In which the kid's homework is already too tough for Dad.
I knew it would happen, I just didn't expect it so soon. Yes, Owen's already studying subjects for which I can't coach him.
I blame the Baby Whisperer-- you know, the book Robin and I use as the last word in parenting. Ms. Hogg will tell you that the key to avoiding a toddler melt down is rehearsal. And we're all about the trial run.
Our first example of this: New School. Robin turned in her resignation at St. Luke's a few weeks ago. Knowing it was coming and that we would be evicted from their day care on her last day, we found a new school closer to my work. We've been transitioning Owen a day a week for about a month and a half.
As sad as it was to say good-bye to the great teachers at St. Luke's, the day a week made the cut over go much more smoothly. Our only challenge? The new place doesn't serve dinner and Owen is STARVING when we pick him up. I officially drive with goldfish crackers in my car.
If I can just remember to leave them for the boy...
Robin's been far from idle with her time. She's picked up a part-time reference librarian job at UMKC, working Sunday, Monday and Thursday evenings. Yes, she's the poor woman who has to answer all those last-second term paper questions for the hordes of procrastinating students. (Sadly, she referred a stock market question to me as an "industry expert." I had no idea of the answer.)
When she isn't shaping the minds of the future, Robin's been tending her famous flower garden and, inexplicably, re-painting the kitchen. Why is this inexplicable? Because our kitchen is in serious need of a remodeling. Painting it falls squarely in the "lipstick on a pig" category. Still, as you'll see from the photo at top, she did a good job.
Owen has proven an able assistant gardener. This is another type of rehearsal as he'll be tearing up his grandmother's flower beds next weekend during the Annual Williams Family Easter Egg Hunt.
To practice, we took Owen to the local hunt at the historic Wornall House last Sunday. You can see the melee of kids in the picture. Owen did well enough, scoring several plastic ducks and rabbit kaleidoscopes. He had no interest whatsoever in the eggs.
Back at home, Robin produced some of the plastic eggs we've used in years past. We saw an opportunity to not only interest him in the eggs themselves, but teach him colors as well.
I did my best, but sadly, I'm color blind which makes me among the worst teachers of this particular subject.
Donn: "Owen, can you bring me the pink egg? That one right there."
Robin: "Uh, no, Owen. That's purple."
Donn: "Oh. Well, will you bring me the green egg?"
Robin: "That one's yellow, Owen."
Fine! We'll see who he turns to when he has to take his economics finals.
Let's hope it's not me.
