The imp has started bringing home correctly done work, with stickers and good job written on them. He's started coming home daily with green or better on his calendar (with one notable exception, where the teacher said he'd been very good all day, right up until the end when he seemed to start feeling bad, and told one of his classmates that they were annoying him--his allergy med had worn off, and it's ragweed season). I'm very, very pleased with him.
His speech is better, from having spent days with other kids who speak more clearly. I had the feeling that he'd simply mastered it to his satisfaction, and refused to try harder on it. His teacher has noticed the same, but still feels (as do I) that he would benefit from one-on-one instruction and speech therapy. He's already benefited from one on one help with fine motor control. And our adorable little imp doesn't really need his Grotto grips anymore.
Yesterday morning, dropping him off, his teacher described him as a wonderful little boy, very loving, very sweet, and very well behaved. All I could think was, "Is she talking about my son?" Apparently she was--our reinforcing of her authority has worked. And worked well. She actually thanked us for backing her up.
And the pixie is sad because there's two mornings a week that she isn't going to school.
Although...I got an email from her preschool teacher last week, reminding parents that children her age need 10-12 hours of sleep per night, and that preschool starts very early. It bothers me that it was necessary for that email to go out. Bedtimes are important. For both my kids. And it's one of the things I'm strictest about. It...bothers me that parents apparently don't. Either they don't know, or don't care. I don't know which it is, but either bothers me.
I've been working on getting their old frame jumper cleaned up. It was a sixty dollar piece of equipment--and one of my colleagues, of whom I am quite fond, is due to have a baby girl in December, a few days after the pixie's birthday.
Shadow the cat has decided that the perfect sleepy spot is the little girl's high chair/booster seat (much like this one, but with the padding stripped out, and without the tray, which puts her at exactly the right height at the table), as of yesterday. When the pixie was actually using it, the cat curled up in the jumper seat and slept there.
Cricket has been very jumpy, lately. And clingy. She's too big to really snuggle down on my chest like she did when she was a kitten, so she plants her fuzzy butt on the arm of the chair where I sit, then lays on my arm, and puts her front end on my chest, with her head tucked under my chin.
Mom tells me that the dog isn't settling. She randomly attacks the other dogs, but the way she's describing it makes me think alpha dog asserting her place. Because both of my mom's dogs are solid beta dogs.
And neither my mother nor my sister are capable of asserting themselves as the dog's alphas. And that...is something my dog is smart enough to see.
I planned a treat for my students with the due dates around the first paper. Yesterday was a freewrite day...and Monday is Labor Day, which we all have off. I told them that I count emailing a valid check in for where they're writing, and the ones with very long drives left Thursday night to spend the weekend at home.
And my office hours have been spent grading a colleague's online lit class, then writing. Writing has gone...strangely. I've been having real difficulties getting the chapters out, because I've felt pulled in a dozen directions at once. But...I did get two chapters written. So it is happening. Just slower than I'd have liked.
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