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Words that Rhyme

We will have mercifully reached the end of our 1st semester on Friday.  My students have had a bit of catching up to do.  Well.  The two younger students, who have an aversion to writing WORDS, have had to put in a bit of overtime to make sure their writing assignments are turned into their Co-op Lit/English tutor this week.

Jensen had to write a Thanksgiving essay.  I gave him a little free reign on the subject matter, so that he would stop spontaneously falling from his chair whenever I asked him to pick up a pencil.

He wrote a heart warming 5 paragraph essay about a farmer who came out one cold Thanksgiving morning to pick out his dinner from among his flock of turkeys.  But the turkeys were, sadly, missing.  He searched for clues and found an odd set of footprints around the pen where the turkeys were last seen.  He followed the footprints into his barn.  The hapless farmer heard crunching sounds behind a bale of hay.  Just then a Velociraptor jumped out, and in his jaws was a fresh turkey.  The Velociraptor enjoyed a delicious Thanksgiving dinner of turkey and slow moving farmer.

I’ve paraphrased.  And left out the more gory portions of the story.  But there you have it.  Oh.  And he drew an illustration.  I’ve not included that either.  Your welcome.

Then I heard Cailey gnashing her teeth and beating her head against the wall (okay, not really, but all the angst that would have accompanied gnashing and beating was present) over an assignment that included writing a Christmas poem.  Her sister (the writer) was feeling festive and gave her some ideas.  The following is what Cailey will be turning into her tutor:

A Christmas Rhyming Poem

Santa watches you in your sleep
Santa wants to eat your soul
You better not make a peep
Or he will swallow you whole
Make sure you’re on his nice list
So never make him mad
Don’t try to make a fist
Or things will turn out bad

I’m pretty sure I’m going to be getting an email from their tutor.  I’m guessing she will also give me a wide berth while passing in the hall.

We’re not unlike the Addams family.  Therapy is going to be very very expensive.

DeeDeeSig

Mange in the Manger

Just when I thought it was safe to be a wise man, this greeted me as I stumbled in to make the morning coffee.

Mange_in_Manger

Mary is going to be begging Joseph to check into a Motel 6.

DeeDeeSig

Eruptor, The Vomiting Dinosaur

Jensen had been complaining of ear pain and nausea.  The ear pain went away, but the nausea continued.  It’s hard to know when to take him seriously, because of all 3 children, he is the most prone to DRAMA FOR THE SAKE OF DRAMA.

And if you knew the other two children, you’d be all WHOA WOMAN, and then you’d offer me an afternoon cocktail.

Anyhoo.  One fateful evening, Jensen alerted his father that he needed to throw up.  He goes to his father because everyone knows that mommy + vomit = mommy driving quickly away in the van.  Alone.

Fiddledaddy had Jensen sitting on the side of the bathtub poised over the toilet.  A fateful mistake.  As I quickly passed the bathroom, I thought to myself, “he needs to have the kid’s head down in the toilet.”  Of course I said nothing because I know better than to give unsolicited advice when it comes to matters of vomit.

And then I heard it.  Followed by “JENSEN!….AIM.”  Another round, and then another, “DUDE!…AIM.”  There was fear in Fiddledaddy’s voice.  As the girls procured Viva extra strength paper towels, vinyl gloves, and a large garbage bag, I busied myself in the garage concocting a strong solution of bleach and water with a few drops of Orange Essential Oil for those of us with heightened olfactory senses.

As I dared to enter the house with mop and bucket in hand, a pale Fiddledaddy caught me up to speed.

DinoEvidently, as the boy was sitting on the edge of the tub, he reared his head BACK (in true dinosaur form) and let loose with a week’s worth of groceries, all while roaring and shaking his head back and forth.  And then he repeated the performance.

Very little actually made it into the toilet.

We are going to have to re-paint.  Or maybe move.

Even though this was an isolated episode, he still continued to complain of nausea.  I suspected an inner ear infection.  A trip to Urgent Care confirmed my suspicions.  His complaints have lessened after a round of antibiotics.

Almost.

On Friday we were treated to a fantastic Revolutionary War guest speaker at a small co-op we attend on Fridays.  About mid-way through, Jensen came up to me in a small voice, “Mom, do you think it would be okay if I throw up in Mrs. Brandon’s house?”  This after a snack of Patriotic Parfait (red jell-o, white cool whip, and blueberries).

I thought it best if we made a hasty retreat.  Good co-ops and wonderful friends are hard to come by.

I’m happy to report that no vomit entered the fray.

NOW you’re in the mood to cook for Thanksgiving.

You’re welcome…

DeeDeeSig