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Drug Week – it’s not just for kindergarteners anymore . . .

Thanks to “Drug Awareness Week” at our school, we’ve had ALL kinds of conversations with our elementary aged kids over the past 7 days driving me to re-evaluate my stance on the age at which our kids should participate in these educational events.

Conversation 1

Hanna: Mom, what are drugs?

Spencer: They are medicines you take too much of.

Mom: errr – not really . . .

Spencer: No, it’s true, they told us today at drug week.

Mom: Greeeat.

EK: Look, I got a ribbon!

Mom: What does it mean?

EK: I dunno.

Conversation 2 (next day)

Hanna: Mom, what are drugs?

Mom: (checking to be sure other children are wearing DVD headsets . . . then insert age-appropriate speech about substance abuse and the various pitfalls ranging from addiction to expense to brain damage – figured she was asking, now was the time to be telling!)

Hanna: Oh.

Conversation 3 (2 days later)

Spencer: Mom, drugs are bad.

Mom: Yes.

Spencer: You didn’t send me a dollar to buy a red drug bracelet.

*sigh* Is it over yet?

Conversation 4 (1 week after the blessed event began)

Spencer: Mom, yogurt is a drug

Mom: No, it isn’t

Spencer: Hmm. Well, bread is a drug.

Mom: No, it isn’t

Spencer: Well (insert name of little K5 friend) says it is.

*rolling eyes*

Mom: Well, it isn’t.

Spencer: Oh. Well maybe just HIS bread is a drug.

I just don’t think I have the energy to fight it anymore. Maybe I’ll write a note suggesting they skip the K5 classes next year.

Things you hear at our house . . .


. . . and perhaps at yours, you tell me. Please. I mean it.

I’d be glad to know mine aren’t the only 2 having these deep theological discussions. I’m not even sure what started it, but as I put dinner in the oven, this is the part I overheard.

Emma: No buddy, Yoda was MUCH older than Jacob.

Spencer: But Bible people were really, REALLY OLD!

Emma: Yes, buddy, but Jacob only lived to be 130 and Yoda was 900. He was MUCH older.

Yes, coming along quite nicely, their education is.

Would you buy a used car from this face?

Tonight was not my favorite moment of the day. The time when I’m serving up food and receiving complaints instead of accolades from my children who apparently haven’t received enough lectures on the starving nations. Forgetting the fact that this particular infraction is punishable by all sorts of undesirable consequences, the boy squeaked out an “I don’t want THAT!” while making a face and shaking his head “NO” just to be sure I was clear on the fact that he wanted no part of the sweet potatoes made with brown sugar (for crying out loud!). Instantly sent to his room, he apparently had too much time to ponder how he would wrangle his way back into my good graces. After the meal, he came crawling up to my bed (where I was recovering from dinner with a quiet room and the tivo remote) to apologize — but instead of a traditional “I’m sorry mom” which would certainly have sufficed given the afternoon I’d had, I was treated to a far more inventive routine that went something like this.

Spencer: Mom, I’m sorry. But when I do this (the boy shook his head in imitation of his earlier crime) it really means (here he pauses for effect . . . and eyelashes . . . and freckles and . . . everything else that suckers are suckered by) THANK YOU, MOM!

Me: Yeah? (glancing into his serious little eyes with disbelief)  Well, I don’t buy that for a SECOND!!

At which point the boy smacked the covers with both hands and let out a familiar “AWW MAAAAAAN!” followed by a HUGELY sheepish grin.

Yes. I’ve learned. You cannot buy a used car from this small boy. No matter what. Really. Do NOT be the next sucker! You have been warned! (And can someone tell me where they learn this stuff? Seriously! I need to find that manual quickly!)