We started school this week.
Once again, the harsh reality of juggling 5 students, a preschooler and a newborn has shattered that fantasy I conjure every summer of the loveliness of homeschooling.
I liken my children to a nest of baby birds all clamoring for food…only mine are clamoring for knowledge. That’s the fantasy. What I get is quite different. One is clamoring for food. Another one is clamoring for food, but when I try to give it to her, she cries and tells me it’s indigestible. Another one sullenly says, “OK. I’ll eat your food because it’s good for me, but I’m not happy about it.” Two are hiding with their mouths clamped firmly shut.
And, of course, the baby really is clamoring for food.
Thank goodness, it’s Friday.
In other news, George remains the cutest thing on the planet.
Mary has been doubting the existence of God. I have never had a child do this, not my 14 yo, certainly not one who is not even 5. Her reasoning is that, apparently, she asked God for something, and He did not deliver it to her. I asked her if I give her everything she wants. At first, she said I did, but when I convinced her that I really do not give her everything for which she asks, I then pointed out that I am real. That has silenced her for now.
She’ll be fun when she’s a teen.
Peter is one of my baby birds who hides. This kid has an interesting personality quirk. When he was little, we got him a balance bike. The kid was super fast on it. He loved it. We thought the transition to big kid bike would be easy, but no. He absolutely refused to ride the big kid bike. I had to force him to try it, day after day: “Just once, up and down the driveway, ok? No? Then no dessert for you tonight.”
Finally, finally, finally, I convinced him that he could do it…and then he was doing the one mile loop in our old neighborhood a minute later.
We’ve been facing the same problem with swimming. He absolutely will not let go of his
training wheels life jacket. He does cannon balls into our pool, and does his best to keep up with his siblings and their pool games. But ask him to take off the jacket for a lesson with Dad? Suddenly, he thinks playing trains or cars in the playroom is a better idea. Bill was going to work with him last weekend, but we had thunderstorms. I’m not sure this weekend will be better.
The same scenario repeats with reading. I am dragging him through his phonics books. We’re making slow, painful progress. If I could just get him to like it, I am sure that he’d be reading Tolstoy within a month. For now, he’s enjoying sounding out the word “and” every.single.time he sees it.
I have more to write, but the baby is hungry. Again.