Choosing my blame.

There was an open house recently at my 4-year old's pre-school. At this open house you receive the results from your kid's evaluation. They tested him on all the things he needs to know in order to get into kindergarten. Well...he didn't do so hot.

He got marked down for not knowing his phone number. Well, which number am I supposed to teach him? And first, I have to learn the phone number. That's what your phone's contact list is for, Dumb Asses!

He skips the number 13. So do elevators.

Maybe he just had a bad test day. He's new to this class and the teacher says he's shy. The shy thing is a complete bullshit act he does in front of anyone for the first time. He makes you work for a relationship with him. Maybe his dead sisters that live in his head were feeding him the wrong answers.

He's very odd about what information he retains and what information he doesn't. He can get you anywhere around town. He doesn't need to know his address or phone number. If the cop puts him in his car, he'll direct him to our house or just about any of his other favorite places in town. He knows the name of every Thomas the Train engine. However, he doesn't know our cats' names. They aren't new cats. We've had them longer than he's been born. It's like he can't tell them apart except that they don't look anything like. One is tiger striped and 15 pounds. The other is black and white and barely 6 pounds. He could care less about them, thus he doesn't need to retain that information.

My best friend e-mailed me recently to tell me about her daughter's evaluation. (Her daughter is less than two weeks older than Cody.) Her 4-year old is reading. Are you fucking kidding me? My kid can't write his name without making the "d" a "b" and this bitch is reading? And my friend is one of these obnoxious parents that has her kids' baby books filled out, photo albums up to date for each kid, journaled to her first kid while she was pregnant (insert eye roll), and when she called me from the hospital after her daughter was born went on and on about how smart she was. Newborns are a lot of things - stinky, loud, tiny, alien looking - but smart? I let her have her moment since she had just expelled a football from her body, but did make fun of her eventually for this comment. Of course, looks like she was right since she's 4 and reading!


There is always the chance that maybe I'm just not a very good parent. We semi-often do flashcards so he'll know his letters better. I thought he had those down so we had moved onto writing his letters....occasionally. Really, it has been the hubby that is better at working with him. I'm more of a...let's make up a story about Cody and Princess Mommy...kind of parent.

The other night we created a new game where he runs from one end of the toy room to the other while I try to hit him in the head with a ball. Stop judging! It was a beach ball. It didn't hurt. Although it did leave a couple of red marks, but those were gone by morning.

I don't know. I think it is those damn dead sisters in his head. They are such trouble makers.