Talk me Down People!

I mean it! Send the intervention team because I am teetering here!

Yesterday the Rhino had a less than stellar day at R.A.T. And when I say "less than stellar" I'm really saying he lost his ever lovin' mind. We won't get into the nitty gritty details but the bottom line is that military school is looking like a real possibility. When I referred to his punishment as "solitary confinement" yesterday I was being kind.

Once I calmed down (close to midnight last night) I worked with his teacher to devise a behavior chart and reward system which we launched today. This week there are cool underpants and ice cream hanging in the balance. Don't think about that too much; it's gross. But now I have to devise some rewards for going forward.

Lion put some time at the driving range on the block since Rhino seems to have an affinity for golf. And we always have good ole Monkey Joe's and Chucky Cheeze that we can put up for bids (although I would rather have bamboo shoved under my fingernails). But even that is only 4 weeks' worth of rewards.

I was commiserating with a friend this morning about the whole deal. In the process of conversation we started talking about our attempts to get some speech therapy for the little guy. Yeah, he's a mess; but he's ours. My pal suggested that maybe if we can get the speech going he'll feel like he's in control of something else and his behavior will start to settle down.

My brain said "hmmm, give him something else to control." And this is where the intervention comes in because the next thing that went through my brain was, "What if I get him a small pet that is his responsibility? His thing to control!"

In an ideal situation, the security dog doesn't eat the new small pet. In an ideal situation Rhino feels a responsibility for his new pal and he feeds it and helps clean the cage and takes care of it. In an ideal situation the girls don't get jealous and demand their own "responsibilities" which (knowing my luck) could lead to more "little responsibilities."

This Zoo is not conducive to "ideal situations."

This is a bad idea, right? I really shouldn't do this. I should just stick to ice cream and M&M's and Happy Meals. Talk me down friends because in my desperation not to be known at the mother of the school lunatic, the idea of a George and Gladys is appealing to me right now.

I should probably go eat. It has to be the low blood sugar talking.

Free to a Good Home

One boy.

Gently used.

Very good with younger children and animals.
Enjoys trains, trucks, and dirt.

Merely needs room to run, perpetual feeding and an owner with no sense of smell as his idea of good hygiene is limited to wiping his hands in his hair.

Will consider a trade for a large lazy dog.

This, my dear Rhino, is the ad that will run in Sunday's paper if you put me through another day like today.

Poor Rhino.

Middle children, consider this a tribute to your childhood.

This time last year I was gearing up for Orangutan to join O.A.T. (Orangutan Academic Training for those who forgot) and I was all sentimental about my baby growing up. I got teary several times before the first day of O.A.T. even got here. I went out and rounded up school supplies well in advance, made lists of things that needed to be done, assembled multiple outfits for her to choose from for her first day and even walked her through the routine several times.

It's that time again. In two weeks not only will we be back in O.A.T. but this time we have R.A.T. (Rhino Academic Training) too! And how am I handling this? I'm counting down the days, minutes and seconds. I haven't even tried to do any supply shopping yet. The tears of sentiment have been replaced with nervous giggles of glee and his clothes have been laid out for two weeks with no options or room for deviation.

If they are lucky I might hit the brakes and slow down in the carpool lane before I scream "TUCK AND ROLL!" and shove them out the van door wise guy style. Maybe the new principal can catch their backpacks.

But let's get back to Rhino. If I was a good mother I would be just as sentimental about his first day of school as I was for O's. And you know I'll be all teary and weepy for Marmie's first day because she really IS the baby. When she goes to school I go back to work though so the tears could be multipurpose. But poor Rhino.

He's the middle guy. He can't beat anyone up or retaliate if something happens to him because the other two are girls. He isn't the biggest one in the family so he doesn't get all the cool new firsts. He isn't the little one so he still doesn't get away with murder like she does. And in all honesty he probably gets blamed for a lot of things that he had nothing to do with.

So this is me pledging to try harder in the next two weeks to keep the giggles to a minimum and muster up some sentiment for my boy. After all he is my ONLY boy and it IS his first day of school too.

Maybe I'll get him some knee and elbow pads to break his toss from the van.