I am an idiot. College degree? Pointless. Maybe if it had been in child psychology and not history, it would have been helpful. Master's Degree? Also pointless. Good thing I thing I didn't waste money for that doctorate. I am sure they would have deemed that pointless as well. The time has come, for Ian at least, when I no longer am the smartest person on the planet. I am not even the smartest person he knows. I have been replaced by someone far more experienced; far more learned in the ways of the world. Who is this fine courier of knowledge, you ask? Well none other than Ian himself. That's right. He knows EVERYTHING. I, well, I know absolutely nothing about everything.
It is almost time for school to start back. (Thank goodness). So today we braved the mobs of people to save a few dollars on taxes to get our school supplies. We started out with clothes shopping. I had already bought most of Will's stuff but Ian really needed new shirts. I was pretty sure he was hyperventilating with all the huffing and puffing he was doing over my choices. Foot stomping and eye rolling were thrown in for good measure. A polo shirt is classic. Why is that no longer an acceptable choice for clothes? I was completely confused. He was picking out shirts with skateboards and skulls across the front. I was trying to stick to classic attire--Polo's double as church shirts too. But OMG, you would have thought that I was asking him to wear a straight jacket to school. I finally made an executive decision--after all, I was the one buying them--Ian, I am buying what I want to buy. If you don't want to wear this, you can go to school naked for all I care. Ian: Naked it is then. Those clothes are for grandpas and daddies. I am not a grandpa or a daddy. Me: Well you keep it up with all the extra commentary, and you won't have to worry about ever becoming either.--And then it came, as fast as lightening striking. Ian: Whatever mom. You don't know anything.
Wait, what? Was that adolescence punching me in the face five years early? I think so. In the end, I bought the Polo's. And I really don't care if he goes to school naked. I am not the one who has to go inside. I know he will come around when its time to make the choice. This is why kids should have to wear uniforms. We did uniforms when Ian went to private school. So much easier and cheaper in the long run. But, I digress.
Off we go for the real supplies. Pencils, paper, notebooks, card stock, paper towels, Clorox wipes. Huh? When did I become responsible for ALL of the things one needs to run a school? So much for my tax dollars. I was relieved to find that toilet paper wasn't on the list. Glad they managed to spring for something.
Ian wanted a new backpack. He has a really nice one that I bought for him from LL Bean when he started Kindergarten. There is not a thing wrong with it. It's biggest affliction? It is absent of some "fad of the moment" cartoon character that they are advertising in hopes of getting parents to buy their child an overpriced backpack that won't last the year. I ain't that Momma. Because I won't buy the backpack, I am "awful" and "ridiculous." I suggest that if he feels that strongly about getting a Captain American/Transformers/Star Wars/Cars/Hulk backpack (or whatever he wanted), he should buy it with his own money. After all, he has a couple thousand sitting idly in the bank. What was that? Oh, you really didn't need a backpack after all. That is what I thought. In an attempt not to be totally "awful" I do concede the purchase of a Transformers lunch box. He really did need a new one. If it makes him think I am a little less ridiculous because it has Transformers stamped on the side, so be it. However, I still wasn't all that great because I couldn't pick out a pencil bag, pencils, or composition notebook to satisfy him. Since when did they make composition notebooks in any color besides black and white marble? What does it matter if it is black, blue, pink or yellow? It is what he is going to be writing on the inside that counts, right? That is what is wrong with kids today---too many choices.
And you bet, I told him all about how there was only ONE choice for a composition notebook when I was in school and it was black and white. The biggest choice that one got in picking school supplies was the design of their lunch box and their trapper-keeper. Everything else was standard issue. He doesn't care if I walked to school both ways uphill in the snow. He cares that I am ruining his life because I don't let him buy whatever he wants. Get a job, buddy. Get your own house. Then you can make the rules. Trust me, life is a whole lot easier when Mommy is the one making all the decisions. Don't rush growing up.
So I have arrived. Idiot of the town. In his eyes, for the next 15 years, I am going to know nothing. At least on most subjects. I did redeem myself a little tonight at the blueberry field. I tossed a blueberry into the air, turned around and caught it in my mouth with my eyes closed. That was "awesome." But awesome isn't the same as smart. I know that. It took me a long time to figure out that my Mom and Dad really were as smart as they thought they were. I can patiently wait for my genius to return. In the mean time, I plan to enjoy making him hyperventilate...because as long as I am buying, Polo's it is!
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