Waxing Poetic

Or verbose. I feel like writing.

I am not sure that I'm parenting Grant well. I'm just going to throw that out there. I guess I'm doing the best I can, and maybe there aren't other people who would do it better. However, I feel like a person with a degree in special education could do a better job of dealing with a four-year-old with some major impulse control issues.

Grant is amazing. He does everything with "reckless abandon." He plays, eats, sleeps,loves, learns... all with the same attitude. He just goes forward at light speed, leaving a path behind him. He's so damn smart that it thrills me to my toes. But I can't get him to stop and think before he acts. I have seen great improvement. He knows to stay close in a parking lot and look before stepping out, but if there was a Lego display on the other side of the parking lot, he'd be squashed. He knows he should apologize for tackling/hitting/spitting/biting/etc, but its a drive-by "Sorry!" flung without eye contact; he's too busy thinking about what he's going to do next.

Anyhow, after a day with my medium boy (he's not little, and he's not big, so he tells me...), I'm tired. And I feel sorry for his pre-k teacher. I send her my best every day. This being that I grew and carried and nurtured. I work with a teacher that frequently talks about how, no matter how bad a kid's behavior is or what the parents are like, that child is the best thing that parent has. And its true. I like my house, my job, my car, my crafts... but Grant and Jack are the best things I have to give to the world. So I send Grant to his teacher, the best thing I've got, and he wears HER out all day.

Today I learned that Grant has some interesting views on math. 1 and 1 makes 2. 1 and 1 also make 11.