How many random little bits can I cram into this post?
* We had a surprisingly nice holiday.No spats. No tension. Lots of food and even more wine (see last post, note my blushes- "muscial"? good grief.) Everyone cooperated and Patrick had so much fun with his cousins I thought the excitement might kill him. He. Was. So. Happy. To. Have. Kids. In. The. House.
* Last Tuesday I went to Patrick's first parent-teacher conference at the preschool (they are required to hold two a year to stay licensed.) During the prior week she had assessed them from a short list of different skills like counting, shape recognition, etc... . Patrick, she began, was able to recognize his printed name. Patrick, I could have told her but did not because, well, why would I, suggested that we change the "a" in his book to two "o's" and then the pig in the story would SPLOOSH! into the water rather than SPLASH! Because, in his words, a big pig like that would make more of a splooshing sound when it hit. He also looked at the word "segue" the other day, had me pronounce it, looked at it again before stating, critically, "One of us is wrong, mommy." And you can see his point. So, yes, he can recognize his name. It is his thing. Also he got all of the shapes right and the colors and he was the only kid in both classes who instantly counted all of the objects in his head and... well, you know Patrick. He's good with these school-y skills. BUT he FAILED scissors. Failed completely. She tried to have him cut a straight line and he almost took off a finger. So she suggested ways I can help him with his scissor work at home, and I was suitably chastened. Numbers are cool and all but numbers can't get you out of a brown paper bag, should the need arise.
The informative part, actually, was getting to hear about how Patrick is blossoming around the other kids. He was very shy and reserved for the first few weeks but she told me that he has come around. He is the go-to man for help with puzzles or the computers and he is always willing to play with everybody. She said he was delightful. And I was delighted. You just want your child to be happy and nice, you know?
* Speaking of schools, this morning Steve and I toured the Montessori school we had talked about last year. Steve loved it. I liked it. It has all of those nifty Montessori materials plus sixteen acres and a few alpaca. But.... I don't know. Something about the place didn't seem quite right for Patrick. If I could articulate it maybe you could help me with it but I am struggling to figure out what did not quite work for me. Maybe *I* am more of a traditionalist and I had a hard time with the apparent lack of structure? But Patrick would totally thrive? I don't know. I will have to think about it and in the meantime I think we need to look some other places, including the public school here. We have another year and a half until kindergarten but it is my nature to freakout early and often. Keeps the blood flowing.
*Hey hey! Blood flowing! I am on a sequiturial ROLL here! Speaking of flowing blood, Steve's sister, the nurse practitioner, convinced me that my stitches should come out. She only leaves them in her patients for three days, she said. She poked at mine and tsk'd and said, yep, they should come out. As I am not anxious to haul myself back to my primary care clinic where I would have to wait and would probably catch something gross, I said ok. She took manicure scissors and tweezers and some rubbing alcohol and removed the sutures. And left. And my abdominal wound promptly popped back open and is slowly leaking blood as I type (four days later.) Steve said it looks like a gun shot wound and, what with the round blackish-reddish hole, I would have to agree.
The universal lesson here is: um, don't listen to my sister-in-law.
The question is: do I have to get this thing re-stitched?