If only I had the camera ready today. What a day we could have recorded.
Not only were we waxing philosophic over lunch (maybe waxing and waning for a bad pun) but the boy has been busy with a capital B!
He had to go outside so apart from the snowball fight with Dad, Mr. D. properly snapped on his training skis for the first time and off he went. Only a few crossed-ski incidents with yells to accompany but mostly smooth going. These are kid-sized skis with easy elastic/snap closures for the boots, any old boots. They allow cross-country movement and some gentle inclines – just enough to get a feel for the snow. Mr. D. is desperate to go to Mt. Washington and ski and learn to snowboard and be all around boy -ike on the slopes but with aged parents with rusty joints, he will have to wait, possibly til next year, when we think he has the judgment to do a lesson or three, then let ‘er rip. Remember, FASD leaves you little inhibition so you’re likely to throw yourself into the most unlikely situations; the ADHD means no impulse control, so you don’t even slow down for a second.
Next, our respite worker/cleaner (wonderful, wonderful, wonderful woman) came over this afternoon and besides having Mr. D. help her with an indepth dusting, she has been helping him with his chemistry kit. Yeah – the one he can’t reach by himself. The one he should do with Daddy. Well, turns out he was doing fine and only needed help recording his scientific findings. This was all on the dining room table (which now smells strongly of vinegar) because “Mummy, you haven’t given me my own lab space yet and what am I supposed to do? I can’t do real science without my own lab.” D’oh.
After that discussion, Mrs.D heads downstairs to our ‘classroom’ to vacuum and Mr. D. tags along. I think he is helping again. Thank goodness our respite worker/cleaner also used to be a homeschool mum – to boys as well!
Mr. D. had taken out his laptop, booted her up, attached the mouse through the right USB, attached his digital camera to the right USB, found the software for the camera which was stashed in the digital microscope box, and begun installing the software. Luckily, very luckily, it needed my password as an administrative override. Last I checked, Mr. D. couldn’t remember how to OPEN the laptop, let alone achieve anything.
Could it be – half way through Grade 1 – that Mummy has reached the limits of home-schooling abilities? How many more eyes must a home-school mummy have?
No. That isn’t rhetorical.