Later today, the Mister, Hatfield and Atticus depart on the Annual Homeschool Dad/Kid Tent/No Electricity Camp-Out in Door County. They will join 45 other Dad/Kids for a weekend of fun where the Golden Rule is: No Moms Allowed. Why this rule? Because Dads let their kids do fun things that Moms generally put the ixnay on, like tree climbing and wood whittling. Other activities include hiking trails and bike trails and the annual bicycle excursion to a frozen custard shop in the nearby village.
Trees. Whittling. And Atticus, my locale-challenged "Ooo, shiny!" distracted kid, on a cliffside bike trail.
I am trying out a new anti-anxiety med just for this weekend!
In all seriousness though, this is a great opportunity that will be a ton of fun for them. If the 40 mph winds don't blow their tents into the Bay.
Kidding, Mister (man I hope he doesn't read this prior to departure.)
With the Mister and big kids gone, it leaves me solo with my 5-year old pseudo-triplets. Which should be pretty fun, if I can get Keenan to snap out of it. I don't know what set him off, but it's like someone gave that kid a big ol' dose of Butt-head meds. The entire week has been painful with him, but not like I'm-angry-and-gonna-take-you-down sort of way, but more like a slow, agonizing Guantanamo torture sort of way.
This morning, for instance, he no longer remembered what the words "shoe," "jacket" or "car." Both in English and Kreyol. And not in a blank fight-or-flight stare. But in a full-on, stare me down, lying "I don't know what a shoe is, Mom" right to my face.
So I'm thinking that this weekend, I should cordone the kid off in a sound-proof room and play our "Barney ABCs" dvd on auto-play all weekend for him, to help recall such basic vocabulary.
Kidding. That would be cruel and unusual punishment. And anways, we don't need that ol' Barney. Just Mom commenting, "Well, then, I guess your class can all look at your cool Spidey socks all day since you can't remember what a shoe is" and "Well, then, I guess you'll have to go fire up your bike to get you to school since you don't know what a car is" was enough to spark that recall.
Seriously, kid, after 13 months, doncha think you could come up with some new way to torture me? Do we really have to keep playing this "I don't remember" game? And isn't it funny how you never forget words like "cookie," "tv," and "Target."
I don't know what it has been about this past week. We've all been sick, we've all been tired, and we've all been cranky. The Mister and I included. And once we hit Monday 2:00 pm, the fun level drastically decreased and the whole week was just ick.
Prior to 2:00 Monday, I had Hatfield, Atticus and Paloma out on a Homeschool Association Field Trip to Barkhausen Preserve (when I was in school, we living-on-the-edge 3rd graders would call if Barfhousen," because always at least 1 kid would barf on the 15 minute bus ride there. And when I was a kid in school, that 15 minute bus ride always seemed like an hour. I was shocked to discover that it was so close after all.)
Hatfield split off with the older kids (hence no pics) and I stayed with the K-3rd grade crew.
We first did a Marsh Study.
Atticus was In.His.Glory.
Paloma loved it too.
After lunch we went on a Nature Trek, and Paloma appointed these two girls Her Friends.
Fortunately, they thought Po was adorable and allowed her to glom onto them (which I appreciated, because it's not like Po asked them permission or made it an option for the two girls.)
And to make the Field Trip fun for the Moms, our Park Ranger kinda looked like Vin Diesel.