Borrowing What You Already Own?

As much as kids enjoy experiencing and learning new things when they start going to school, they also get a huge amount of pleasure and comfort from familiarity.

Tomboy loves visiting the school library each week. Her favourite part of the visit is borrowing a new book to bring home for Mr T to read to her and her siblings at bedtime.

She has been especially excited about her book choices the last two weeks.

When I opened her library bag to see what story she’d brought home, I was a little confused. I lifted Rhino Neil by Mini Goss out of the bag and said, ‘We already own this book.’

I thought that maybe Tomboy had forgotten.

‘Yes! That’s why I got it,’ replied Tomboy quite proudly.

She was just as proud when she brought home Who Sank the Boat by Pamela Allen – another book that we already own.

Boywonder did the same thing last year when he started school. It might seem a little silly to borrow a book that one already owns, but that little bit of familiarity between school and home seems to boost their confidence.

Unfortunately, Mr T was a little disappointed when Tomboy didn’t bring home a new story to read at bedtime. Maybe I should send him to the local library to choose a couple of picture books for himself. 

The Stinky Boy

Tomboy enjoyed her first couple of days of school, but had a major complaint at the end of the second day.

I asked her how the day went and she declared, ‘There is a very stinky boy in my class!’

‘Was he farting a lot?’ I asked.

‘No.’

‘Had he pooed his pants?’

‘Noooo, he was just really stinky,’ she replied with obvious frustration at my inability to understand the ‘stink’.

‘Okay,’ I said. To avoid aggravating her further, I changed the subject to her upcoming birthday party and who we should invite.

Tomboy’s first request was, ‘Can you not invite the stinky boy?’

We’d delayed her birthday party so we could also use it as a way for Tomboy to bond with her new school friends. The boys outnumber the girls two to one, and I didn’t want her party being too big or dominated by a bunch of boisterous boys.

I explained that I was thinking of having a small party with only the girls from her class.

‘No, I want boys there too. Just don’t invite the stinky boy. He has too much stinkiness!’

We didn’t invite the stinky boy or any of the other boys. As originally planned, we invited the other five girls in Tomboy’s class and have booked a fairy to come and entertain the girls with games and face painting tomorrow.

She may still end up with a stinky boy at her party if her brother, Boywonder, and his butt are in fine form.

Kneepits and Flattered Sausages!

Boywonder has now completed six months of his first year in school. As he learnt new and exciting things at school each day, his attempts to apply his newly acquired knowledge to his everyday life often had humorous results.

Anatomy –

When encouraging the kids to wash themselves in the bath one night, I reminded Boywonder to wash under his armpits. A short while later he started to wash his legs and as he washed behind his knees, he said to me, ‘Don’t forget my kneepits!’

Geography –

We were on our way back to Melbourne (capital of Victoria in Australia) after spending a weekend in Traralgon (rural Victoria), when Boywonder woke from a short nap and asked, ‘Are we back in Australia yet?’

Food –

Boywonder must think he’s not the only one that enjoys a battered sausage from the local fish and chip shop. When we asked what he’d like to order for dinner, he replied, ‘A flattered sausage.’

Unfortunately, the last week of this exciting first six months wasn’t as amusing. As the novelty wore off, the work became harder and Boywonder realised school is not always about fun and games with his mates. He became extremely distressed when we arrived at school each day. Needing two teachers to prise my son’s hands from my arm was as distressing for me as it was for him. I was glad I had my sunnies on, so he couldn’t see my tears.

After much discussion, we discovered that he loved socialising with his many friends and wasn’t subjected to bullying. He loved playing with the noisy instruments in music, but didn’t like the dance that he couldn’t master. He loved picking a library book to bring home, but didn’t like creating the picture that one of his classmates always so kindly pointed out to him was wrong. He loved group reading with the other three kids that were on the same reading level as him, but hated the large group activity that he had trouble comprehending.

We soon realised that his confidence needed a boost. We also discovered that Boywonder believed that once you got something wrong, that was it, end of the line – a big, fat FAIL.

A week after his distress began, we managed to boost his confidence and help him understand that mistakes and practice are a major part of learning for everyone – young and old.  You can imagine my dismay when I collected him from school this afternoon and asked him if he was excited about it being school holidays and he replied with, ‘Ohhh, I want to go to school tomorrow!’

Bad Words

Boywonder came home from school yesterday and told me – quite seriously – that one of his friends said a bad word, so he told the teacher.

‘What did he say?’ I asked.

‘F*cken headen [sic] – and – he said STUPID!’ replied Boywonder wide-eyed as he said stupid.

Boywonder thought ‘stupid’ was the most offending word that came out of his mouth. He knew the ‘F’ word was wrong, but he’d never tried it at home, so he’d only heard lectures from us about how rude it is to call other people stupid. In fact, when he hears us call an inanimate object stupid because it doesn’t work properly, he goes mad at us for saying ‘stupid’.

No doubt he will start using the ‘F’ word more often to get a reaction, since we had to explain to him that any words beginning with f*ck are the worst words and that we don’t ever want to hear him say them.

I’m not looking forward to when he first hears c*nt and we have to explain that it is worse than the ‘F’ word. Kids have an uncanny knack for remembering the parts of your conversations that you don’t want remembered.

‘But you said f*ck was the worst word!’