Summer Finishes and Starts

As my husband helped me ear candle(didn't help) this morning, Peace sat beside me looking up and reading aloud the dangers of such things in google searches. I was already quite anxious about inserting a flaming candle into my ear. Eye roll.

And I helped set summer goals with each child this morning. Peace wants to concentrate on Life Rank for Scouts and cross country. He also has honors summer assignments for English and Algebra II. Wise One will finish his unfinished homeschool. Peace and Wise One agreed to memorize the Periodic Table of Elements together. We selected spiritual development books for each. Pooh Bear is the official summer sandwich maker. She took orders in a notebook at 9:30 a.m. from everyone. Then sighed and watched the clock till I finally said she could prepare them at 11:52. What an earnest person.

I've been rehearsing for two days now not hollerin' about the grades Tater will bring home on his report card this afternoon. It's a matter of keeping my yapper entirely shut on the matter. Tater will be completely undone if he doesn't make the grades to play football, and me yammering will not help the boy heal. I asked him these questions to hopefully get him processing yesterday morning, "What kind of grades do you think you'll get on this report card? How do you think you'll react? What are the consequences of low grades? Will you melt down if it turns out they are not good enough to play football?"

He told me he'd blow up if he couldn't play. He said he'll be very angry, and he'll be sure we all know it. His ugly is down right frightening. Yep, that's why I brought it up, so hopefully he could think of a way to be sad without hurting us. I called our therapeutic respite provider to get advice on handling a big blast and to give her a heads up we might need her help.

After school yesterday, I asked, "Do you still think you are going to have a meltdown tomorrow if your grades are too low?"

He replied, "No, I've been thinking about it. I will have earned those grades myself, and I think I can trust when I do better you'll let me play though it may not be next year."

You coulda knocked me over with a feather!

Still I'm practicing my own unnatural and contrived gentle reaction to seeing stinky grades attached to my brilliant son. In my minds eyes, when I want to roar at him, "You could do so much better than this!", I'm picturing Aslan's face in all his confidence and those loving eyes while he holds his furry jaw tightly closed. I'm Aslan today. Hopefully.

update: While Tater's grades were not great, they are decent enough to play football.