Earthmovers and Sandcastles

Eric and I keep cracking up over this. A few days ago, one of Sam’s homework assignments included a word problem based on the supposition that at a store, half-gallons of cider were $2.50 and gallons were $4. The question read, “If you wanted a gallon of cider, would you buy 1 gallon or 2 half-gallons? Why?” Sam’s answer: “One gallon, because that’s what you want.” I asked him if there were another reason, and he said, “Because one gallon is easier to carry?” It took pointing out that it was math homework to get him to look at the prices.

(These are the things that keep me smiling when I’m also faced with having had to ground him through the weekend for repeatedly kicking a classmate under the table at lunch time, to the point where the little girl wrote a letter about how much it upset her. He claims it wasn’t malicious – just a game he and the other little boy to whom the letter was addressed had been playing. Not The Point, I said, and no excuse at all.)

Gabe, my baby, is somehow old enough to record his own movies:

That “army” covered the entire top of the dresser he and Sam share, and as it was continuing to grow, we needed to find a solution. He’s pretty satisfied with this one. I’m imagining the way he’ll describe this collection to his future wife, and it makes me giggle. It’s very serious business, Gabe’s Army. The dresser they occupied before actually rocks a little, from the floor sloping; whenever Sam would close a drawer and the figures would topple, Gabe would have a complete screaming conniption, as though an actual battle was being waged, with his men on the losing side. “MY GUYS! AUGH! YOU KNOCKED DOWN MY ARMY! MY SO-OOOOOOOLDIERS!”

Tonight, Eric and I are going to see Jeff Dunham. I’m really excited about that.

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