R is taking a little 2-night "skills clinic" to make up for the fact that his sucky parents have pretty much never played b-ball with him. He said it was fun, he made 7 baskets, and he got real sweaty (but didn't think he really needed a shower). It looks like 6 weeks of 4th grade basketball might not be the worst thing that ever happened to him (well, of course it wouldn't be the worst, that distinction belongs to Lego Robotics - epic FAIL in the fun-for-R category) after all. Sorry, kiddo, seemed like a good idea at the time.
I actually have to share the abbreviated story of Lego Robotics - There were two teams to be formed and R was placed on the team with none of his friends, a couple of 5th graders, and a couple of (gasp) 3rd graders. They had all kinds of problems getting their mission to work, got along only slightly better than the Real Housewives of New Jersey, and, at the tournament, were yelled at (right in R's face - I'm certain that the only thing standing between that woman and a bloody nose was the tiny shred of self-control we've drilled into our dear son) by the coach of the other team from their school that if they didn't shape up they would for sure end up in 74th place. R answered with "Nice try but there are only 49 teams." I would have liked to have seen the many shades of vermillion that woman must have turned during that day. Not really. I was glad I wasn't there because I think if I would have seen said "coach" screaming her irrational face off at my son (who was, by the way, not acting up at all), I would have probably gone all mama bear on her and it would have been a bad, bad scene. Anyway, in the end, they came awfully close to being in 74th place (out of 49), I had to pay a rather embarrassingly large bribe I offered R to not drop out in the 11th hour, and Mr. K and I resolved to swear off the "smart kid olympics" type of activities for good. It's good enough to do well in school, we decided, all the rest of the time they should be able to be goofy kids - and they don't require coaches to do that!
The MLK poetry contest (technically, this doesn't count as a smart kid olympic sport since they were required to write a poem for English class, all of which were submitted for consideration) was a great honor but entailed a pretty crazy number of events and both C and Mr. K were exhausted by the end of it.
I had a huge craving for carrot cake this weekend and the piece of grocery-store cake I bought to cure it was a bomb. Now I'm left with a sugar hangover and a lingering craving for walnut-flecked (one of the few places I enjoy walnuts), cream-cheese-frosted goodness.
My little A has been cracking me up to no end lately. She really is a precious little future dictator.
Mr. K, having owned a mighty nice telescope for several years and rarely using it has decided to sell it and to pocket the money for whatever his next dudely acquisition might be. I liked the idea of having a telescope but it involves all kinds of complicated set-up and, to be honest, the view just isn't all that thrilling.
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