Brrrrrrr

Sitting here wearing (from inside outward) a camisole, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a frigging fake fur-lined coat…inside. Holding a mug of hot coffee in both hands, as though I’m about to dive into it. I am such a wimp over cold weather, which makes my residence in Wisconsin a bit of a strange thing. Well, I didn’t pick it.

Apparently, third grade is the year where we’re going to transition into Big Kid work, or at least what I consider to be such. Not only are we regularly writing in cursive (without being officially taught! I guess there was something to that whole D’Nealian thing, after all!) and doing what can only be described as pre-algebra, but he’s now been assigned a six-page research paper, complete with required illustrations and a table of contents. I don’t remember doing that until fifth grade; I guess we were just coddled back then.

It’s to be about a subject relating to our town. Initially, Sam wanted to talk about the old cars once made here, but I wasn’t sure how the research on that would go. (Can’t imagine much is written at his level, uncoddled or no.) I spied a reference on the project sheet to a suggested topic about a “community concern.” Well, I’ve got a friend whose middle names might as well be Community Concern, and one of her pet projects seemed like it might fit the bill to a T. I proposed it to him, and he liked it, so we’re attending the meeting tomorrow night, and he has a list of interview questions written out for the organizers. This ought to be funny; he’s still a slow writer, if an improving one, and I don’t know how well he’ll handle scribbling down the responses. Might have to record them somehow instead. I don’t want to suggest having him email them to her, since it would be very easy for him to slip into copying her answers word-for-word into his paper if they were already written for him.

Sheesh, he’s eight. I can handle seeing him ride off down the street on his bike, and I can handle the new “frequently stinky” phase that’s mandating evening showers (somebody lie to me and tell me puberty is a VERY VERY long time away and this means nothing), but for some reason, helping him with this part is driving home the idea that he’s only a handful of years away from high school. I’m OLD. So very old!

But at least I’m not now undeniably in the second half of my thirties, like some folks to whom I might happen to be married. Today is Eric’s birthday. Give him some love!