My Husband's Son

Its always been my favorite thing to say when one of my kids is misbehaving.... "Honey, YOUR SON, is making me crazy." "YOUR son just XYZ", or as is becoming more frequent, "YOUR Daughter just climbed onto the table and ...." You get the idea. Lately though, its all about Braxton. Call it his personality or blame it on Middle Child Syndrome or the fact that he is a Scorpio child, but at least once a week I get to give the report after opening his school folder. "Honey, YOUR son got in trouble for talking and interrupting the teacher again today" Shock. You just all fell out of your chairs. Dustin's son talks in class too much? Seriously? No Way! Pick yourselves up off the floor because its true. He has a child that has so much to say he just can't keep it bottled up inside. 

The first few weeks at school his daily report came home all smiley faces and GREAT DAY! I almost asked the teacher if she had my son mixed up with another child because he was always bounding full of energy at daycare and I was skeptical that he would be interested in sitting and paying attention at school. Of course this social butterfly was nearly devastated when he didn't have a new best friend by the end of the first week of PreK. Then they slowly started to show up. 

"Braxton had a little trouble settling down for nap today. He was talking to his neighbors" (HA! I've been waiting for the day that he didn't nap at school. This little Night Owl does not need a nap.)

"Braxton talked over the teacher several times today"

"Braxton spent a lot of time giving instructions to his friends after the teacher was finished. Talked to him about not worrying about his friends and letting the teacher do her job"

Then more frequently they appeared. And now they are weekly. Or were. Last week we had more than one. I try to have conversations with him, but typically I'm afraid my words of wisdom go straight Left to Right never to be bothered with other than a practiced "Yes Ma'm" At one point over the past couple of weeks we received a note indicating that Braxton had trouble getting settled for nap and that he spent an unnecessary amount of time in the bathroom prior to nap.

Me: Hey Brax, did you have trouble at nap time today?

B: No. I was fine

Me: Did you spent much time doing things you shouldn't to avoid nap today?

B: Umm. No?

Me: So you didn't go to the bathroom for too long before nap time?

B: No. All I did was stand in there and look at the walls before nap. I wasn't late.

Me: Well that's not what the note said.

B: *Insert Quick change of tone and quizzical/concerned sound* What Note?!? Let me see that Note!

Followed by "Braxton had trouble being quiet and still at nap today and kept disrupting his neighbors." Again... when DHS will provide alternative suggestions for children who do not require a nap I will feel more sorry for this occurrence, but I will be supportive and try to help the poor teacher out. She doesn't make the rules that all children must be offered nap time. I'm sure she lives for these few minutes a day and Brax is stealing her one calm and peaceful time between 8 and 2:45. 

Braxton even lost some free time in his Centers in class. 

Me: Brax did you get in trouble with Mrs. Baker for talking when you shouldn't again?

B: Yeah (Sounds defeated)

Me: Did you yell in the cafeteria?

B: Yeah. But I was just talking to my friends.

Me: That is disrespectful to talk when it is your teacher's turn to talk and to yell when everyone is trying to eat. Why did you yell?

B: Because I wanted to. (Just matter-of-factly... as if this is not a big problem.)

Me: Did you have to miss some play time in Centers?

B: Yeah, but not that much mom. It's okay. 

It's as if he thought about the fact that his particular fun times in class today weren't worth the effort of being good. How do you even discipline this when he just doesn't seem to care? Talking to friends is the Best. Thing. Ever.

Today's note; however, it takes the cake. I barely could keep myself from laughing when my husband walks in with the boys and tells me that Braxton is no longer allowed to wear spiked hair to school. WHAT? I finally got it cut so its in dress code and we are in trouble over this?! Not sure if I'm more surprised that he gets in trouble over his spiked hair the first time I fixed it spiked like he wanted it (Dad didn't do it right last Friday apparently) or that my husband has started checking the behavior folder himself so he isn't slammed with YOUR SON comments as soon as I open it. 

I mean really. I am at a loss. What 5 year old is so excited about their spiky hair that they distract their classmates in story time!?! So I decide that we are going to write Mrs. Baker an apology letter. Well, type it anyway. I was thinking it would make him have to work on letter recognition off the keyboard and think about how he was missing play time at home. I did get a sigh as he drug himself off of the couch where he was playing a game on the iPad, so he was at least somewhat bothered. Then he decided this was a fun activity and was laughing as he looked for letters. Who knows if he can even tell me why he had to write the note anymore. #ParentingFail Oh - and if you read this Mrs. Baker, he tried to draw you an Owl but it was taking too long and I wouldn't help him so he changed his picture to a bear. His art skills apparently don't allow for owls. But at least he used more than one color of crayon. Baby Steps.

Charlie's Magic

We have an Elf on The Shelf. Charlie. Charlie joined our family a few years ago and came back again after Thanksgiving to remind the kids to be good for Santa. Grayson is all in. Braxton, well he wants more answers.

Braxton: Mom, why did you move Charlie this morning?
Me: I didn't move Charlie.
Braxton: So he just appeared. (with a questioning/attitude in it tone)
Me: Yes.
Braxton: He just goes where he wants to? (same attitude)
Me: Yes. He goes and sees Santa and comes back to a new spot.
Braxton: He just appears.
Me: Yes.
Braxton: Huh. (Confused and sounding disbelieving)

He hasn't mentioned Charlie since then and did get into the morning search for Charlie. Tonight at dinner; however, he asked when Charlie would be coming back. Perhaps Santa's visit sparked something in him. 

"But What's It Called?"

Grayson is growing up. Getting Curious. Lucky Me. He has made a few comments along the way that really made us think we were going to get to have the "where babies come from talk". Age appropriate of course. Then he just moves on. He was originally concerned that when Adelyn was being born that he would have to be in the room and witness my "guts" lying on the table. He requested that we let him wait to meet her until the doctor was finished with that part. 

Then there are the days that I drive by the hospital where she was born. Alone in the car, just the two of us. Every time he has a question or comment. Every. Time. Just the two of us. Several weeks ago the conversation started again.

Gray: Mom, how do you get a baby?
Me: (Trying not to sigh out loud) Moms and dads have babies.
Gray: Dads don't have babies.
Me: No. But you need a mom and a dad to have a baby. (OOPS! Possibly just set myself up)
Gray: Yeah. You need both because dads can teach you how to play video games. Moms aren't good at that.

Well that was close. 

Last Week:
Gray: Mom, did it hurt when they took sister out of your chest (WTH he saw my belly)
Me: She wasn't in my chest. She was in my tummy.
Gray: Oh yeah. Well how can they take her out. Your Nose? (Guess he was just thinking about where openings were)
Me: No. Moms don't have babies through their noses. (At this point I was really wishing I had to have C-sections. You other moms have it easy for a while)
Gray: Well where do they come out?
Me: (cussing out the fact that I haven't learned to take a different route) Well, remember how you have boy private parts? Girls have their own so moms can have babies.
Gray: Where is it?
Me: .......By my legs. Similar to where yours are. (He recently re-informed me that I did not have a penis)
Gray: Well you can't see it.
Me: No.
Gray: Well how do babies come out?
Me: Babies are in part of your tummy that has strong muscles to push them out when they are ready. (probably set myself up more, but I didn't have a faster answer)
Gray: Well what is it called where they come out? What is a girl's called?
Me: ...remembering that you shouldn't lie or make up names... so I tell him the answer.
Gray: Ok. So are we eating at home tonight or picking a place?

How can he just move on so easily. I nearly need CPR. I feel like my chest is tightening. Why must I drive by the hospital? Why do these questions never come up when anyone else is with us? Sigh. Never Again. Never. Or, well the daycare is a couple blocks from the hospital. We can't avoid it. Think I will look around for a new daycare.