Saturday, February 13, 2016

My Mother's Too Busy and She Sleeps All the Time . . .

And other lessons in humility.

1. So John's in Pecos Bill, the play the third grade traditionally stages. And he's struggling with some of his lines. And his teacher asks him to spend some time with Mom practicing. And he responds, "My mother's too busy, and she sleeps all the time."

Now, I could be terribly offended by that line.

Or I could point out the rather obvious fallacy in the statement -- namely, that it's hard to be too busy AND sleeping all the time.

Or I could play the sympathy card and report that I have a raging sinus infection and while reading the daily stack of school papers dozed off in the recliner from approximately 3:51 until 4:07 when two  kids presented me with electronic devices and insisted that I sign them, declared that their entire academic was at stake, thus putting an abrupt end to the nap that brought me the title "sleeps all the time."

I am laughing this one off.

2. And that's all better than my dear friend Anna whose father forgot to pick up his suits at the dry cleaners one Friday afternoon which led his darling daughter to report, "Daddy's not in church because he doesn't have any clothes to wear." Concerned church members arrived at her parents' house with a basket of donated clothing.


3. Kids. A never-ending adventure. I cleaned out John's book bag the other day and found a hot dog at the bottom. Yes, I did. While I'm grateful it wasn't rank, I briefly worried that if John had discovered this non-rank frankfurter, he just might have taken a few bites no matter the length of time it had festered in the bottom of a backpack. It's a wonder we're as healthy as we are.

4. After the nineteenth time Ainsley left the back door open, I decided to assess a penalty. The exchange went something like this:

Me, sternly: Ainsley, you're writing sentences.
Ainsley, cheerfully gathering her supplies: I'd better get started!

Have to rethink this. #OneofTheseThingsIsNotLiketheOthers

5. So Ainsley has penned her first novel:

I laughed until I cried.

6. Tim is in the final stages of college and scholarship applications, a process right up there with buying a house and far, far different than it was thirty-four years ago when I went through it. I console myself with the fact it will all be easier with Kolbe, learning curve and all that. Gracious me.

7. Cleaning up the desk the other day, I found Ainsley's letter to Santa which reads:

To Santa
From Ainsley Dolin
I would like a pack of  dres up klos. Look on the back.
I would like a tiara and a wand. Look on the back.
I like a Winnie the Pooh costume, size six. Look on the back.
I would like an Elsa backpack and little girl ereings. A pack of them.  

And I realize that what I wrote above is, in fact, untrue. Kids are not a never-ending adventure. They're a finite, fleeting adventure and one I wish I could bottle and portion out slowly and savor joyfully

(Except for the college applications.)

Head over to Kelly's to add your Seven Quick Takes.

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