Cal was home from school yesterday with a sore throat. It really was sore, I'm sure. His glands were like hard little marbles in the sides of his neck and all swollen up on the inside. But he didn't have a fever and was, in general, okay. In fact, he spent much of the day driving me nuts and fighting with his brother and making me yell that I really wish I had sent him to school because he didn't seem very sick to me. Admittedly, I was having a crabby day myself yesterday and his agitating behaviors and general stirring of my "normal routine" pot just did nothing to soothe my already ruffled mood.
In the morning, I worked out. That was good except when Cal went over trying to lift all the free weights and proceeded to yell at me "but I CAN" when I told him to put them down before he dropped one on his foot or hurt himself. Then he informed me that he wanted to start lifting weights. AAAHHG. "Cal, you're too young to lift weights. It's not good for growing muscles and ligaments. The only exercise you need is just to run around and play. I am NOT teaching you how to lift weights." This was followed by more yelling and defiance. My blood was boiling with him at this point, but a switch went on in my brain as I recalled a request of his over the weekend.
"Teach me to sew, Mama."
Ah... A DIVERGENCE! And it worked.
I was actually pretty impressed with his care and concentration. He even had decent control over the pedal and feed.
A small rectangle of art.
Only now he wants to actually make something.
Now me TEACHING Calvin just about anything never seems to end well. BUT, it's better than a six year old weight lifting.
I can do this.