A prize goes to anyone who can decipher this riddle.

I started my new English class.  It's taught by my advisor but run by the independent learning program.  This program is separate from the regular classes, and just signing up is unnecessarily complicated.  There are all sorts of weird requirements and limitations, but my advisor has been teaching through this program for several years and has the final authority over his own class.  He said he intervenes on behalf on his students all the time, and that I should just let him know about any questions or problems I have.

I read the syllabus, then the rules for the program.  I know they limit the number of lessons I can turn in per week, but then I came across these puzzling guidelines:

"Number of submissions allowed per week (Monday to Sunday): alternate 2, 2, then 4"


I emailed my advisor to ask him what on earth that meant.  Here is his reply:

Yeah, Jenny, send in 1-4. I can explain the 2, 2, then 4 but I have to refresh my Babylonian widget and consult with sociopathic psychics first. Just fire away with those lessons.

Thank you, Ant!

This is how Ant works:

All evening he's been a giant pest.  Sarcastic and argumentative, pushing my limits and every other available boundary.  He argued about anything he could think of.  It went like this for the last four hours, from dropping Chris off to the grocery store and through our walk.  I was done- completely ready to dangle him out the window- when he came into the living room.  "I have a present for you," he said.  "It came today."

He got me Mockingjay, the third and final book in the Hunger Games series.  I read it because I'd heard so much about it and burned through it.  I made him read the first book for one of those errant book reports last year.  He ate it up and stole my Entertainment Weekly when the cover story was about the Hunger Games movie.  I got the second book for my birthday and Ant ordered the third one right after that.

What a sweetheart.  :D

Oh look, a blog!

"I know how to make a bomb."

Ant was laying on the floor of the Pickle Parlor making boy noises when he suddenly offered that information.  I looked at him with sunken eyebrows.

"I DO!" he said.  "I learned it at school!"

Don't worry, apparently he's talking about a paper bomb made out of a post-it note, whatever the hell that means.


Chris and I looked at a house today and were so excited about it that we applied for it immediately.  I am feeling very nervous, but I always do when we're about to hand over a bunch of money for anything.  Eeeeee!

I went out to Topaz on Monday to pick Ant up- he came up to give me a hug and say hello, but when he came into the house he was really snotty.  He was talking back, disobeying, and arguing with me over every possible thing.  He started kicking his soccer ball around the house and I gave him a look.  When he didn't stop I asked, "Really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Can you stop now?"

"No."

Okay, give me the ball.  We left soon after and he pouted in the Dodge.

"You know, you take things away that you give to me, but I don't think it's fair for you to take things I've bought... or gotten... by myself."

HA HA HA HA HA H.. oh, I'm sorry.  What were you saying?  Yeah, that's really cute and all, but it doesn't work like that.  And what was that "gotten" comment?  It's not like I'm going to give your soccer ball to someone else- it's still YOURS- but you lose it when you act like a ding-dong and don't do what you're asked.

All this is obvious, but he was still surly and pissy and spitty and fuming.  I kept interrogating him- yes, you are becoming a surly teenager, but why were you snotty upon walking in the door?  We were almost to Carson City when he finally told me what was up.  He showed me the hundred dollar bill in his wallet.  At first I thought he was trying to distract me and then I realized that it was his answer.  "YOU'RE GOING TO MAKE ME SPEND IT ON SOMETHING I DON'T WANT TO LIKE THE BANK!"


Oh, good grief.  THIS is what you're flipping your lid over?

"Yeah... I didn't want to tell you about it, but I don't like keeping things from you, Jenny!"

Wowwwwwwwww.  I'm gonna need a moment.


So I told him that we could talk about what to do with it, but I would be involved.  He told me he wanted the iPod touch or a TracFone.  As if.  But we'll figure it out.  I pointed out to him that while he didn't want me to know about it, he behaved like such a poopy pants that he ended up in trouble and suffering interrogation.

"Trrruuuuee," he said.


In other Ant news, last week he took some sort of math test.

"On what?" I asked.

"EVERYTHING."

"What does that mean?"

"Everything we've ever done!  Ever!  Our whole lives!"

Wow, I would fail that test.  But he didn't.  He and another girl got the highest grades in the class.  And guess why?  (Can you see me dancing over here?)  We have been doing math together.  When they go over a lesson in school he watches and thinks he understands how it works but can't repeat it later.  We go over it again and iron out confusion and silly mistakes.  So far our work at home has aligned with what they're doing in school and he has said many times that it's getting easier.  YAY!!!!  One of the problems he had was remembering his times tables.  I got him some flash cards and he has been voluntarily working with those.  We keep them in the car and randomly quiz him.  We're teaching him the tricks with nines and just practicing, practicing, practicing.  And it's paying off.

I told Dad about that and the $100.  ($100!  It was from Chris's uncle- the one who started giving Ant $100 Toys R Us gift cards when he found out I was making him save half.)  Dad was also taken aback at how over the top that was, but he was really impressed with Ant not wanting to keep things from me and the math test.

"Awww," he said.  "Jenny, take him to get an ice cream from me.  Spoil his dinner!"  So I did.  He couldn't eat a lot of it so he put it in the freezer, where Chris found it and that was the end of that.