The Achieving Student, Part Deux

The move to Houghton Elementary has been good for Colby-man, although he won't quite admit it.  He misses his friends (and his brother - also won't admit that) back at his old school.  We know that this has been a good move for him, though, because our son Colby got nearly straight A's on his report card.  One B in social studies, but otherwise perfect grades.  Good job,  boy.  Handwriting/neatness.... still an issue.  But the brain's all there :).

The Bad Hair Day

Quinn has all of a sudden this year become very aware of his looks.  As in, he spends actual time in front of a mirror each morning carefully arranging his hair.  And really caring what that hair actually looks like.  Colby has lagged a few months behind his brother in the self-awareness department, but just today actually asked to have his hair cut, because a kid at school had teased him about his bed head.  I have been trying to cut both boys' hair for quite awhile, but today, they both said yes.  Well, Colby asked me to do it, and since I was already making the mess and getting out the clippers, I forced Quinn.  He really didn't want his hair cut, but that's just a technicality.

Colby went first, and I clipped his hair with the long clip-guard on, to achieve an even, well-manicured, but not- too- short cut.  He looked great.  Then I went to round up Quinn next for his turn.  This process took awhile, because Quinn was hiding, pretending not to hear me, and then covering his head with a towel so I couldn't trim his precious locks.  Good grief, child.  I finally yanked the towel back, took the hoodie off his head, turned on the clippers, and had at the back.  Except.... at some point, someone had taken the clip-guard OFF my clippers, and threw it onto the kitchen floor.  And I hadn't noticed.  So instead of shaving "a little off the top" with that first swipe, I had accidentally shaved him bald. 

GASP.

I tried to minimize my reaction, but it was too late.  He'd seen my look in the mirror, and heard my yelp of horror. 

"What did you DO TO ME?????"
Uhhhhhhhh.  Nothing. 

"Hey, Quinn!  Did you ever want a mohawk?  Because now's a GREAT TIME to try a mohawk."
He didn't want a mohawk.

"What about shaving your initials in the back of your head?  Wouldn't that be cool?  I'd totally let you do that right now.  Whatta ya say????"

"Mom, I want a nice, normal haircut."  Sure.  Now you choose not to be a rebel. 

I told him a story about how, when I was 20, I decided to have my hair colored for the first time ever, so my mom dyed it "ash blond", because that was the color that she used.  Well, "ash blond" on top of "brunette" turned.... "old-lady gray".  And I was mortified.  So I locked myself in the bathroom and used red dye on my hair, hoping to get some color back.  I got color back.  It turned neon pink.

"Well, people HAVE pink hair, Mom.  Kids my age don't go bald."
My hair tragedy story was not helping.  I needed a solution, quick.    Crew cut was not an option.  He absolutely forbade it. 

"OK then.  Here's the plan.  We're going to keep the top long, and try a comb-over."  He didn't ask what a comb-over was, or what exactly I was covering over, and I was glad.  I was also glad that he couldn't see the back of his head with the tiny compact mirror I gave him to look at it.  I DID take a picture to show him, just so he wouldn't be so self-conscious about it.  He totally knew that I was working the angle to best advantage, and told me so.  He didn't believe this picture I showed him of the back of his head - not one tiny bit.

What I didn't show him was this....

 

I mean, I want him to leave the house tomorrow!  And as of this moment, he's totally refusing to do that.  He wore a baseball hat turned backwards the rest of the day.  I've lost all credibility as a barber.  There goes free haircuts in the Aho house.  BAH. 

 

I do feel for him, though.  Poor kid.  I may have to email his teacher to see if baseball caps are allowed at school, at least for the time being.

 

 

Overheard

Sunday afternoon activity - playing with a big box. 

Quinn: "OK.  A little more tape and we'll mail Colby to Australia."

Colby:  "One problem.  The box isn't very sturdy."  (Mom note:  THAT'S the problem with mailing him to Australia???)

Quinn: "It smells like chicken farts in here."

Colby: "Yeah, I farted."

Quinn: "Wait, I have an idea.  Get out get out get out."

Reagan: "How bout I get mailed to Australia?"

Colby: "We need tape!"

Reagan: "Shut me!  Shut me!  Now!  Tape me!  Tape me!  Make it a surprise for Quinn."

Colby: "Take the light-saber so there's light in there."

(After a few minutes)

Colby: "OK, Mom.  I'm ready to mail Reagan."

Mom: "Where to?"

Reagan (from inside the taped box) "Mail to Africa!"

Quinn comes and opens the box.  Then shrieks and runs away, when he finds his sister.  "I don't want it!  I don't want it!"  ha ha ha

So then, Colby puts Quinn in the box.

Quinn: "It's really uncomfortable in here."

Colby: "It's a jail cell.  It's supposed to be uncomfortable."

Quinn: "Is this how it's supposed to be?  Do I fit?"
Colby: "Yes.  I just have to tape it more.  Jackpot."

Thank you, Dear Sister.

Aunt Kelli and Uncle Larry got the boys a basketball hoop for Christmas.  The kind that attaches to the back of a door.  That, coupled with the hardwood maple floors in their bedroom, has turned bedtime into a full-court-press basketball game.  It's 10:30 pm, and my room is on the complete opposite side of the house, one story down.  All I hear at the moment is "thump thump thump thump".

Gee.  Thanks for that, Kel.

Gorging.... on the Wii.

Santa brought the chilluns a Wii U for Christmas.  They have been playing non-stop ever since.  I'm letting them get their fill, because once school starts.... nada.  Except on weekends.  So, knock yourself out, kids, because your time is short.  I expect them to resurface sometime around January 5th. 

Tonight, at 9:45 pm, the boys came out of the basement when I told them it was bedtime.

Quinn: "BEDTIME??????"
Colby: "But I haven't eaten DINNER yet!" (pause.  Wait for it.)   "OR LUNCH!!!"

Good grief.  The Wii U Gorge-fest is super-ceding all other bodily functions.  I hope they're at least stopping long enough to use the bathroom. 

Genetic Diversity (Or Lack Thereof)

They're not all in one place all that often, so when I caught THESE seven boys hanging out together at church the other day, I had to take a picture:

Colby said "Mom, I just realized that our Sunday School class has two sets of identical twins, and one set of identical triplets!"

You JUST figured that out?  It's been that way since pre-school.  Six years ago.  But, okay.  Yes.  He just realized.

Seven boys.  Three genetic codes.

That is pretty cool.

Fiction/Nonfiction

Again, dinner table conversation last night.

Dad was telling me how after staying up late to watch a movie on Saturday, the boys had snuck their blog books (made from this blog) to bed with them and were reading them all night long.  I reminded him that he gave Quinn Mountain Dew AND coffee not too long before bedtime, and I'm sure that had something to do with the late night. 

Dad: "No, my point is, they like reading their blog books."
Colby: "Are those books published?"
Mom: "Yes."
Colby: "Like for everyone?"
Mom: "No.  You are not secretly famous.  I make one copy of each book."
Colby: "Oh."
Quinn: "You totally make us sound dumb in there."
Mom: "No I don't!  I just write down what you say!"
Quinn: "Yeah, but I don't say it with 10 exclamation points and all capital letters and stuff."
Dad: "There may be some fabrication."
Colby: "Yeah, you totally make stuff up."
Mom: "No I don't.  I write it down as soon as you say it."
Quinn: "But you make us sound so dumb!"
Mom: "Not dumb.  Funny."
Colby: "And then you write little comments on the end, like you're rolling your eyes at us or something.  Did you not know we would read them?"
Mom: "Of course.  They're written for you.  As adults.  Someday."
Rob: "So, obviously written from a skewed perspective.  Like highly editorialized non fiction."
Mom: "Of course.  It's Life With Boys, the funny things they do and say, written from MY perspective".
Rob: "Well, you could take other perspectives into account."

SHEESH.  Family.  Give it a rest.  This is not CNN.  It's a Mommy blog, not objective journalism.

WRITE YOUR OWN DANG BLOG, if you don't like it!