Well, it’s been exactly four days since our homeschooling year started and there has been no shortage of excitement and drama. You see, I have a three-year-old. He’s newly three, just turned in August. I’m not sure where “Terrible Twos” came from or who thinks two is worse than three, but they’re out of their minds. Three is a whole new horrible ballgame. Two-year-olds are still babyish enough to be easily corralled. A three-year-old, on the other hand, has the short temper of a two-year-old and the strength of a black belt Judo instructor. The last two times I went through this was with girls. This time, I have a little barrel-chested hulk in the making doing his level best to make sure I can’t easily remove him when I need to.
It begins with the sitting down on the sidewalk and then the dislocation of both shoulders from their sockets rendering him impossible to pick up. Seriously, how does he do that? Is this something they just instinctively know how to do — turn their armpits into a malleable, Jello-like substance that no one can grab onto? It’s a neat trick.
So then I’m left standing there over a kid lying on the sidewalk bawling while I take photos for posterity. I know what you’re thinking, “It can’t be that hard, just pick him up!” I’m a mom, which means I have at all times a diaper bag with a full thermos of milk, diapers, snacks, wipes, and extra clothes. Then there’s my purse, constantly falling off my shoulder as I try to wrestle a thirty-five-pound dead weight that is screaming at me off the pavement. Forget it.
And so my week looked like this:
What three-year-old little boy wouldn’t want to go on a replica cargo boat that sailed on the Erie Canal? Mine.
First field trip. Surely play time would be better…
Well, nothing a walk can’t cure, right? Wrong.
Maybe he’ll like the historical general store tour?
This went well, right up until he was told that the fruit was fake and he should stop putting it into his mouth.
So we’ve taken flying off our list of things we can do and now it looks like field trips are next. Are we really still in the first week of school? I think I’m going to go lie down on the floor and cry.