I did. I gave up on Letter of the Week. While it’s clearly a wonderful curriculum, the amount of prep work involved was just too much for me. I ended up skipping weeks because we couldn’t make it to the library or because I didn’t have time to get the printed stuff together. Then, once the hubs got his new job (WOOHOO!), I just couldn’t bring myself to spend the only day we had alone together, as a family, doing prep work. With a mind better suited for pre-planning, it likely wouldn’t have been much of a problem. Unfortunately, I am a lazy ass with untreated ADD my mind just doesn’t work that way. So, I gave up and went on a search for something a little less prep intensive.

I needed something “The Boy” friendly, something that wouldn’t be 10 miles above his head but also wouldn’t bore the heck out of him (harder than you’d think with a 2 year old beginning reader), and secular. Now, I have nothing against religious curriculum in general. I just want to be the one to walk that path with my son. I don’t feel comfortable having anyone or anything else take that role, in any way, shape or form. And, after a whole lot of searching, I came across Sonlight Curriculum. While it’s clearly evangelical Christian in nature, it’s also easily adapted to be secular and it’s extremely well put together. In addition, we were able to find a good combination of cores to fit The Boy’s needs. It was wonderful. So we ordered it.

Since they’re located in Littleton, the package came in exactly one day. That didn’t stop me from refreshing the FedEx tracking page over and over and over and over again while having horrible, threatening thoughts towards the driver every time I saw him drive by without stopping. I was moments away from chasing him down the street, barefoot with a 2 year old in arms, screaming like a banshee. The only thing that kept me from doing it was that I might not be able to get the package to the county jail.

I do not deal well with waiting.

The box managed to come about 2 minutes after I found the boy napping like this…by himself:

Did I mention he was napping by himself? Without me? No, “MOMMY!!! COME HOOOOOLD MEEEEE!” No, “MOOOOMMY!! COME READ ME A STOOOORY!” Instead what I got was, “MOMMY! GO GO GO! GET OUT OF HERE! I’m going to nap with my baaaaaaaabies!” While unsure whether to be offended or proud, I saw the FedEx man leaving the gate in the front yard. The quandary was quickly forgotten and replaced with, “Should I open this before he wakes up?”

Which I did. Because I’m horrible and evil and enjoy stealing the joy from my son’s life.

Give me a little credit. I only pulled out the Instruction Guide and blinded myself to everything else. Replacing the papers exactly where they were and closing the box back up.

And, thank goodness I did, otherwise I might have missed the, “A BOX FOR ME?!” moment and this:

“WOOK AH AAH DEEZ BOOKS, MOMMY!! DER MY! OOOH! WET’S WEED DIS ONE! OOH! DIS ONE! WET’S PWAY WIT DIS ONE! DIS BOOK HAVES CAPS FOR SALE! AND GOODNIGHT MOON!” We read at least one story from every book (except the 101 Bible Stories) that moment. We played with every single thing there was to play with. It was so many kinds of awesome, I can’t even begin to describe…I guess I did. Verbosely. Sorry about that.

We’re officially beginning on Monday, and if he’s even half excited as that up there? We’re going to have a really, really good week.

Two years ago, my sweet little man was born. Two years. He’s growing so quickly, it’s a little shocking. I look at pictures like that and can’t imagine how someone so little and fragile could’ve become the wonderful, smart, holy freaking terror he is just two years later.

We asked The Boy what he wanted to do on his birthday and, despite my many attempts to put Chuck E. Cheese into his head for God knows what masochistic reason, he clearly stated that, “I want to go to Sweet Tomatoes and then Grandma’s house.” So that is what we did. He also stated, very clearly, “I do not like Happy Birthday.” I always hated being sung to, too, so I was more than willing to oblige.

My mom, the husband and I stayed up most of the night making the most horrific looking (and heavenly tasting)Word World cake ever known to man. I will not share the images of “Pig” looking as if he’s attempting to hump “Sheep”, or “Ant” looking like a victim of some God awful crime. Suffice to say, the boy could not figure out who any of the characters were and they all ended up in the trash at the end of the day.

Ignoring my stern warning to avoid it, my slightly sadistic mom family decided to sing happy birthday to him. I have a feeling each year we will get a picture like this one because there will be at least that one reveler that believes the Boy really does enjoy the singing and that I’m just making it up. And each year said reveler will quickly realize that he is wrong. Very wrong.

Somehow, despite the fact that I was the only person not singing. That I was the only person not involved with the whole conspiracy to horrify him, he remained angry with me through the entire meal.

And afterwards.

Apparently, it was my job to control these people and I was doing a horrible, horrible job.

He resorted to yelling at them himself. I think this was something along the lines of, “HEY! BACK OFF!” or maybe it was just, “That’s miiiiiine!”

Grandma, clearly, did not take him seriously.

He enjoyed all of his presents, immensely. He got to ride his new tricycle around grandma and grandpa’s neighborhood with nana, popo and the rest of us in tow. He got to watch the water at the pool. He had enough cake that he darn near passed out the moment we got him into the car seat.

We came home and he laid on my arm, as he usually does before bed, and we talked about the day he was born. We talked about the hospital. We talked about the nurses. He fell asleep after telling me, “I’m two, mommy. I was born and now I’m two.”

Happy birthday, sweet boy. You were born and now you’re two. We love you.