Belated Matty-ism of the Day, #2

Last year, (5th grade) Danny got in trouble (grounded, basically) for throwing away his 5th grade band report.  He threw it away before showing it to me because he got three "U's" - unsatisfactory for playing, performance, and behavior.  

This is a whole and entire other story, but stay with me.  (Please know I made him write an apology to the band teacher, an apology of which we fought over every single word.  I wanted him to fall on his sword, but he agreed to this and this only: "I'm sorry I fooled around and didn't turn my homework in.  Next year will be better."  AND THAT WAS IT.)

I only know this because his friend - or "friend" - narced on him.  And that Danny wasn't the only one who threw his report away, but he refuses to name names.  This is another whole and entire other story.

Anyway, so no video games over the summer, until many achievements are achieved.  I made a sort of bar on a white board, and filled it in as I see fit.  When the bar filled, they would get video games.  Reading 30 minutes a day for a week.  Writing one essay a week.  Cleaning the bathroom once a week.  There's no rhyme or reason to the bar - when I think it should get filled in, it will get filled in.  But Butler boys - do what you're supposed to do.

So Danny got a hit in his tournament little league game.  This is not a normal thing - this is a huge and amazing wonderful thing.   So I filled in some of the bar.

We then get to packing for Danny's upcoming Boy Scout camping trip.  We're packing and checking the list, packing and checking, and Matt is doing what he does - sitting at the dinner table mumbling to himself about doing equations to see how far the bar has been filled after Danny's hit.  

"I'll do a fraction equation," he says.

So Danny's ready to get in the tub, and Matt emerges from the room.  

"I've done the measurements, and after Danny's hit, we are at 21%," he announces.

And then, a bit bereft:  "A mere trifle."

Belated Matty-isms of the Day #1

1 - It was approximately July 30th, after we were back from the East Coast, so deep still in summer, but with the school year beginning to peek over the horizon.

Matt, after breakfast, walked up to the calendar and studied it. 

"What day is it?" he asked.

"July 30th," I answered.

He walked back over to his seat at the bench.  Sat for a minute, reading Calvin and Hobbes.

"Summer slips through your fingers like sand," he said, wistfully.

First Day Photos

Lemon Tree/Middle School

So our boy Danny has inherited his mother's sleepyhead genes.  Never wants to get up.  Ever.  Lolls around and no breakfast, thank you, and crazy bedhead and barely getting to school on time all through Elementary school.

So suddenly we are in middle school.  Middle School.  Which starts at 8am, and somehow our child is up at 6:30am to be waiting around to walk to school at 7:15.  Which means we are there right at 7:30am, as the gates open.

Danny has not yet hit puberty, but we are trying to lead on this one.  Meaning, here's your (aluminum-free) deoderant - use it; here's your lovely lemon-scented spray from Lush - use it.  You want to be ahead of the curve on this one and just smell good and not suddenly be the "smelly kid."

So second day of middle school, Danny's up at 6:30.  Ready to go at 7:10.  I catch a whiff of delightful lemon scent that he's clearly sprayed at some point.  I say nothing (I'm learning).

We walk to school and get to the gate.  Nobody's here.  Very sparse students.  I ask Danny if he wants us to wait with him, and he says yes.  So Matt, Marcy and I sit and wait right by the front.

Kids pass by.

I should say that after the first day of school Danny starts to say something, then stops himself (which usually means it's important or about a girl).  I (learning) leave it, and then he mentions that a lovely young woman from Marengo is in every single one of this classes - Revelie, is her name.  He does the patented hand-to-mouth covering that essentially exposes Danny for caring about what he's saying.

Interesting.

So there we are on the bench at 7:30am - no friends coming in - and suddenly, a tall, lovely young 6th grader named Revelie walks through the gates into school.  She's wearing a Mickey Mouse t-shirt tucked into a black skirt, and holding a flower patterned binder on a strap across her shoulders.   In other words, what I would have worn in my dreams as a 6th-grader.

Danny plays it cool as Revelie walks in, and I, playing it very not cool, wave happily at her, and she waves back.

A moment passes, and Danny starts fidgeting.  "Are you ready to go in?" I ask.  Standing now, playing it cool, mouth trying not to smile, Danny responds, "Um, yeah, so, yeah, um, I think, um, I'm ready to go in now."

And off he wafts on a cloud of delicious lemon scent.  Good for you, Danny B.  So far, so good, with Middle School.