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Passing notes

Happy is becoming quite the little reader-writer these days. Which is simultaneously great and awful. Great because, well, it's super-awesome that his brain has cracked the reading code. Awful because we can no longer spell things to keep them secret. OK, so that's not really awful. I recant my previous statement: Reading-writing is 99% great!

This afternoon, during the 3 minutes that I allot for us to change into "play clothes," grab a snack, tinkle, and head back out the door to the YMCA for Mommy's Vastly Important Workout Time, Happy was Grumpy. (And who can blame him with all this hustle and bustle?)

Happy-Grumpy, like his mother, has discovered a catharsis in writing notes to communicate when he's feeling out of sorts. Lately he will write a sentence on a small slip of paper, hand it to me, and stand in front of me with hands on hips, glaring while I decipher it.

(Note: I feel great pressure during this deciphering period because it's hard damn work figuring out his completely phonetic spelling his teacher calls "kidwriting."We're supposed to encourage his "inventive spelling" without correcting right freaking hard for this editor-mom! And, when I write notes back, I have to limit my vocabulary to words he knows by sight or can easily sound out, because I don't want to frustrate him with these silly things.)

Anyway. What follows is the transcript of this afternoon's note pass, which stemmed from our disagreement over what type of snack he would enjoy. Please remember to read phonetically...and giggle:

Happy: i DO won 1000 PRESals
[Stands with hands on hips while I read...he looks mad, real mad.]

Me: OK. Luv, Mom
[He reads it, shatters into uproarious laughter, throws arms around me.]

Happy: [one minute later] No Akshoole i loveyou

Me: Your smile makes my day happy.
[I retreat into bathroom, close and lock door, for my one minute of tinkle-time privacy. A small paper slips under the door.]

Happy: i AM smiuling for you and it is hrting my Mawth.

[Now I'm the one cracking up. And another paper slips under the door.]

Happy: MoM i wood like a frudsnaks iNstdto.

Happy: I do want 1,000 pretzels.

Mom: OK.
Love, Mom
Happy: No, actually, I love you.

Mom: Your smile makes my day happy.

Happy: I am smiling for you and it is hurting my mouth.

Happy: Mom, I would like fruit snacks instead.


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