It is said that the average 4 year old asks 437 questions in a day. I’d venture a guess that the majority of those questions are the result of the answer to given to their prior question. Let’s just say, I’m glad to not be stuck in a room full of 4 year olds all day, every day.
The one that I have is more than enough.
Sometimes what the 4 year olds asks is not the question the adult brain registers.
The other morning on the way to daycare CJ asks, “Mommy?”
“Yes.” Because I have to respond or he will repeat ‘Mommy’ until I speak, even if we are the only two people and there isn’t anyone else.
“Where do spiders sleep?”
“In their web.” Seemed like a good answer.
“How do they not slide out?”
“Well, its how God made them. He made them with special things on their legs and feet that keep them on the web. And they don’t get stuck, either.”
“Why did God make spiders?”
I think for a minute and then formulate my answer that I thought would be simple enough. I explained basic ecology and how everything on the earth is in balance and everything depends on something else. And I finish my explanation and I’m very pleased with myself. Bravo mom. I knocked this one out of the park.
It’s all quiet in the backseat for a minute. Then his little voice comes back. “No. Why doesn’t He just go to the store and buy one.”
Monday, March 19, 2012
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Life Lessons from the Dojo
The other day, my eight year old, WC came home and asked if he could quit karate. Since he’s been completely obsessed with advancing to the next belt level and never uttered the slightest hint over the past year that he was unhappy (and I just signed a contract for another year). I said no. Then sat down next to him and asked what was up.
During the progression through his blue belt, he’s had to lead a class of lower belt levels. He has a more reserved nature and usually doesn’t like to draw attention to himself outside of the house (yes, this is the same child who ran butt naked across the front yard). The first time he had to lead class, his instructor warned me when I walked in. He hurried over to me and said just to let me know he had WC lead class today because he knew WC would be complaining about it. Leading and speaking up do not come naturally to WC (or me). This is good practice for him and gives him an opportunity to become comfortable.
Sure enough it was the first thing out of WC’s mouth. He complained the whole way home. I advised him that it was good for him. He didn’t buy it.
Then the second time he was tasked with leading class, he told me. “Sensei said to lead class and then he just stood there!” But he appeared to make it through without too much trauma.
The day he asked if he could quit was his third time to lead. He’d taken my advice and thought about how sensei leads the class and go from there. He’d taken the instruction to lead class seriously. He was truly upset with “his students.” He’d told one kid (a friend) that he needed to work on his kata and the kid was angered by the suggestion.
I explained to WC, that sometimes, people have a hard time taking constructive criticism from someone their own age or younger. “But, it was true,” he countered. “I wasn’t mean about it.”
“It’s a whole different thing to teach people, isn’t it?”
“Why do they have to be so dumb,” WC asked in exasperation.
“Whoa, hold the phone there…you don’t call people dumb.”
“Well, if I hold my arm like this (he gets up and demonstrates) then hold your arm like I am. Not back like this (pulls his arm back). How hard is it?”
I gently remind him to remember what it is like learning new things and not everyone learns quickly or even the same way. If they hold an arm wrong, then calmly point out the arm placement needs to be corrected. I don’t even go into it that they might be slacking because he’s their peer.
I explain to him that it takes patience to teach people. And this opportunity gives him a different perspective; he can now understand what it’s like for his school teachers. And while he is leading a class, he can also understand what it’s like to learn. It should give him an appreciation for both student and teacher.
I always knew he expected a lot from himself. This gives me insight that he also expects the best from the people around him. He’s already begun to learn that they always don’t give it.
During the progression through his blue belt, he’s had to lead a class of lower belt levels. He has a more reserved nature and usually doesn’t like to draw attention to himself outside of the house (yes, this is the same child who ran butt naked across the front yard). The first time he had to lead class, his instructor warned me when I walked in. He hurried over to me and said just to let me know he had WC lead class today because he knew WC would be complaining about it. Leading and speaking up do not come naturally to WC (or me). This is good practice for him and gives him an opportunity to become comfortable.
Sure enough it was the first thing out of WC’s mouth. He complained the whole way home. I advised him that it was good for him. He didn’t buy it.
Then the second time he was tasked with leading class, he told me. “Sensei said to lead class and then he just stood there!” But he appeared to make it through without too much trauma.
The day he asked if he could quit was his third time to lead. He’d taken my advice and thought about how sensei leads the class and go from there. He’d taken the instruction to lead class seriously. He was truly upset with “his students.” He’d told one kid (a friend) that he needed to work on his kata and the kid was angered by the suggestion.
I explained to WC, that sometimes, people have a hard time taking constructive criticism from someone their own age or younger. “But, it was true,” he countered. “I wasn’t mean about it.”
“It’s a whole different thing to teach people, isn’t it?”
“Why do they have to be so dumb,” WC asked in exasperation.
“Whoa, hold the phone there…you don’t call people dumb.”
“Well, if I hold my arm like this (he gets up and demonstrates) then hold your arm like I am. Not back like this (pulls his arm back). How hard is it?”
I gently remind him to remember what it is like learning new things and not everyone learns quickly or even the same way. If they hold an arm wrong, then calmly point out the arm placement needs to be corrected. I don’t even go into it that they might be slacking because he’s their peer.
I explain to him that it takes patience to teach people. And this opportunity gives him a different perspective; he can now understand what it’s like for his school teachers. And while he is leading a class, he can also understand what it’s like to learn. It should give him an appreciation for both student and teacher.
I always knew he expected a lot from himself. This gives me insight that he also expects the best from the people around him. He’s already begun to learn that they always don’t give it.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Dragging out the Soap Box
It’s a big world out there. It’s a beautiful thing with lots of different people and just as many differing opinions. People are free to express their thoughts and beliefs in a variety of ways. And as long as a person isn’t causing harm in the way they express themselves- I’m generally okay with it.
Even if I don’t agree with what they say, the world is big enough. I don’t have to read, listen, watch or pay attention to them. I’m free to change the channel, un-friend, un-follow or take my business elsewhere if I don’t like it. I’ve never had to resort to any of those solutions.
I’m generally not easily offended and have an irreverent sort of sense of humor, myself.
So the other day I was taken off guard by my gut reaction to a posted comment on a social site. In short the comment stated that people need to teach their kids how to sit down in public.
I didn’t respond to the comment- it wasn’t directed at me and the person who wrote it doesn’t know me from Eve. Throughout my evening, I kept thinking about the comment. It had hit a nerve.
It hit a nerve because it goes back to blaming the parent (ahem…mother) for a child’s misbehavior. Why is still assumed that any kid not acting perfect in public has a permissive parent who doesn’t do jack to train up their kid?
While there might be some parents out there who don’t give a flip about how their children act, I can guarantee you that there are more who care and are doing their best.
And don’t assume that just because a kid does not “look like a special needs kid” that there isn’t an underlying condition.
An outsider who is watching a child have a massive come apart in public doesn’t need to be concerned that the mother isn’t doing her job. You don’t know. You have no idea what is going on with that child.
Compassion not criticism is what is needed.
And back to the teaching the kid to sit down in public: I’ve been guilty of allowing CJ to stand up in a booth in a restaurant. He gets to do it when there isn’t anyone in the booth behind us or one side of the booth is up against a wall. I understand his limitations. A stranger looking across the room at us doesn’t have a clue. Would you rather have him standing quietly or sitting down and screaming?
The commenter most likely does not have children. Anyone who has children and has attempted to correct them numerous times knows the frustration behind watching a kid do something for the millionth time that you’ve specifically told them not to do. And that includes all children, not just ones with special needs. A parent can do their very best and a child still go off and do their own thing. It’s what they do. They’re kids. It’s what we did as kids, right. Anyone out there always act exactly the way your parents wanted you to? It’s easy to forget.
I thought for a while then I took to twitter and wrote: Do not judge the behavior of other people’s kids. You don’t know the whole story.
Even if I don’t agree with what they say, the world is big enough. I don’t have to read, listen, watch or pay attention to them. I’m free to change the channel, un-friend, un-follow or take my business elsewhere if I don’t like it. I’ve never had to resort to any of those solutions.
I’m generally not easily offended and have an irreverent sort of sense of humor, myself.
So the other day I was taken off guard by my gut reaction to a posted comment on a social site. In short the comment stated that people need to teach their kids how to sit down in public.
I didn’t respond to the comment- it wasn’t directed at me and the person who wrote it doesn’t know me from Eve. Throughout my evening, I kept thinking about the comment. It had hit a nerve.
It hit a nerve because it goes back to blaming the parent (ahem…mother) for a child’s misbehavior. Why is still assumed that any kid not acting perfect in public has a permissive parent who doesn’t do jack to train up their kid?
While there might be some parents out there who don’t give a flip about how their children act, I can guarantee you that there are more who care and are doing their best.
And don’t assume that just because a kid does not “look like a special needs kid” that there isn’t an underlying condition.
An outsider who is watching a child have a massive come apart in public doesn’t need to be concerned that the mother isn’t doing her job. You don’t know. You have no idea what is going on with that child.
Compassion not criticism is what is needed.
And back to the teaching the kid to sit down in public: I’ve been guilty of allowing CJ to stand up in a booth in a restaurant. He gets to do it when there isn’t anyone in the booth behind us or one side of the booth is up against a wall. I understand his limitations. A stranger looking across the room at us doesn’t have a clue. Would you rather have him standing quietly or sitting down and screaming?
The commenter most likely does not have children. Anyone who has children and has attempted to correct them numerous times knows the frustration behind watching a kid do something for the millionth time that you’ve specifically told them not to do. And that includes all children, not just ones with special needs. A parent can do their very best and a child still go off and do their own thing. It’s what they do. They’re kids. It’s what we did as kids, right. Anyone out there always act exactly the way your parents wanted you to? It’s easy to forget.
I thought for a while then I took to twitter and wrote: Do not judge the behavior of other people’s kids. You don’t know the whole story.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
The Options Are...
While the possibility of CJ attending kindergarten in the fall is slim, we still have more options than I knew.
After his daycare teacher brought up the idea of Kindergarten Readiness, I looked into it. The focus on social and fine motor skills appealed to me since these are the areas where he most lags. On the school website, I pull up the list of requirements. There my heart sank at the sight of: Student must be 5 by September, 30, 2012. And have a birth month of June, July, August or September.
CJ is a May baby. Crap-o-la. 15 days…really?
So I retired the thought for a few days in defeat. Then it hit me. Every week I take my oldest, WC, to open library night at school. Once a week they open the library after school so students can read and take computerized tests on the books- called AR. This is a requirement for every kid in the school to read and test on books. WC and I have been going since he was in kindergarten-so three years now. My point is that the assistant principal runs open library. So we’ve gotten to know her over the course of going in. It occurred to me to talk to the assistant principal- ask her about the program and how strict they hold to that whole birth month requirement and if they could make exception for a child who really needs it.
Well my conversation with the assistant principal went great. Over the course of the conversation, I let her in on CJ’s delays and sensory issues. She was wonderful. She suggested that I contact the teacher in charge of the Kindergarten Readiness program to discuss CJ with her. Then she told me something else. On Saturday the 10th they are having free screenings for children aged 3-5. If I bring him in and let them run him through a series of tests, then he might qualify for his OT through the school and possibly qualify him for other services and possibly qualify him to start kindergarten with special ed assistance or their pre-k program also admits special ed as 2nd tier admittance. The first ones admitted to pre-k are people who qualify for free/reduced lunch. We do not.
With all the above in mind, I contacted the Kindergarten Readiness teacher- via email. Explained who I was, I already have a child in the school, and I’d spoken to the assistant principal who suggested I contact her. And I explained why I wanted CJ in KR and what his challenges are. To my surprise the replied fairly quickly and we corresponded back and forth several times over the day.
Basically, if CJ qualifies for an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) then he is not eligible for KR program. But if he isn’t, she will be glad to test him at pre-registration. She has to fill her slots with June-Sep birthday’s first, if anything is left then she can admit him. And bringing him to the screening on Saturday should help with finding the appropriate placement for him.
If he doesn’t qualify for any of it, then we will stay where we are. I’ll hold him out a year.
After his daycare teacher brought up the idea of Kindergarten Readiness, I looked into it. The focus on social and fine motor skills appealed to me since these are the areas where he most lags. On the school website, I pull up the list of requirements. There my heart sank at the sight of: Student must be 5 by September, 30, 2012. And have a birth month of June, July, August or September.
CJ is a May baby. Crap-o-la. 15 days…really?
So I retired the thought for a few days in defeat. Then it hit me. Every week I take my oldest, WC, to open library night at school. Once a week they open the library after school so students can read and take computerized tests on the books- called AR. This is a requirement for every kid in the school to read and test on books. WC and I have been going since he was in kindergarten-so three years now. My point is that the assistant principal runs open library. So we’ve gotten to know her over the course of going in. It occurred to me to talk to the assistant principal- ask her about the program and how strict they hold to that whole birth month requirement and if they could make exception for a child who really needs it.
Well my conversation with the assistant principal went great. Over the course of the conversation, I let her in on CJ’s delays and sensory issues. She was wonderful. She suggested that I contact the teacher in charge of the Kindergarten Readiness program to discuss CJ with her. Then she told me something else. On Saturday the 10th they are having free screenings for children aged 3-5. If I bring him in and let them run him through a series of tests, then he might qualify for his OT through the school and possibly qualify him for other services and possibly qualify him to start kindergarten with special ed assistance or their pre-k program also admits special ed as 2nd tier admittance. The first ones admitted to pre-k are people who qualify for free/reduced lunch. We do not.
With all the above in mind, I contacted the Kindergarten Readiness teacher- via email. Explained who I was, I already have a child in the school, and I’d spoken to the assistant principal who suggested I contact her. And I explained why I wanted CJ in KR and what his challenges are. To my surprise the replied fairly quickly and we corresponded back and forth several times over the day.
Basically, if CJ qualifies for an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) then he is not eligible for KR program. But if he isn’t, she will be glad to test him at pre-registration. She has to fill her slots with June-Sep birthday’s first, if anything is left then she can admit him. And bringing him to the screening on Saturday should help with finding the appropriate placement for him.
If he doesn’t qualify for any of it, then we will stay where we are. I’ll hold him out a year.
Monday, March 5, 2012
A Glow on the Horizon
Last year when life began unraveling around the then 3 year old CJ- his behavior played hopscotch from baffling to infuriating and then heartbreaking and back again. It became apparent at that point even though he would be chronologically ready for kindergarten this year, that emotionally, socially and behaviorally he wouldn’t be able to. At that point, his developmental delay in grasp and visual motor were not yet known and threw another wrench into the mix last August.
At that point, I’d made up my mind that we were just holding him out a year. This is where he is at. I will hold him out and make sure he gets what he needs to be successful when he does start school.
I made my peace with it, in theory, very quickly. The day-to-day reality can prove challenging. Especially during the “rough times.” During the good times, I can pat myself on the back at the great job I’m doing. Then he melts down at the daycare and I almost feel like we’re back at step one. Almost. If I let myself get carried away in my own little pity party, it can last a day or two. Then I remember one very important thing. I’ve done this before- he’s done this before. He will pull through it and calm down. It may take a few days- usually does. Then we’re back to good-times again.
We are never back at step one. Even if it feels like it is, for a minute. Step one was darker and scary. There is a light- it is education, compassion, love and empathy.
I can’t say understanding. Because I don’t completely understand what the world is like for him. I’ve never lived in his shoes. I don’t get why he acts the way he does sometimes. Life would be so much easier if he just fell in line. He’s not going to do that. No point in harping on it.
The other day I was discussing CJ with his daycare teacher. I’ve had an open dialogue with her from the get-go about CJ’s challenges. We were talking about his age and chronologically being old enough for kindergarten in the fall. I was saying that with his lack of writing ability and social/emotional skills I didn’t think he was ready for kindergarten and it wouldn’t be fair to him to him to enroll him. She told me to check out a program called Kindergarten Readiness. A program for young 5 year olds; it focuses on social skills and fine motor.
While this may/ may not be right for him. There is still possibility of school in CJ’s future sooner than I ever anticipated…
At that point, I’d made up my mind that we were just holding him out a year. This is where he is at. I will hold him out and make sure he gets what he needs to be successful when he does start school.
I made my peace with it, in theory, very quickly. The day-to-day reality can prove challenging. Especially during the “rough times.” During the good times, I can pat myself on the back at the great job I’m doing. Then he melts down at the daycare and I almost feel like we’re back at step one. Almost. If I let myself get carried away in my own little pity party, it can last a day or two. Then I remember one very important thing. I’ve done this before- he’s done this before. He will pull through it and calm down. It may take a few days- usually does. Then we’re back to good-times again.
We are never back at step one. Even if it feels like it is, for a minute. Step one was darker and scary. There is a light- it is education, compassion, love and empathy.
I can’t say understanding. Because I don’t completely understand what the world is like for him. I’ve never lived in his shoes. I don’t get why he acts the way he does sometimes. Life would be so much easier if he just fell in line. He’s not going to do that. No point in harping on it.
The other day I was discussing CJ with his daycare teacher. I’ve had an open dialogue with her from the get-go about CJ’s challenges. We were talking about his age and chronologically being old enough for kindergarten in the fall. I was saying that with his lack of writing ability and social/emotional skills I didn’t think he was ready for kindergarten and it wouldn’t be fair to him to him to enroll him. She told me to check out a program called Kindergarten Readiness. A program for young 5 year olds; it focuses on social skills and fine motor.
While this may/ may not be right for him. There is still possibility of school in CJ’s future sooner than I ever anticipated…
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
They Call him the Streak...
On Saturday the kids went out in the backyard to play. While I run around the house folding and putting away laundry, I look out the window every now and again to assure that they are still in the fence and aren’t beating each other and they’ve been known to get into mischief. Like the time they took all the 2x4’s out of my neighbors driveway and brought them one at a time over to our yard in order to build themselves a house. What they thought they were going to fasten the lumber together with, I don’t know.
Of course you know that since I’m telling this story that mischief was afoot.
At some point between my glances out the window they managed to get into the garage, commandeer a shovel and return to the back yard. I’d swear it had only been a few minutes since the last time I looked out on them. But there they were- it took both of them to maneuver the big shovel- a hole in the middle of the backyard and two muddy little boys.
“What are you two doing,” I yell.
“Digging” replied the little one.
Thanks for the update, kid. “WC, put the shovel back into the garage and put your jacket back on.” It was cold and there he stood in a t-shirt. At this point, I don’t care why. Just stop.
I go back inside. A few minutes later, I check on them. And guess what? Oh my two, darling little angels were in the backyard- still digging. I take several deep breaths before opening the back door.
“Put the shovel up and get in this house, right now,” I yell. (sorry neighbors). “And you still don’t have on that jacket.” (Why did I bother to bring that up? Oh, yeah, I was mad that’s why.)
A few minutes later, two mad, muddy little boys were stripping in the kitchen. I ran them a bubble bath. “But it’s not bath time,” they protest. I gave them the ‘look.’ It only works on WC. CJ is almost oblivious to non verbal communication. So I tell him to get in.
They bathe and then use the time afterwards to run through the house stark naked. Then they each round the same corner going in opposite directions and collide- fall to the floor and CJ hits the wall.
He’s crying and WC is upset about hurting his little brother.
CJ recovers from most things extremely quickly. He barely cries when he’s hurt. He bounces off most things and shrugs it off. So it only took a minute for him to calm down. But WC runs to the laundry room to hide. I keep telling him to come back. But he announces he’s running away (still naked by the way). And this upsets CJ even more. He yells for his brother not to leave; he’s okay.
But I hear the door that connects to the garage open. No. He wouldn’t. He’s naked. Surely not. The door closed. I thought for a second he was still inside.
Then I heard him screaming. And see the flash of skin colored blur across the front window. My 8 year old is running bare ass naked across the front yard.
He runs up the front steps and starts ringing the doorbell and knocking at the same time.
I pull the front door open and he runs inside laughing.
“What in the hell are you doing,” I ask. I don’t usually use that word with the kids, but I think I get a pass on that.
He didn’t know.
Later he wrote about it in his journal. He showed me the picture he drew of what the neighbors saw. It was a stick figure with little round butt cheeks ringing the doorbell.
Of course you know that since I’m telling this story that mischief was afoot.
At some point between my glances out the window they managed to get into the garage, commandeer a shovel and return to the back yard. I’d swear it had only been a few minutes since the last time I looked out on them. But there they were- it took both of them to maneuver the big shovel- a hole in the middle of the backyard and two muddy little boys.
“What are you two doing,” I yell.
“Digging” replied the little one.
Thanks for the update, kid. “WC, put the shovel back into the garage and put your jacket back on.” It was cold and there he stood in a t-shirt. At this point, I don’t care why. Just stop.
I go back inside. A few minutes later, I check on them. And guess what? Oh my two, darling little angels were in the backyard- still digging. I take several deep breaths before opening the back door.
“Put the shovel up and get in this house, right now,” I yell. (sorry neighbors). “And you still don’t have on that jacket.” (Why did I bother to bring that up? Oh, yeah, I was mad that’s why.)
A few minutes later, two mad, muddy little boys were stripping in the kitchen. I ran them a bubble bath. “But it’s not bath time,” they protest. I gave them the ‘look.’ It only works on WC. CJ is almost oblivious to non verbal communication. So I tell him to get in.
They bathe and then use the time afterwards to run through the house stark naked. Then they each round the same corner going in opposite directions and collide- fall to the floor and CJ hits the wall.
He’s crying and WC is upset about hurting his little brother.
CJ recovers from most things extremely quickly. He barely cries when he’s hurt. He bounces off most things and shrugs it off. So it only took a minute for him to calm down. But WC runs to the laundry room to hide. I keep telling him to come back. But he announces he’s running away (still naked by the way). And this upsets CJ even more. He yells for his brother not to leave; he’s okay.
But I hear the door that connects to the garage open. No. He wouldn’t. He’s naked. Surely not. The door closed. I thought for a second he was still inside.
Then I heard him screaming. And see the flash of skin colored blur across the front window. My 8 year old is running bare ass naked across the front yard.
He runs up the front steps and starts ringing the doorbell and knocking at the same time.
I pull the front door open and he runs inside laughing.
“What in the hell are you doing,” I ask. I don’t usually use that word with the kids, but I think I get a pass on that.
He didn’t know.
Later he wrote about it in his journal. He showed me the picture he drew of what the neighbors saw. It was a stick figure with little round butt cheeks ringing the doorbell.
Monday, February 27, 2012
But You Said...
The day before Jay’s birthday, the boys and I made him a pan of his favorite chocolate brownies. He’s not a big cake person, but prefers brownies. This year it was a full team effort. WC measured all the ingredients (great for a math lesson that doesn’t feel like a math). CJ poured the measured ingredients into a bowl and they both took turns stirring.
We made dinner of some of Jay’s favorites- hamburger sliders and tater tots. His birthday this year coincided with the super bowl, so birthday dinner was appropriately matched to “game food.”
After dinner we sat around stuffed when the boys began to ask about the brownies. At that point the very thought of food made me nauseous. But my bottomless pit little guys have no problems being too full for dessert.
WC is nagging the daylights out of me. “When can we cut the brownies?”
I don’t know why I replied the way I did, but I heard myself say. “When someone cuts the cheese, that’s when.”
As if on cue, WC lets a long, loud, window rattling, earth shattering kaboom from his derriere.
It was one of those moments in which, as a parent, you don’t wanna laugh…but you have no choice.
WC happily jumps up from the table and heads across the room toward the pan of brownies.
“Boy, the cheese sure does stink when you cut it.” WC says as serious as can be.
This is what you do to paralyze your parents into being unable to stop you from getting into the dessert. We’re crying laughing, gasping for air trying to stop him and his little lackey from getting the knife out of the drawer and helping themselves. “No.” I manage to squeak out.
“What,” WC asks. “You said we could have the brownies when someone cut the cheese.”
You got me there, kid. You got me there.
We made dinner of some of Jay’s favorites- hamburger sliders and tater tots. His birthday this year coincided with the super bowl, so birthday dinner was appropriately matched to “game food.”
After dinner we sat around stuffed when the boys began to ask about the brownies. At that point the very thought of food made me nauseous. But my bottomless pit little guys have no problems being too full for dessert.
WC is nagging the daylights out of me. “When can we cut the brownies?”
I don’t know why I replied the way I did, but I heard myself say. “When someone cuts the cheese, that’s when.”
As if on cue, WC lets a long, loud, window rattling, earth shattering kaboom from his derriere.
It was one of those moments in which, as a parent, you don’t wanna laugh…but you have no choice.
WC happily jumps up from the table and heads across the room toward the pan of brownies.
“Boy, the cheese sure does stink when you cut it.” WC says as serious as can be.
This is what you do to paralyze your parents into being unable to stop you from getting into the dessert. We’re crying laughing, gasping for air trying to stop him and his little lackey from getting the knife out of the drawer and helping themselves. “No.” I manage to squeak out.
“What,” WC asks. “You said we could have the brownies when someone cut the cheese.”
You got me there, kid. You got me there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)