“Don’t see me Mom.”
“Okay, Henry, I don’t see you. Henry, why should I not see you?”
“Um, don’t see me. Don’t look.”
“Why not Henry?”
“I’m just…I…don’t see me, kay Mom?”
At this point I decided I’d just better see him. I turned around, he took off running down the stairs to rejoin his cohorts. (One of these days they will learn not to send the four year old up to do the dirty work. He is sneaky, yes, but not yet clever enough to fool the likes of me, thankyouverymuch.)
“Okay, all three of you get up here right now.” Then I hear the chorus of blame begin…who started it, who did it too, whose idea it was, etc.
The markers have been confiscated until further notice. And just in case you were wondering, 6 year old boys HATE writing. It took William 1 1/2 hours (although a lot of that was whining and stomping) to write 30 times “I will not write on myself.” So if you’re looking to torture a six year old little boy… I’m just sayin’.
And that, friends, is how we spent our morning.