And you. . .
This morning you just started counting by nines at the kitchen table. Nines.
9. . . 18. . . 27. . . 36. . . .
[pause]
Where was I?
36.
36. . . 46 [pause. . . Mama interjects 45]
54. . . 63. . . 72. . . 81. . .
I'm standing at the sink mouth open. He's a Kindergarten boy. A boy that everyone warned me (for the second time) to hold him home just one year. This is the boy who can't get dressed by himself. When you tell him to do two things at a time, he just stares at you. Sits for five minutes rolling all over the floor while he's supposed to be getting his shoes on to go outside for the bus.
Did your teacher teach you that at school?
No.
I'm always shaking my head with this boy. In shock and awe. Or frustration and ambiguity. Never quite sure what is going on in that little brain of his.
And now, I'm completely confounded.
This morning you just started counting by nines at the kitchen table. Nines.
9. . . 18. . . 27. . . 36. . . .
[pause]
Where was I?
36.
36. . . 46 [pause. . . Mama interjects 45]
54. . . 63. . . 72. . . 81. . .
I'm standing at the sink mouth open. He's a Kindergarten boy. A boy that everyone warned me (for the second time) to hold him home just one year. This is the boy who can't get dressed by himself. When you tell him to do two things at a time, he just stares at you. Sits for five minutes rolling all over the floor while he's supposed to be getting his shoes on to go outside for the bus.
Did your teacher teach you that at school?
No.
I'm always shaking my head with this boy. In shock and awe. Or frustration and ambiguity. Never quite sure what is going on in that little brain of his.
And now, I'm completely confounded.
No comments:
Post a Comment