We decided to keep our five year old home from school this year. We just didn't feel he was emotionally ready.
Oh my heavens, I don't think I was ready! For the long, exhausting days you have with a bored five year old. Seriously, I knew I would have to work extra hard at keeping him occupied and challenged. The boy counts to one thousand for fun, for pete's sake! But I had no idea it would be this challenging. And wearying.
He's already tired of all the worksheets and workbooks. They keep him occupied for about half an hour. That leaves 7 1/2 hours to fill until the school kids come home from school. I'm already tired of the constant queries of "can I play nintendo?" My answer remains the same "no, you know you cannot play except on the weekends". I wonder how long till I crack and allow it again (which I know from experience will cause all kinds of other behavior problems). He plays coolmath-games.com about every day. I'm scrambling to find what else we can fill the days with. Perhaps its time to attempt story hour once again. Or order some science and math kits. Or something. Because he keeps me on my toes.
And some days I want nothing other than to take a nap.
The other day I lay down in bed after putting the pizza dough to rise, if only to rest my eyes since I swear I'd been up hourly each night for the last week with one sick kid or another. It wasn't too long before I heard three children in the bathroom, one of whom was saying, "Donny should we put your toothbrush in the toilet?" Yes, that would have been the five year old. The same boy that stuck a long bead up his brother's nose. Where on earth do they get these ideas!?!?
Before I could tell them to get out of the bathroom, there was a crash and I heard the two remaining frames above the toilet shatter on the tub and floor. Now I added "and shut the door behind you after you come out of there!" I resigned myself to the fact that there is no such thing as naps for mom who has three pre-schoolers. I resigned myself to the fact that a bored five year old will usually resort to physical stimulation, especially my five year old who loves nothing more than to wrestle and rough house with his shrieking little brother. They were going to run and screech until I sat them down to supper.
|The busy bee boys|
As I cringed, waiting for the inevitable bump of head onto floor or sharp corner, I vaguely remembered that I was supposed to be being thankful. It crossed my mind, albeit briefly, that I should be thankful for healthy, robust boys. But before that thought could lodge itself too firmly in my mind, I looked at the clock and sighed with relief. Thankfully, Dean would be home in only 40 more minutes. The clock couldn't tick fast enough.