still just a little bit mortified about McScreamy's departing monologue this evening, I need to remind myself why we have kids in the first place. Why we build these little yell-bots inside our bodies and let them rampage around for eighteen years under our watch.
This post is going to help.
And if it doesn't, there's always chocolate.
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| Found in Spawnling's backpack this week. Freaking adorable. |
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One of my favourite things about little kids is their artwork. Spawnling has always loved to draw, but his drawings were more like scribbles until about six months ago. Suddenly, the mess of colour became somewhat decipherable and meaningful. Here are some of his recent works:
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| A very scary monster (or me in the morning. Not sure which.) |
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| Self-portrait complete with pig snout, Wolverine claws and a bad toupee |
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| Spawnling with ebola-stricken mom and dad who are obviously bleeding from the eyes |
Gutsy is more of a gadget guy; a creator of sorts. One day, his friend R was here with his sister, E. I guess Gutsy and R were trying to come up with the ultimate weapon against poor E. They went into his room and plotted. I found this in there after R & E had gone home:
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| All her base are belong to boobs. |
But this morning - oh, this morning - I received a picture to my iPhone that had me sitting in my van on the side of the road and laughing until most of my makeup had run off my face. My friend's son, a kindergartener, brought a picture home that he had drawn. In it, he's hugging what looks to be an elephant.
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| I'm pretty sure this kind of hugging is illegal in most countries. |
... Or, at least, he's spending some sort of, uh,
quality time with the elephant. And the pachyderm seems to be enjoying it quite a bit, too, by the looks of that tongue. What a happy mammal and a very outgoing boy.
I need to, once again, thank said friend of allowing me not only the pleasure of seeing this picture, but for suggesting I blog about it. You can't make this shit up, people. You just can't. This is true, raw, somewhat suggestive art at its finest.
I would have paid any amount of money to be a fly on the wall when the teacher saw that drawing for the first time. Any. Amount. No joke.
And there you have it: This is why we have kids, and probably why teachers teach.
