Almost every morning when I go into wake Cullen up, before his even opens his eyes, he screams, "No!" And I say, "no, what?" He says, "no, I don't want to go to school!" I then diplomatically tell him, "you don't have a choice, you're going." But, what I really want to say is, "listen, dude. This is the best you're ever going to have it. You go to school, hang out with cool little kids all day long, have no homework, splash in puddles, get waffles and cheerios for breakfast and take not one, but two naps a day. I would kill to have your life!"
Once we're downstairs, it turns into a battle of wills, with me almost always giving in, unless it's extreme. And what exactly does that mean? Well, it means that pretty much every day, Cullen brings in everything but the kitchen sink to school. Some days, I try to play it off like he's bringing in stuff for show-n-tell and that we've taken some liberties with the "letter" of the week. For example, this week is D, so he brought in a truck, which happened to be of the "dump" style. Wha-lah, a dump truck for the letter D. Other weeks, even I don't believe my own smoke. All last week for letter C, he brought in a pan. (Think about it...) A pan is a circle, circle begins with C and bada bing: we're in show-n-tell business. And still there are times, I just tell the teachers, "sorry, this is the only way I can get him in here." They just shrug and say, "that's fine."
So, this morning, when he decided that he wanted to take in his new cement mixer and his pan, while wearing his "bunny ears," I decided that I wasn't even going to argue. "That's fine." I said. "Just sit over here so I can get a picture, ok?" And that's "how we do" in our household; documenting all the nonsense, so
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