The Diary of A Simple Man

I took the day off from work today, to volunteer at Sebastian's school with Teri. We were working at the book fair from 8am-1pm.

Mostly I ran the cash register, scanning books, taking money, and making change. I got to chat with the kids a lot, too. It was a lot of fun! I really enjoy talking with kids. The register was neat, a lot like a high-tech toy. I definitely want to do it again next year.

Sebastian's bus arrived early, before Teri had gone to pick him up. They told him he was a big boy and could walk to our house (it's half a block away from the stop). He was nervous, but made the walk; he was at the door when Teri stepped out.

Teri was furious. She wanted me to call the school to complain, but I thought it wiser to just ask the driver and her assistant not to do that again. If we complain to the school, their jobs could be jeopardized. And I don't want them to have a grudge against us or Sebastian! But am I being too diplomatic? He's nine, but he's awfully big and (usually) mature for his age.

Yesterday I was the Mystery Reader for Sebastian's class. I read them the first chapter of The Great Brain by John D. Fitzgerald, about the installation of the first water closet (i.e. indoor toilet) in a town in Utah in 1896. The kids laughed a lot.

Part of the Mystery Reader program is that the kids get five clues before the reader appears, to give them a chance to guess who it is. I tried to make my clues literary ones.

Today's Mystery Reader...

1. Wears the same kind of item on their face that a famous boy with a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead wears.


2. Has the same first name as one of Lucy's brothers from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.


3. Is going to a birthday party tomorrow. [All of Sebastian's classmates had been invited to the party, so I thought this was a good clue for them.]


4. Doesn't need a comb.


5. Loves to read, recite poetry and review books.

It may sound arrogant of me (because it is), but I don't think there are too many people who are better at reading aloud than I am. And I did better than usual yesterday, using voices for each character and making occasional brief explanations of historical points. I don't know why the majority of people read so woodenly! It takes so much of the fun of reading away.

At one point the father of the family announced to the watching townspeople that they would be allowed to see the new water closet in groups of six, and that each group would get a demonstration. Several of the students giggled, so I looked up at them, shook my finger, and said "I know what you're thinking!". The class dissolved into hilarity. And when we came to the section where the young narrator was acting as a barker, shouting "See the magic water closet that doesn't stink!" the kids kept joyfully chanting that line over and over.

The chapter was 23 pages long, with an additional full-page illustration. The timing was, luckily, just about perfect. When the closing bell rang, I had only two short paragraphs left to read. After I finished, several of the kids came up and chatted with me about the books that they're reading. Oh, and then Sebastian, Teri and I gave the class a copy of The Great Brain to keep.

I'm going to be a Mystery Reader at least one more time, and even more often than that if I'm allowed!

Today is Sebastian's last day of summer camp at Wee Folk. That's the day care that he went to when he was young, too. He was very sad this morning, because he knew it was his last day.

There's going to be a pizza party there next Tuesday, and he really wants to spend the day there. Teri's going to see if it is possible.

I was reading The Horse and His Boy to Sebastian last night (we recently finished The Silver Chair; he liked it very much), and he suddenly asked me to make chocolate chip cookie bars for his friends at Wee Folk the next day. It was nearly 9 o'clock, and we didn't even have all the ingredients, so I couldn't. I felt bad about that.

Ah, life! So many little sorrows. I wish I could shield him from them.

Sebastian sprouted a bean in a plastic cup in school a few months ago; it was a project. It wasn't the healthiest plant in the class, but it was doing pretty well.

The problem was that when he brought it home, it didn't stay in one place. It was left on top of the refrigerator for a while, and did poorly because there was virtually no sunshine. We couldn't put it in a window with sun, because our old cat Baby would eat it. He's hell on plants; when I bring flowers home for Teri, he'll do anything possible to get at them and eat them.

The bean plant was dying. So I put it outside, in the sunniest place possible. Sebastian didn't like that; he was afraid that some animal would eat it. We also had a lot of rain, which wasn't good for the plant either.
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I'm not sure what we'll do with the plant in the long run. I don't think bean plants live for more than a year, so I suppose we should save the one bean and plant it, or sprout it, or something. Does anyone know what you're supposed to do with a bean?

So we picked Sebastian up at school yesterday, and asked him how his day was. He told us that it was fine.

Now, if you're a parent, you can usually tell when a child is stressed and lying, and when they're totally relaxed. Sebastian was clearly relaxed. We questioned him, and he told us that he hadn't had to miss any recess that day, and that there had been no problems. Teri tried a trick or two on him - "Why did you tell him that you'd kill him again?" - and his instant response was "I didn't!". If he'd done it, we know him well enough to be sure that he would have reflexively tried to justify himself.

We were sure he didn't do it.

So I called his school, and eventually got to speak with his teacher. What she told me was confusing. As far as she could figure it out, the other boy's teacher heard Sebastian and him talking about the incident, and got confused. The original incident happened on Tuesday, and she apparently heard them discussing it on Wednesday or Thursday. The other boy got detention, but not for a second threat - rather, it was for something else he'd done, something totally unconnected with Sebastian. So Sebastian was totally innocent. And the person who called me from the school (I wish I'd gotten her name) and mentioned the possibility of suspension was way out of line.

We're very relieved!

A couple of weeks ago Sebastian told me that a boy at his school had said the "s" word. "What IS the 's' word?" I asked, to be safe. I figured it was "stupid", but it wouldn't hurt to be sure.

"S-h-i-t" he whispered. I was shocked; he hadn't known that word before.

A couple of days ago he told me that a boy at his school had said something else bad. He whispered it into my ear, spelling it: "s-o-n o-f a b-i-t-c-h". Another new one. I was particularly surprised that he spelled it correctly.

I took today as a v-day because we had an appointment to take Sebastian for a follow-up with a gastroenterologist in Providence this afternoon. He'd been complaining about stomach pains for years, and we'd taken him in a couple of months ago. They recommended a high-fiber diet; we hadn't been great about following it, but we did increase his fiber intake.

He's fine. The pain had pretty much disappeared over the past two months, so the doctor was pleased. He has gained five pounds, though, which isn't good. I've been nagging and nagging Teri about more fruits and vegetables, and I think that we really need to DO it now.

But anyway, let me get back to the subject.

Since the appointment was in the afternoon, Sebastian went to school today. Teri normally volunteers as a lunch lady on Tuesdays. I've never had a chance to try that, and since I was home, I figured "why not?".

It was pretty neat! It's only three grades, and the building they're in has an incredible amount of character. It's an old parochial school for grades K-3, quite small, and they're closing it down at the end of the school year. I'm afraid that they'll probably demolish it, which would be a terrible pity. Walking into that building is like walking into the 1950s or early 1960s. The sink is a real museum piece, with a round Insinkerator in the center. The room itself...well, I think I got a snapshot or two from the first time that I was there.

The kids ate quickly. We brought pizza to the kids that had tickets for it, and helped any kid who needed it. They were all awfully nice and sweet. It was over very quickly, in less than half an hour, and cleanup only took a few minutes. I really liked the whole experience. It makes me a little sad, though, because it won't be long before it's all gone.

He had to write nine sentences tonight, incorporating nine words. But he rushed through it, with poor handwriting (it's hard for him, poor little guy). And some of the sentences didn't really make sense. Teri and I agreed that he needed to do it over.

Man, did he kick up a fuss! He screeched and cried for a long time. We kept trying to get him to start writing, but he finally screamed so much that I sent him to his room for fifteen minutes. While he was up there he got very upset (he hates to be alone on a floor), and kept crying and calling for me. I told him he could come down and start his homework...but he was just hysterical at that point, and scared. He kept talking about a nightmare he said he'd had the night before. I finally had to stand at the foot of the stairs and tell him to come to the door. Once he saw me (he was sobbing uncontrollably) he was able to come down the stairs. It was simultaneously heartbreaking and unbearably funny, and I had to struggle desperately not to laugh or smile.

We were watching Governor Don ("the Don") Carchieri make an address about the desperate need to screw public schools and teachers in order to balance the budget. As if our schools didn't suck enough! I'm glad Sebastian is out of the public school system, and safe from all that...but I'm sorry for the many kids in Woonsocket's hell-schools who will probably suffer further cuts. We're going to destroy a whole generation on the altar of the greed of Bush's Wall Street cronies...

Anyway, Sebastian had already lost DS and Wii privileges for the evening. But he curled up on the couch. He asked if he could do his homework there, and Teri immediately said no. But I had a private conversation with her, and we agreed that Sebastian could try to do his homework there on a one-time-only trial basis. If he did a good job, he'd get to do it again.

And sure enough, he did a really good job! We had to coax and prod him a bit, of course; it was late, and he was tired. But I put a tray on his lap, and he finished the whole thing. What's more, his handwriting was much better. It was actually kind of startling.

So it looks like he'll get to try that again. Although we'll need to find something to watch on TV that won't distract him; maybe some jazz from one of the music-only station. Or we could turn the TV off, of course. :D

Sometimes he gets very upset about homework.

He gets furious that he has to do it so many nights. He hates it when we tell him that he has made mistakes, and needs to correct them. He's not like that every night, mind you; only sometimes. Handwriting homework is the worst for him. He's like me; his handwriting is pretty bad, and it's a real chore for him.

Last night was one of the bad nights. He shouted, and screamed, and finally we sent him to his room. He doesn't like to be alone on a floor; it scares him a little, I think. But I would have gone upstairs to play on the computer in the den anyway.

After a while, I heard his bedroom door open. He walked out carrying a huge bundle: his stretchy blue sheet tied into a pack, of sorts, and filled with stuff. It was almost as big as he was.

"I'm running away!" he shouted, and started down the stairs.

It's difficult to describe how I felt. It was simultaneously utterly heartbreaking and unbearably funny; he looked so cute! But I had to avoid laughing.

It was a long evening of conversation. First he said he'd be sleeping outside, under the stars. His pack was full of pillows, some stuffed animals, and a toy or two. I pointed out that there were animals outside, skunks and possums and raccoons.

So then he said he'd walk to Teri's mother's house, and live with her for five days. "How will you get there?" I asked. He told me he'd walk.

"But you don't know how to get there! Do you even know which way to go down our street?"

He looked puzzled, and then either guessed or remembered. Her house is a good five or six miles away at least, with many turns, so he'd never have made it. Then we started asking him how he would live. We reminded him of all the toys he'd be leaving behind, and all the stuffed animals - not to mention the Wii and his new Godzilla Unleashed game.

A period of thinking followed.

Eventually he told me that he would run away in his own room, by setting up a campsite and sleeping on the floor. But the floor, though covered with a soft carpet, was still not comfortable enough for sleeping. So he set up pillows at the foot of his bed, and made a place for me to sleep beside him. He assigned a spot at the former head of the bed for Teri.

It was all so cute.

By the way, he did finish his homework. I wouldn't want anyone to think he'd successfully diverted us from that.

I read to him for a while, and then sang him to sleep. He kissed my broken elbow a couple of times. God, I'm going to miss this stage when he grows up.