Snack time the other night. No cookies, thank you, but I will take that pear! And he really, really wanted the whole thing (mommy snuck some for herself).
I went to pick him up at preschool the other day and got there a bit early in time to see the kids walking back from the Library. Now, I spend a LOT of time with this kid and there is absolutely few moments where I would consider him to be under control, but here’s one teacher (Vicky!) walking not one, but a half dozen 4yr olds a whole block back from the library including crossing a busy street. Zane even saw me (my fault) and thought about breaking out of the pack, but she got him to resume holding on and walking with the rest of the kids.
I’ll let you in on a secret, there have been a few “I’ll tell Ms. Vicky” moments in the house. It works.
Shortly after that we went to the town barn to pick up some sand for our driveway. If I was a smart parent we would be doing this, oh, three or four times a week! We’d say things like, “and if you behave maybe we’ll go to the HUGE sand pile!” and he’d be the best behaved kid in the world.
Our final story for today is from the weekend after Zane and I went for a long swim. He wanted to get a donut and since it had been a long time we stopped and did just that. He picked the pink frosting one with sprinkles, of course (vivid is best!), and while I was waiting to pay I told him to go sit at one of the tables. They have a half dozen small two-person tables along the back wall, a couple I couldn’t see, and he disappeared around the corner. When I went back there I found that all of the tables were empty except for the one Zane was sitting at … across from an old Russian woman. She was as surprised as I was, especially considering that he was just sitting there nonchalantly eating away at his donut, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
The lady chatted with him a little bit, not all of which I understood, but apparently she asked if he wanted some milk and he said yes. She turned and handed me two bucks with instructions to go buy some chocolate milk (for the poor scrawny boy, was the subtext I heard in my head), which I tried to refuse but she was an old Russian Grandmother and I was just the scrawny kid’s dad and had no chance. He took two sips and that was that (take that, Granny!). Still, he thanked her very nicely and was a total gentleman, even though he probably spent too much time trying to explain angry birds to her.