Lies and hysteria

I have so much going on in my head, that it’s damn near impossible to concentrate on a topic for the blog tonight.   There’s a lot of crap going on, but lets just zero on in something funny, shall we?

The Bandit is, well, he’s the Bandit.  We’ve been having trouble with him in kindergarten: he’s too social (in kindergarten? clearly he’s my child), he’s stubborn (that’s his father’s influence), and most frustrating, he’s not doing his work in class which means we have to do it for homework with the other assigned homework.  Yesterday, the very first thing said to me when I walked in the door was that he’d done all his work in class that day.  I was ecstatic.  I must have told him a gazillion times how proud I was of him.  His daddy had bought him a special treat on the way home from school as a reward. 

I bounded in to kindergarten this morning, jubulient about it. 

“So, he did all his work in class yesterday!” His teacher and I have a running dialogue on his “issues” and I considered this a huge breakthrough.

“Ummmmm,” she hesitated and my heart dropped.  It turns out he didn’t do his work in class.  It seems he’d hidden it.  My darling son, The Bandit, has come up with very complicated ways to avoid doing his work.  These schemes of his take way more time and energy than he would expend if he just did the damn work.  He really reminds me of his uncle.  My father would send my brother out to clean up the dog poop and instead of doing the assigned task in a half an hour, he’d spend 2 hours covering up each little dog poop pile with a pile of dirt.  As if my father wasn’t going to notice 20 little piles of dirt in the yard exactly where the poop was a mere two hours before. 

And the little shit let me gush over him with praise.  And he let his daddy buy him a special treat on the way home.

Deep sigh.

On an different note, I am really charmed by how Sassy’s sense of humor is developing.  She’s finally beginning to pick up on the subtleties of sarcasm.  Thank goodness, since it is my first language.  I’m also fluent in back talk and huffing loudly to express my displeasure.  Sassy’s sense of humor is subtly rising to a more sophisticated level.  Unfortunately, that is not to say she doesn’t enjoy a good knock knock joke.  Or even a bad knock knock joke.  Sadly, she’s not very discerning about her knock knock jokes.

“Knock knock.”

“Oh, not again.”  Please God, not again.

“Come on, knock knock.”

I slump in my chair, resigned.  “Who’s there?”

“Dwayne.”

I roll my eyes.  “Dwayne who?”  I sigh.

“Dwayne the tub, I’m dwowning.” HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

I’ve heard this joke 4,847,473,749 times since last Tuesday. 

But I’m also happy to report, she is getting more sophisticated.  Thank heaven, because I don’t know how much more of the knock knock jokes her father and I can take.