After Justin’s first attempt to skip school on the third day of classes, he tried again the following Monday. I wasn’t with him of course, but his babysitter got a real taste of the sweetness I call “Jussy”. He stood at the back of the line and said he wasn’t going to school. Then another little boy said, “I’m not going either,” and then a little girl said, “me neither.” A little revolt ensued but they were all present for Oh Canada.
His Dad sat him down that night and told him that there are certain things Mommy and Daddy need him to do so he can do the things he wants to do, like play hockey. To get some major ice time this winter, he’ll need to attend school without trouble. The next day he was first in line and held the door for the class. A big job in his mind and one he was very proud of.
The trouble? Apparently, there is a little girl in his class he wants to play with. I told him to ask her. He said he’s not allowed to talk in class. I said, “Well, just tap her on the shoulder and whisper to her.” His exasperated response, “Mom, we’re not even allowed to whisper.” My offer to write a note to the teacher received a very stern, “No.”
Last week the kids started the evening with the usual watering of my car and themselves. Then, they moved inside to extend the torture. I had told them I wanted to mow the lawn and they were both eager to help. But, dinner took longer to make and my choice of lunch was not Justin’s so, I had to skip the mowing. This didn’t go over well. Justin followed me around yelling and screaming that he wanted to mow. He smacked me on the butt from room to room as I got the wash going. When I came up the stairs, I was at my wit’s end. As I rounded the corner, I tripped and landed on the stairs, twisting my ankle.
I layed there in pain, moaning and crying. Justin stopped whining and came to me, putting his little arms around my neck, snuggling his face close and patting me on the back. “Are you ok Mommy?” he whispered sweetly, so full of concern. Korey stayed on the couch and very calmly asked, “Do we need to call 911 Mom?” I moaned that we should just wait a little bit, but it might be necessary if I can’t walk.
Walking on my knees and continuing to moan and wince with pain, Korey suggested I probably just sprained it. “Yeah,” said Justin, “You probably just sprained it…What does sprain mean Korey?” He was so scared, it broke my heart.
We made it upstairs and Justin got into the bath, urging me to put my foot up so he could cover it with a wet cloth to make it feel better. Korey followed later and got me to soak my foot in the water to relieve the pain. They both stepped up and got themselves ready for bed while I hopped around getting ready for the next day. My ankle very slowly started feeling better the closer we came to bedtime so 911 wasn’t necessary, nor was it necessary for Daddy to come over. Even still, Justin called him to let him know I had hurt my leg. I told their Dad I was just fine and there was no need to worry.
While Korey was finishing up in the bath, Justin and I lay together on the bed. At one point he asked, “Did you get hurt because I hit you?” I told him that it wasn’t his fault I got hurt, it was an accident, but I sure am glad he stopped hitting me.
I assured them by morning my ankle would be back to normal. They snuggled in and fell asleep. Next morning I think they asked once, but they could see that I was able to get around without any trouble. They haven’t asked since, about my ankle or mowing the lawn.
Are there academy awards for Mommies?