When I was pregnant with my son, it was our weekly Friday night ritual to make homemade pizza. Well, I say 'our' like I really had much to do with it. I should say it was our weekly ritual for me to mix up the crust and for Paul to make me homemade pizza. I ate so much of it when I was pregnant I was sure that my baby was going to come out looking like a pizza. But it appears what you eat while pregnant has zero effect on the growing baby, because this is the face he made tonight when we made homemade pizza.
In case you can't tell from the photograph, that is NOT a smile. That is more of an "EWWW!! GROSS!!" face. He tried to be enthusiastic for our sake, he really did try.
In case you couldn't tell that is a face of feigned enthusiasm. As opposed to, you know, real enthusiasm, which looks something like this:
So tonight, Dad and I learned that you just can't make someone like homemade pizza AND it can, in fact, be something within the same category as water-boarding to make someone eat homemade pizza. I wish I had some pictures of his face during the actual eating but I was too busy being one of those moms who try to make their children be something they aren't, which I swear I will never do again every single time I do it.
On that note, his favorite Christmas gift was an egg shaped alarm clock that tells the temperature and changes colors. It fell today and broke. He cried. We drove 20 minutes away to replace the $4.99 alarm clock while quietly wondering why he can't play with nearly indesctructable G.I. Joes instead, like other boys. Why? He isn't any other boy. Each day he teaches me something about me when he teaches me something about himself. God made him exactly who he is, exactly. We can guide and teach but we can't really change that thing that is him because God put it there. Truth be told, we wouldn't want to change it if we could.
On the way home from the getting the alarm clock, he told us all about his plans to create a new computer operating system that would rival Windows. He also said he planned to sell it and make lots of money like that guy at Bill.com (Bill Gates). He then made sure that I knew he would give me a set of disks for free because I am his mommy.
So if anyone asks me why I homeschool? That is why. Could any teacher respect that sacred place in him, that God-breathed, unique, one of a kind place? That place in him that may never like homemade pizza or play with action figures. I am not so sure, and I am not taking any chances.
"Everybody is a genius. But, if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will spend its whole life believing it is stupid." --Einstein