The other day I heard Henry in the other room giving Charlie a lesson in how to fart silently so his classmates wouldn’t hear.
I almost ruptured my spleen trying not to laugh, but frankly it is good, practical advice which will serve him well next year in Kindergarten.
Possibly I should warn his teacher in advance…
Charlie (4.5) and I were alone tonight way past bedtime waiting for Craig to bring big brothers Ed and Henry home from a movie party. I asked Charlie if he missed his brothers, and he said “Yeah.”
Me: “I don’t have any brothers. What’s it like?”
Charlie: [Pause.] “It’s like… being really happy.”
Me: “What else is it like?”
Charlie: “That’s it. Just happy.”
This year Craig signed up to coach Ed’s soccer team. Previously he’s been assistant coach, but this year they were short on volunteers. So part of his “training” is doing an online course in safety and procedures and such.
And generally the training is reasonable and helpful and pretty much what you’d expect. Except when you get to this instructions for what to do… well, I’m not sure when you’d need to use a tourniquet at a 7 year old’s soccer game, but just in case, now we know.
Step Four: Tourniquet should be used if the other methods fail. Place the tourniquet between the heart and the wound, as close to the wound as possible, and tighten until the bleeding stops. Attach a note to the victim with the date, time and location of tourniquet. Cover victim to prevent shock.
And that’s it. Attach a note and then what?
Step Five: take victim to hospital? Notify parents? Give player a red card? Resume play?
Victim? Was this mistakenly copied from some bionuclear fallout radiation training plan? Because this shit is scary!
Man. This is going to be one hell of a season.
I’m a big believer in letting kids look like what they want to look like. I only pick out their outfits when we’re going someplace fancy, and they get to choose what haircut they want.
So when my older two boys wanted REALLY short hair, of course the 4 year old had to have it too.
Don’t kill me, Mom :) They love their new hair!
My day began running my 4 year old to the bathroom so he could throw up in the tub. Repeat throughout the day.
I was just changing into my PJs and heard the 17 year old cat starting to vomit — I made him do it in his water bowl so I wouldn’t have to clean the rug.
The cat was pissed, and I’m going to bed.
