{Insert Post About That Nite We (Never) Gave the Boys a John Deere Gator}

(Lest, when I read this blog in years to come, I look back through the rose colored glasses of nostalgia and remember only pleasant manners and immediate obedience, I thought it was important to write this post, which is actually NOT a post, because it's about an event that never happened ... or at least hasn't happened yet.)

Earlier this week, Jeremy and I talked about how we needed to buy the boys another big ride-on toy for Christmas. The police motorcycle my parents bought Freddie last year is almost too small, so we figured Christmas would be a great time to add another battery-powered riding toy for our road warriors to enjoy as much as they do the John Deere tractor the Pressleys gave Jones in 2014.

The nite after we discussed it, a friend from Greenville posted on Facebook that they were selling her son's John Deere Gator. I know her well enough to know that anything from her home would be excellently-kept. Plus, her $150 Gator was WAY more affordable than the $450+ we'd have to pay for a new one, so I asked Jeremy if we should bite. He said YES; his only stipulation was that I not give it to the boys until we'd gotten it home from our trip to Greenville. We talked about waiting until Christmas - or even Jones's birthday in October - but ultimately agreed that NOW is the time to play with it, since they spend so much of their summer days outdoors.

So that was the plan. The boys and I would head home after their naps today; Jeremy would leave the office a little early, and we'd give the boys their "big, giant surprise" then.

Enter Jones's big, bad, horrible, inexcusably defiant attitude. All.day.long, he has been disobedient and back-talky in ways he has NEVER been before. I warned and warned and disciplined and disciplined - in fact, we stopped more than once on the drive home from Greenville yesterday to deal with his disobedience. As a result, I told him the "big, giant surprise" currently covered by a pair of moving blankets in the way-back of my mini-van would have to wait. There was NO WAY IN THE WORLD I would give a kid something so super when he had behaved so stupefyingly bad.

And so, we wait.

It's so disappointing and anti-climactic for me and Jeremy. We've been so excited about this ever since it came up on Monday. Not to mention, Freddie's not been a bad boy all day; why should HE have to have treasures withheld? Still, he is paying for the sins of his brother, and both boys have to wait until tomorrow for the big reveal - though if Jones doesn't get his mouth in line, he won't get it then, either.

Grrrrr.

Trash Man

Jones still takes his "churr" of wheeling in the garbage can every Tuesday very seriously. This Tuesday, I cleaned out the car before we drove to Greenville and realized that we had another bag to take to the curb, so I asked Jones if he wanted to drive it there in the flatbed of Freddie's truck; of course, he did (I said the magic word: DRIVE).

I love this video of the ride that followed.



ME: "... to the trash can, please."
JONES: "You got it, Mama. Here we are, Mama.
ME: "... please."
JONES: You got it. Let me get out, so I can park in the garage in case I need my cowboy."
ME: "... Way to go."
JONES: "I can't do it."
ME: "... bags."
JONES: "Okay! I'm going back to my garage, so I can get my Woody!"
ME: "... help."
JONES: "Thank you. Okay, bye. I'm going to back to the house and get my cowboy, named Sheriff Woody's Hat. Do you want to follow me there, Mama?"
ME: "... there."
JONES: "You got it. Come on! Let's go!"

I also love these pictures of when we got to my parents' house a little over an hour later.

Church Camp Conclusions

Well, all good things must come to an end. Add to that list my four straight days of having four hours to do nothing but eat Chick-fil-A and play on the Twitter (trust me. I did more than that; but not much).

On the last day of camp, one of the teachers texted this picture to me with a message: "Pastor Freddie, leading worship." They were studying the Temple that day - and how Jesus, as a boy, had been there, teaching the leaders, so they had a church set up, which immediately reminded me of the one my friends Erin, Tessa, and I constructed in my parents' basement for those times when we'd play camp meeting or church, and yes. We FREQUENTLY played both camp meeting AND church.

"Amen or not, Brother."

Anyway, I love this picture - not only because it brings back memories of playing church myself, but also because that's my boy up there, THE ONLY TWO YEAR OLD in a class of kids much bigger than him, "leading worship." There is something very Tyler Ulis about this to me, and it may be what makes me proudest of all about the week that was.

No six year old with a kindergarten diploma and the ability to read is gonna intimidate MY baby boy!

Jones had a great last day, too, and I was able to get some clarification from his teachers about what I'd (wrongly) thought was a terrible Tuesday. Apparently, he HAD pitched a fit about coming inside (which he also did again on Wednesday but not Thursday), but the bigger issue they had on Tuesday was that he didn't want to participate. He wasn't disruptive or disobedient. He just sat to the side. I DO think that was caused by the exhaustion, because on Wednesday and Thursday, it got progressively better - and more like he'd been on Monday when he jumped in with both feet.

Hearing this in a long talk with the preschool director (and lead teacher of the camp) made me feel much better. We talked about her perception of his readiness (or not) for a preschool program of his own (she thinks it's worth trying, though we're still not sure whether or not we will).

So that was our week. It was absolutely wonderful for both the boys and me, I think. I enjoyed getting some stuff done around the house, while re-engaging with some passions outside of my boys (i.e.. reading and musical theatre - and reading ABOUT musical theatre), and they have LOVED having artwork to hang on their walls. Jones, of course, still says, "It's so boo-tih-fool" when he sees his handiwork, and Freddie will randomly point to his papers and say, "I made that!"

So they're very proud of themselves, and I'm very proud of them, too.

.

Catechisms, Kinda

Almost every nite when the boys go to bed, we go over their first two catechisms (mostly because I haven't taken the time to teach them past the first two). They're the same ones I learned in elementary school, and they go like this:

"Who made you?"
"God made me."
"What else did God make?"
"God made ALLLLL things."

Typically, the boys do fine with these, but tonite when I asked Freddie, it didn't go exactly according to the script:

ME: "Who made you?"
F: "Gahhhhhhhh-d."
ME: "What else did God make?"
F: "Jones."

Well, he IS right, if not correct.

"Church Camp"

Elaine & Reagan Moore

One day last week, my friend Elaine mentioned that her daughter Reagan was going to F.R.O.G. ("Fully Rely on God") Camp at church. I'd never heard of such a thing, because we missed the bulletin announcement when we were at the lake for the Fourth, but since Reagan is exactly the same age as Jones, I wanted to know more.

Turns out, our church preschool - which is where I'd want the boys to go to school, if they were gonna go to school - was hosting a day camp for kids 2-6. If you're doing the math at home, that means that BOTH of my boys could attend, while I did things, like cleaning out closets and drinking Frappucinos as I read the book on which Lin-Manuel Miranda's brilliant Hamilton is based.

TO WHOM DO I MAKE OUT THE CHECK?!

After I registered, I wasn't sure what to expect, to be honest. I knew Freddie would go with the flow - but Jones is a wild card. He could love it or hate it. Or he could not let me leave the building without acting like I'd just pulled both of his bottom back teeth without anesthesia, so I built it up all weekend while we were at the lake - how he'd be going to "church camp" and how he'd be playing on the playground and EVEN EATING LUNCH THERE - but I knew that all my preparation would have absolutely ZERO bearing on how he responded when I walked out the door.

As it played out, he did great. He held my skirt, walking into the building, but after just a few minutes  - and with absolutely no whining or anything - he walked right over and started playing with someone else's toys, while I snuck out - unnoticed. It was kind of miraculous.

When I went back to pick him up, he talked NON-STOP on the drive home. He was so excited about his day. It was absolutely awesome to see him do so well. He was so excited, in fact, that, though I figured he'd be dead asleep all afternoon, he never went to sleep at all. Instead, he talked and talked - reliving, I guess, his morning of glory.

I'm thinking that may have been the downfall of today.

I noticed when he was eating breakfast today that he wasn't playing, like he usually does. He was just sitting on the sofa, sipping his milk. He looked - and acted - tired. On the way to "church camp," he barely said a word. Again, he clung to my skirt as we followed Freddie into the building, but before too long, he was off and involved with the toy grill, so I was off and involved with a four count of Chicken Minis.

I had a great, productive morning, praying, as I worked, about whether or not we should reconsider our "no-preschool" decision and enroll the boys for two days a week.

My happy bubble of jubilant freedom burst, however, when I picked up the boys at the end of their day. One of the super sweet teachers told me Freddie did great, but Jones had had a few "episodes."

UGH.

"Did he pitch fits?" I asked.
"Yes. And he just didn't want to participate in some things, so we didn't force it."

UGH.

I am so glad she told me, but daggonit, Jones. She said, apparently, when it was time to come in from the playground, she had to physically go out and carry him in. I have seen this scene a hundred times myself, so I know exactly how it all went down - the screaming and crying and shouting, "NO TALKING!"

The lead teacher - who is also the head of the preschool - jovially asked me how I wanted them to handle him, if it happened again. I laughed and said, "I was hoping YOU could tell ME! He's done this to me, too!"

When we got home, I made sure he knew that he is not allowed, under ANY circumstances, to disobey his teacher. I also told him if he gets a bad report tomorrow, he's not going back to church camp. He then took a three hour nap from which I had to wake him after 5 p.m., so I'm not trying to excuse his behavior, but I DO think exhaustion is at its root.

These are their crown crafts from today.

At least, I hope it is.  I don't want to have to give up the rest of my mornings this week! I also don't want him to miss out on the lessons they're learning. They whole week is about children in the Bible and how God used them, though they were little.

I hung Freddie's Moses & Miriam craft from yesterday on his cork board in his room, and Jones asked me to hang his on his wall, so I did. When I pinned the crown he made today (I think it was David becoming king at an early age?), Jones looked at it and said, "It's so boo-tih-fool!" So I don't want him to miss out on this great stuff.

Nor do I want him to think he can act like he did today and get away with it.

Oy, vey.

At least, something funny happened today. Look at this conversation with Jeremy. As my friend Leslie put it when I texted her the screen shot, "LOL! Jeremy, please never change."

Here's to better days ... and more Chicken Minis ... tomorrow.

Lunch with Friends

Jones and Freddie had a playdate this morning. It should be known that I HATE the word "playdate." It's like "preggers" to me, or "hubs." The problem is, I don't know another word that so succinctly describes what happened this morning when Reagan and Brice Moore came with their mama to Canton for equal parts fun and lunch.

So "playdate" it is ... or was.

There was water fun and lots of couch jumping, as well as Goldfish and cupcakes with lunch, but my favorite moment of the morning was when Reagan picked up a white bucket full of water outside. I said, "Wow, Reagan! You're really strong," and Jones made muscles of his scrawny arms and said, "Reagan's strong like SUPERMAAAAAAAAN!"

When the time came for the Moores to head home, Reagan told her mama that she wanted to stay here "for days and weeks and years and years."

So I guess a good time was had by all.

As soon as Reagan lifted the bucket, JONES had
to lift the bucket, too.

Happy Birthday, Pressley Group!

Today, we celebrated the first anniversary of the Pressley Group Allstate Agency. In some ways, it feels like Jeremy's been there forever; in other ways, it's hard to believe it's been a year. The celebrations were nothing spectacular - we ate pizza in the office and commemorated the occasion with a delicious Kandi's Cake - but still, we are spectacularly grateful for all that God has done through the business, and we are hopeful for all that He will continue to do!

Also, we CAN'T WAIT FOR JEREMY TO NO LONGER HAVE TO WORK ON SATURDAYS.