i dream that my ear itches and i go looking for a q-tip. they're not on the bathroom shelf where they usually are; they're on a different shelf, but it's not any kind of a stressful hunt or anything, just, huh, different shelf. i wake up and my ear itches and i go looking for the q-tips, which i now remember i moved to the top shelf a few days ago. "well, well, you!" i tell my reflection, "you make my dreams come true!"
kids these days: which is more surprising, that a third of all czechs (mostly young people) don't have any idea what happened on november 17th, or that only a third of california students passed their physical fitness test? those who cannot remember the past will be condemned to do sit-ups.
ah, here's a topic. i hired a tutor for Squire Tuck last week. he starts this week so i have no real evaluation yet. i just know that Friar Tuck is unable to get over the wall that is Squire Tuck's lack of organization, focus, and mainly interest, and i gave up slamming my head against it last year. grades have been slightly worse than poor this year. he comes home with homework that Friar Tuck is only able to explain by virtue of his fascination with grammar ("ah, this pluperfect verb is derived from the noun that shares a root word with this other noun"), and then Squire Tuck pulls stuff like, "now, what's a noun again?" Friar Tuck has a full head of beautiful hair and i can't watch him tear it out anymore; nor am i about to put my own long luxurious locks* at stake. i signed on for a number of things in parenting, including the understanding that i would be puked on more than twice, but i am not ready to drill a child endlessly in subjects about which he does not give a damn. i would have thought that education in matters such as subject and predicate was the job of the school (i thought my job was "try to aim for the bucket next time, sweetie"), but i would apparently have been wrong, and i am not willing to fill the gap, but i can see the kid is getting lost. hence: tutor.
Friar Tuck and i had a bit of disagreement about it, because getting someone to drill Squire Tuck on the difference between a noun and a verb, however creatively and professionally they do so, does not solve the fact that Squire Tuck couldn't care less which is which. i think it's worth trying anyway. i don't know, but i bet i'll turn out to be right. i usually am.
to his credit, despite his inability to tell a maple leaf from an oak leaf, Squire Tuck can run for 20 minutes solid AND he knows what november 17th was about.
yesterday we watched amadeus and then we watched the hurra torpedo video. it was a musical mashup of ginormous proportions! and i think: all parents want their children to be happy. i can be constantly disappointed that he doesn't use his intelligence for the greatest possible profit to himself and others, whether or not he's happy, or i can stand in the front row and cheer while he slams the refrigerator door down with percussive humor with his pants falling off him, as long as he's happy. and i think it's clear that i'm a parent who is going to fully applaud kitchen appliance 80s cover bands. but i also think i should get him a tutor in case he decides to write an opera. so to speak. in whatever form it takes.