About Me

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Very Small Town. No really. Don't even try to look., Alberta, Canada
I am a stay at home mother of 2 boys. I try to keep total and complete command of this kingdom. I reign tall! But they are very are skilled little ninjas waiting to take me out at any available opportunity. You would think I would learn my lesson. I don't. Every day, I return. Everyday they kick ass.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

So School Started...

School started on Sept 1st. I am so excited for my Large Fry! He is so so so thrilled to be joining the world of 'Big Boy School'.

He will not even let me hold his hand as we walk down the hall and to his classroom. He turns to me and waves "Bye bye Mommy!" I cried. I'll admit that to you. He is growing so big. I'm a wave of emotions. Doesn't help that Small Fry also turned 1 on this day. It was an emotional day.

But damnit all to hell. When did he get so PRIVATE? I asked him when he got home that day "So tell me about your first day! How did it go? What did you do?!"

Large Fry: Mommy. That's private. That's just between me and Sarah.
Me: What? You don't want to tell me?
Large Fry: No. It's confidential.

Since when does a 3.5 almost 4 year old know the word "Confidential?" Mother eff. Seriously. And it's PRIVATE? It's Pre-K for fuck's sake. Not Classified Information from the CIA. Who the hell does he think he is? 4 going on 24?

And from that day on, everytime I ask him about school he tells me it's private. Confidential. He wont' tell me about lunch, recess, school, coloring, reading. Nothing. Not one word. It's like he's gone off to CIA training for 6 hours a day. He comes back and he's like James Bond.

"I have no idea what you are talking about Ma'am."
"What school? What class"
"That's confidential information. Lunch is Code 4 Class C confidential requirement."

/end sarcasm.

Soon he will be walking around in a suit and glasses holding a cell phone making dinner dates and explaining to me after that fact. He will be able to make a martini shaker out of a broken pipe, a brick, and 2 marbles. He will be able to leap from a jet onto a pair of skiis on a waiting mountain and make it to his dinner date still wearing his tuxedo with the radio arm walky-talky in the cuff links.

And probably by the time he's 7.

He's Large Fry. Double Oh Small Stuff. He likes his chocolate milk shaken, not stired.

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