As we all know, Little Prince is in school.
His teachers are awesome. LP is learning so much, so fast. And most importantly, his teachers make school fun - so fun that LP begs to do his homework. (I have vowed to record his pleading and use it against him ten years from now.) We play school at home all the time - I am the student and LP is Tia Ju or Tia Cintia or Tia Cris, whichever strikes his fancy. From his imitations, I have gathered that they are kind, loving souls who let him do whatever he wants. ("No, Mom. I'm the teacher and I say we can watch movies and eat ice cream all day.")
I take every imitation with a pound of salt and continue to give his teachers all the adoration they deserve. They rock. After all, we want the BEST teachers for our children, right?
Just as long as they're not TOO good.
In other words, as long as they don't replace me.
Yesterday we went to the park. It was a good park day. We made it all the way there without fighting or a time out, and we played for a solid hour in brotherly bliss. I studied my scriptures while they were making sand castles (I have to squeeze it in some time) and when I finished we played tag. Fun was had by all.
We wrapped up the morning on the swings. Ouro Branco sat "spider style" on my lap as we reached our toes to the sky. I love the feeling of him cuddled underneath my chin, his blue eyes so close I can count every eyelash.
I was feeling pretty good about myself when LP announced: "My teacher taught me how to swing."
(Let it be noted that we've been working on the "first iiiiiiiiin, now ouuuuuuuuut" concept for a year and a half.)
I laughed and corrected him: "No, silly, *I* taught you how to swing."
"Nope. Tia Ju did. Cuz she loves me."
I let it go. But it hurt.
And then just the other day we were in the pool with a bunch of friends. One of them, upon seeing LP shooting around underwater like a fish, praised him and said, winking at me: "Wow, LP! You must have had a good teacher! Who taught you to swim like that?"
No hesitation. "Tia Cintia."
(Psssst. *I* taught him.)
I know it doesn't really matter. I don't mother for the award ceremonies and endless gratitude. (HA!) I mother because I love my children.
Still. It'd be nice to get credit every now and then.