Skip to main content

Conunication Skills

No one warned me that I would need to retain a lawyer in order to raise my children. 

First, a little background:  Jake and I have an arrangement.  He receives one quarter for every "O" (Outstanding) he gets on his six-week report card.  The first report card I had to pay out close to $4.  This last one cost me over $10.  This kid likes money - he can be bribed to do much for a quarter.  And, he counts it up and makes sure I don't forget.  If I don't have it handy, he will meet me at the door of the daycare with his hand held out awaiting payment.

More background:  Jake's school has a discipline system.  He can lose a "blurt" if he blurts out answers or talks without permission.  He can lose an "out of seat" for, well, being out of his seat.  (I know, you pretty much had that one figured.)  Three blurts can mean the loss of a ticket.  Three out of seats means the loss of a ticket.  Really egregious offenses will mean the loss of a ticket, or you have to do "academies" to practice your manners.

My highly social child had lost quite a few tickets and done quite a few academies.  So, he and I made a deal:  every ticket he loses, he owes me a $1.  For three straight weeks, there has been no loss of tickets.

Now for the story:  Today I pick the child up and ask for the daily report.  He crosses his arms and says, "I'll tell you when we get home."  Uh-oh.  I was tired, and decided not to press for more info.  I figured there would be a meeting request from his teacher in his backpack. 

We get home, and he very seriously tells me that he is going to his room, where he is going to write me a report on his day.  I say, "Uh, ok."  He disappears for a bit, and returns with an envelope.  On the outside was written:  "Frum Jake, To Brindu".

And the note inside:  "I have lost to blrs and I have lost onw tikit and I had to do a ikadme deering my cimputr tim and I had to do now deering my baskit tim."  The translation took me awhile, but after some intensive consultation of the Rosetta Stone, here is what I believe it said:  "I have lost two blurts, and I have lost one ticket, and I had to do an academy during my computer time, and I had to do one during my basket time."  Tucked inside the note was a $1 bill. 

It's hard not to laugh when your offspring is looking up at you with such sad eyes.  I gave him the raised eyebrow and told him thank you for holding up his end of the deal,  but that I really wanted him to work hard on his behavior at school.  He nodded and gravely said, "Yes, I know.  I do not want to lose another dollar." 

I asked him to finish his homework and then put his backpack folder up.  He looked at me and said, "Don't you mean to put my folder in my backpack?  You need to work on your cununication skills, mama."  It does amaze me how much my six year old kindergartener can make me want to stick my tongue out at him.

Needless to say, this little note and dollar bill will be added to the keepsake box.  If I'm lucky, I'll get my ten dollars back in time for the next report card.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Texas, Our Texas!

Fires, tornadoes, drought, and now a hurricane.  It has been a rough time for our Lone Star State. I felt like she needed a love letter. Early in the year, fires in the panhandle had trucks come up the highways and interstates providing assistance to panhandle families who had lost family, herds, fences, and feed. Now, in the wake of Harvey, those trucks have been turned around, and the Panhandle sends them back full to the coastal families who now find themselves in need.  (Our mamas taught us you never return a dish empty.)  Our hearts ache for our fellow Texans on the coast.  We know too well the feeling of loss.   Regardless of the challenges ahead of us, we Texans generally manage to rise to the occasion.  We don't have time to worry about those things that really don't matter.  We have a job to do.  I'm proud of my state and her residents.  Those of us who trace our lineage back to the very founding of this Great State have had...

Medical Sparring

My father.  The infamous Oso.  The Bear. Just as when one is dealing with his spirit animal, one should always proceed with caution with my paternal parental unit.  Not everyone is ready for his wit and charm, but doctors in particular seem to struggle with quite how to deal with the man. In Oso's not-so-humble opinion doctors are by-and-large "quacks".  The many years of medical training they have is bunk, and they have no idea what they are talking about.  He has stretched the patience of more than one member of the AMA, leading one to proclaim my father "the most non-compliant patient I have ever seen."  And, this particular doctor used to be a prison doctor!  That statement actually exists in a medical chart.  It also happen to provide my father with a peculiar point-of-pride.  In his mind, this meant he won. With mom's passing, I have inherited the dubious honor of accompanying my father to the more important doctor visits.  W...

Sometimes, Life Ain't Fair

I generally try to keep my blog relatively light-hearted.  I poke fun at myself and my loved ones because I think it helps to keep perspective.  Sometimes we take ourselves too seriously, and we just need a reminder that life is pretty good in the grand scheme of things. But sometimes, life ain't fair. What follows is an honest, heart-felt post.  It will not be easy to read at times.  Consider yourself warned.  There are no such things as safe spaces in my world. Few outside of an FFA or 4H program understand "why" we show livestock.   Sadly, the concept of raising livestock, having any kind of inkling or understanding of how and where one's food comes from (besides the grocery store) is foreign to most, even some of you who follow this blog.  (I love you anyway, but sometimes I worry about you.) There is a fascination with our lifestyle, and I generally become the defacto ag teacher in work meetings as I explain what my kids were doing in rece...