I’m happy to report that our little man is still destined to be as smart as Albert Einstein, if yesterday’s grant-funded study is to be believed.
And, people, I’m banking on that. After all of these sleepless nights and early mornings with Thing 2, I’m counting on a genius IQ that’s going to earn more dollars than the average NFL running back, so that I can celebrate the enormous bags beneath my eyes with a new Coach bag to carry on my shoulder.
And really? Well, I think we’re on the right path, because last week, when I referred to a shape as “a diamond,” our toddler hollered, “No, Mom! It’s NOT a diamond! It’s a rhombus!!”
I think he’s been looking over the boy’s shoulder during all the geometry homework that’s happened this past week.
This is what 12:15 PM looks like, when you got up at 4:30 AM, ate a scrambled egg, a slice of toast, and a peach, and then spent the entire morning at preschool:
When I picked him up, he was so tired he said, “I can’t walk to the car. Carry me. My legs are dying.” I told Thing 2 that we were heading home for a nap, and he started to bawl, because he didn’t want a nap; he wanted bubble gum. He told me approximately forty-seven times between the school’s front doors and our Suburban that he wasn’t tired.
I had no more pulled out of the preschool’s parking lot when he quit talking, because LO! He had tipped over sideways and passed out.
And that’s when I wanted to take back all the times I fought off a nap when I was a child. I’d like a re-do. I’d actually like to go back and obediently get on my bed with my blanket whenever my mom told me to, instead of arguing that I had enough stamina to watch thirty minutes of The Flintstones.
We’re all a little tired around here today, which is why THIS is going to become my new battle cry: