The boys are so sharp. Jackson helped Cyndi figure out Excel, and Rylee made "flash cards" of numbers and letters.
Jack plays soccer often at recess, often with boys who have lots more experience in organized soccer. There's a boy who's a bit of a bully, as well as a bit of a cheat, often carrying the ball in play off the field just to irritate the other boys. It doesn't sound serious, and Jack seems to hold his own. Mostly, Jack's just trying to understand this kid's bad behavior. I did manage to take the occasion to say that bullies are often full of hot air and will [sometimes] retreat when pressed, so that Jack should stand up for himself should it ever come to that and in any case never to lash out first. Really, it was just a small comment made while we were driving in the car and not meant as a lecture on self-defense. That day may come soon enough but still seems premature now. I think Cyndi and I are just interested in monitoring the situation. Jack then told a story about a boy he had trouble with in the past. He said he asked the boy this year why we was always so mean, and the boy told him, well, I don't really remember why. Now they're buds.
I don't remember a real confrontation until I was about 5th or 6th grade. I don't know why he wanted to fight me; I hardly knew who he was. It happened fast. It was comical, as me and the other boy were soon wrestling on the school grounds and rolling down the hill in one ball of arms and legs. My third confrontation that I remember was in high school and that was comical, too, with our mutual friends holding us back, thank goodness. He was bigger and older. It was a matter of honor for him; it was over a girl. In between, I remember getting into something with a bigger kid and defending myself by yelling at him nonstop. (It always made me laugh to think about it but now I also wonder if it didn't turn out that I became the bully in place of him.) Of course, David and I had our share of fights. My favorite story is remembering pounding on his back; then only a short time later coming to the realization that he was now bigger than me and it was time to use diplomacy. A lesson learned, I guess.
Ry tells me he spends recess with a boy from another class. He knows the boy from cub scouts meetings. His brother is a scout with Jackson. They just talk, Ry says. I suspect they're sharing notes on life, like bakugans, silly bands (the new rage), and whatever. Ry does like to talk about things. Meanwhile, Jack and Ry have been playing well together. It's usually loud, but not always. They run around the house, usually shirtless, jumping on furniture. Halloween is soon. Ry wants to be a skeleton, Jack a ghost.
I received some pictures of ladles David carved. They were remarkable. The pictures were forwarded from Dad, who's back home with Mom from their trip.
