I have reached the point in the summer when I am ready for the boy to get another job.
Not another job, as in TWO JOBS at once, because do you know who would have to drive him double then? Um, his mother. No, I’m ready for him to get a job that comes without a specific shirt.
The boy has two blue, Adidas polos now, which are emblazoned with the golf course’s logo, and THESE are what he’s supposed to wear while he’s working. In the beginning, I was all, “Wow! Those are fantastic polos!” It’s true. Adidas was playing at the top of their varsity game when they created those shirts. But here’s the deal: The boy has two shirts for work, and he has worked every single day this week, which means…
… that I am constantly washing and drying and hanging and washing and drying and hanging and washing and drying and hanging those two blue shirts.
In other words, my tendency to lean toward the end of the spectrum where we usually have more dirty clothes than clean clothes has taken an enormous hit, because of all this laundry I have been forced to do, DAILY. Those shirts aren’t going to wash themselves up, so I might as well wash everything we’ve worn this week with them.
Yes, I should just teach the boy to do his own laundry, but I have some OCD with that. Oh, I don’t actually DO the laundry all the time, but when I do, I am a revered and honored Stain Master, who is somewhat meticulous about soap products and stain removing products and dyed products and smells. I’m afraid that if I turn the boy loose in the laundry room, he’ll ruin an entire load of his clothes, and listen, y’all. That kid has grown so much lately, I’ve bought him three entire wardrobes in the past year. Ruining an entire load of his clothes isn’t in our financial plan right now.
While he’s been at work this week, Thing 2 and I have been in the backyard, shoveling dirt into dump trucks and joining friends with Happy Meals at the park.
And then that kid came home and mowed our yard yesterday, AFTER he’d worked.
I think I owe him some clothes washing.
And maybe even an ice cream cone or nine.
While the boy was off running the front desk at the clubhouse yesterday, Thing 2 and I busied ourselves by popping over to his preschool teacher’s little farm. She has a bum calf named Matilda, who is being bottle-fed right now.
Thing 2 wasn’t quite sure what to think of that calf to begin with. He was a bit nervous around Matilda.
It’s safe to say that Thing 2 STARTED OUT nervous around Matilda, but finished with her making the cut for his list of BFFs.
On the drive home, Thing 2 wanted to know when we were going to move to a farm, so that WE could have a Matilda and chickens. The problems with US having a bum calf that needs to be bottle fed is simply this: She would become a pet for life, because I would be unable to send her to market.
Welcome, dear little calf with a life expectancy of 70 years. Please enjoy your time in our barn, where Mama will bring you a jacket when you’re cold and hug your cute neck every single day. You are here for life, and you will never be going for a ride in the big truck, because we all know where THAT trip takes a cow.
This morning, we continued to celebrate Summer Vacation by taking Thing 2 to get his teeth cleaned at the dentist’s office.
They have a cave in their waiting room, because this is a pediatric dental office. That means that they REALLY UNDERSTAND kids, and LOOK AT THIS AWESOME HIDEOUT WE HAVE FOR YOU WHILE YOU WAIT!
The hygienist collected Thing 2 from the waiting room, and it was off to the races, with bubblegum-flavored toothpaste and fluoride, and a full rundown on how all of her equipment works. Have I ever mentioned that four year olds ask a lot of questions about stuff like that?
Apparently, our four year old’s permanent teeth are on the brink of coming in. And, apparently, our four year old’s baby teeth are on the brink of loosening themselves up and falling out. The X-rays didn’t lie, because the roots on those precious baby teeth are almost fully dissolved, and the exam today showed that the front teeth are actually a wee bit loose.
And by a wee bit loose, the dentist said, “The tooth fairy is going to visit your house before the 5th birthday arrives, for sure. My guess is that she’ll fly into your home one evening later this summer.”
That man might just have well announced, “And tomorrow, we’re sending your baby to college,” for all the emotional damage his words did to me! I was a little emotional about the baby teeth being ready to come out already. The dentist explained, “It’s rare for a four year old to get loose teeth and lose them, but it happens. His big teeth have decided they’re ready to start pushing through the gums very soon. He’s got the mouth of a kindergarten kiddo right now.”
So, we left the dentist’s office with a balloon, and then went to get Thing 2’s driver’s license and register him for the draft at the post office.
But at four years old?
That’s why God gave grapes to mankind. It’s times like these when the only thing that will help is a nice glass of wine.
Y’all have a good weekend. I’ll just be over here, coming to terms with the fact that we may not be able to eat corn on the cob this summer.