Me: Ok, Evan, you’re going to learn to make a two.
Evan: I don’t want to.
Me: We can write a two for Sean’s birthday.
Evan: I don’t want to. I want to write a one.
Me: You make very good ones. But you should learn to make other numbers like three because you’re three or four because you’re turning four soon.
Evan: Hmm. I think I’ll turn eleven instead because ones are easy to write.
Me: It doesn’t work that way.
See that! In just a few sentences, Evan has me ready to growl. Oh, I can be super patient teaching a craft, pooping, or playing a new game, but this whole homeschooling thing unhinges me. I don’t know how other moms do it. I don’t know why other moms do it. My working theory is they are (a) crazy, (b) saints, or (c) a little of both. (Send your hate mail now.)
We’ve been doing workbook pages for a couple of months. At first, Evan loved doing them. He would tell me stories of the objects he was tracing or matching. He would ask to do another page and another. All was right, and I actually thought Evan would be writing his name before summer.
Then Evan realized it was work and that he had no choice but to do the worksheets. Then he decided to make it tough. Screw you, Mommy. Make me. He would play with the crayon, forget how to hold the crayon, switch crayons, sit there, tell me random stories, talk to Sean, play with the crayons, run off if I turn my back. Are you kidding me? Even when he knew the answer, he would protest the thought of circle the right object. I swear I just might strangle the kid.
He’s been learning to trace numbers, in the attempt to learn to write them. Tomorrow we start on letters. But the minute he saw that it wasn’t a picture, he threw up a wall in protest. Lately we’ve been playing a game of follow the leader, drawing style. I draw a line down; he draws a line down. I draw a line across; he draws a line across. That worked for a day, but he’s figured out that this might be more than fun and games, throwing that damn wall up.
So am I super excited to turn Evan over to a professional? You better believe I am. The very thought that I would somehow figure out the code to unlock his learning ability has eased the fears of putting him into school, realizing my baby is growing up.
We’ve settled on a half day program, three days a week where a friend of my mom’s teaches. I liked the curriculum, the close proximity, and the teacher. Evan loved the playground. The husband loved the price tag. As this is only a school for preschool and kindergarten, we’ll have to do this all over again in a year and a half for an elementary school. Fun.
But for now, I’m just glad this part is over. Now back to forcing the kid to learn to write his name. It’s four letters. How hard can it be?