Over the past week, we have attended three different parent/teacher conferences. Which I guess makes sense, given that we have three different children, but still. What a damn timesuck that ends up being. Something to consider for any ongoing family planning purposes, you guys. .
All three conferences were fairly uneventful.
Ike enjoys learning about animals and seems very comfortable "exploring the classroom space." (Translation: wandering around like a hopped-up ping-pong ball.) He is going through a "big vocabulary development phase." (Translation: He never ever shuts up.) Occasionally he can be quite "independent" (stubborn, difficult, made of NO, the perfect embodiment of every 3 year old ever) but is easily "redirected" (look Ike, it's something shiiiiiny!). He is not a big fan of the Montessori "Practical Life" activities.
(Translation: Table dusting? Floor mopping? Silver polishing? WTF decade do you people think this is? Child labor laws and Dyson vaccuums. Look 'em up, assholes.)
Noah enjoys...oh, throws up hands, Noah enjoys school and has the best teacher in the universe who responds to his occasional rigidity with all the calming flexibility of a gentle, graceful birch tree, who absolutely adores him and says things like, "oh, my heart!" when describing his morning hugs, and who would also clearly CUT A BITCH who crossed, doubted or teased him. Noah is whip-smart, whip-awesome, and clearly in whip-ass hands this year.
And then there's Ezra.
Who apparently has a pretty serious crayon scalping/mutilation problem. Which is kind of a new one, parent/teacher conference-wise.
His (very lovely, very nice) teacher carefully compiled and offered this bag to us as evidence. Ezra skins and breaks All The Crayons, like, All The Time.
YOUR PERMANENT RECORD. THIS IS ON IT NOW. BOOOOM.
We were even permitted to take the bag home. Nay, encouraged. As shameful evidence, perhaps, or a conversational talking point with Ezra regarding hey, dude, could you NOT compulsively peel all the crayon wrappers off like Meg Ryan's Symbolic Apple in Sleepless in Seattle and then break them in half like something from one of the Saw movies?*
We were also informed that Ezra has been given special crayons, like big thick fat ones that 1) don't have wrappers, and 2) don't break as easily. He has also been given a special seat, the same kind of super expensive seat his big brother gets as an accommodation via his IEP, because he has a really hard time sitting still and paying attention.
(And this is why you never, EVER, even SECRETLY TO YOUR OWN SELF, start classifying any of your children as "the easy one." They will FUCK THAT SHIT UP PROPER, man.)
We did show Ezra the bag o' crayon bits and asked him about it, like, hey! Dude. This is...annoying. Could you...not?
"I don't do that anymore," he pffed. "My new crayons don't have paper. They're better crayons. Also [unintelligble] spills HER crayons all over the floor every day and that. Is. So. ANNOYING."
The next morning, Ike dumped the entire bag all over the kitchen counter and floor. That WAS ALSO super annoying, trying to sweep up all the primary bits of wax sticks and crayon peelings, especially since Ike had zero interest in participating in this particular Practical Life/Care of the Environment activity.
Noah looked up at the mess from his Minecraft book and then at me. "Those brothers of mine," he sighed. "When will they ever learn?"
*Totally just guessing, because I've never seen any of the Saw movies. I mean, I'm still making references to Sleepless in Seattle, for fuck's sake.