First it started with forecasters predicting inches of snow for our never-does-it-snow area. And sure enough, as always, the hype exceeded the (no) snow fall.
Then the time change welcomed longer daylight hours and the weather became a heavenly 75 degrees. That's when I completely lost my kids as they trapced through the woods, exchanging their worksheets and textbooks for bird songs, lizards, and the winding yellow jassmine that has decorated our yard.
Spring fever had sprung and life was joyful and grand!
Until we had dinner with a set of grandparents, who are apparently required to ask about what each child is learning.
Kenna holds up 8 fingers and proudly says, "I can name all 7 continents!"
That's when I should have called off this conversation. Mistake #1.
This is my child with mini hand-drawn maps of all 7 continents tacked to her bedroom wall. She loves geography and knows her stuff--until someone asks her.
She then proceeded to forget 6 of them, including her beloved Africa.
At this time I really should ended the conversation. Mistake #2.
But I gave Mabry a chance to answer. I asked her a simple, can't-go-wrong question: What continent do we live on?
"Mom, that's easy!" she proudly exclaims. "We live in South America!"
"Where is South America, Mabry?" I asked, trying to salvage any signs of intelligence from my family.
Her quizzical response: "The Bahamas?"
Strike 3. That's when my humbled head hit the table in shame, creating a new rule as I heared the thud.
My children are never allowed to talk again in public. Never. Ever.