The week smooths out.
Monday’s start- rough, rocky.
Tuesday- school’s rolling much more smoothly.
Wednesday- busy but even better.
Thursday- we hit a rough patch.
Oldest son scuttles away after breakfast- hoping I don’t see him. I do. I call him to the piano for practice. (which I shouldn’t have to do… he knows that is where he is supposed to head… but he tries to retreat to the couch, book in tow, to catch just a few more minutes reading)
Seeing the disgruntled look on his face, I give him a “manly” pat on the back and try to give him a brace. Encourage him. Remind him.
“You know you’re supposed to head to the piano…”
My son- he answers me, “Mom- you know- I’m a boy. Not a pack-horse.”
Words burst out- with boyish angst.
I laugh- (inwardly, slightly confounded-) Onward he must go to the piano- pack-horse imagery aside (grin)…
Ponder… all those horse books this child has read?? Hmmmm- Sometimes I think, he “thinks” in horse imagery. Obviously, I am not mistaken.
The things they say.