Jackson has now been at school nearly two months, and I kind of get the feeling that the novelty is somewhat wearing off.
I’m not going to say getting him to do his homework is hard or anything, just that it would probably be easier to convince someone to eat a bowl of snot.
Snot mixed with dog poop, maybe.
But his homework always gets done in the end. And I was not at all surprised (totally surprised) to see how good his school work actually is when I went to the Grade 1 meet and greet recently.
Anyway, the other day the following conversation took place.
Me: So…do you ever think about what you would like to do after you have spent the best part of your twenties slacking around the world?
Jackson: Hmmmm…I think I want to be a doctor.
Me: That’s awesome, why?
Jackson: I think I’d like to help people.
Me: My altruistic child, how proud I am of you. You know that in order to be a doctor you have to work really, really, really, really hard at school, right?
Jackson: Mommy, I definitely think I do not want to be a doctor.
This is on the boat from Phuket to Phi Phi.
This is a picture of Jackson getting a blessing from a monk at Wat Phrathat Doi Suthep in Chiang Mai.
According to our guide (who could have said anything, let’s be honest), the blessing was that Jackson be an obedient boy and not do anything reckless or silly.
It totally worked.
Or…maybe not so much.
Not as tasty as you might think.
Despite my best efforts to try and send him to a tree school for feral kids, he sadly has taken a more conventional path.
He’s even wearing shoes.
This morning my son said that he would make me breakfast (my sweet little angel, how the heck did I get so lucky?)
Now because he has been doing a fair bit of cooking I thought I was actually going to get actual breakfast in bed.
How wrong I was.
Beautiful food styling, dude.
I have happily done many gross things as a mommy, things that made me believe that perhaps my mommy love is infinite, but there was no way (zero, zip, not a chance) that, at 6.45am, I was going to put lemon and marmite in my pie hole.
Sorry my little Heston, I hate to crush your creativity, but next time I’ll just take toast please.
Jackson is six and I cannot quite believe it. I mean I understand the passing of time and all that but SIX? Seriously?
It’s like someone said to me the other day: “I remember Jackson when he was a teeny-tiny baby of just three months old – and I remember it like it was yesterday. Although to be fair he still looks EXACTLY the same now as he did then…so maybe that’s why.”
I’m having a real hard time coming to terms with the fact that he’s off to school next year, I think I may have mentioned this before on my blog but I can’t be bothered to go back and have a look. It’s like I really don’t want him to wear shoes or be part of an institution. I want him to be feral and stick it to The Man – at least for another year. But they wouldn’t let me keep him back and send him to tree school.
Anyway, his birthday was a riot. It all passed in a haze of too much sugar and sunshine and food and fireworks.
I bought him a waterproof camera for his birthday. Well I say “bought” but I actually got it for free with my eBucks. I didn’t really think this through though, because I now have to remember to try to look my best no matter what I’m doing because Little Mr Bang Bang Club spends his time lurking behind corners ready to leap out shouting “SAY CHEESE MOMMY.”
And then there’s the joy of having to pose for a million selfies. Like this beauty. Seriously. Best photo ever.
Anyway…happy birthday little buddy, I’m afraid the time for soppy love posts are long gone but you know I think you’re perfect, right?
This is Jackson’s Halloween costume. Pretty much the best thing he has ever owned, I had to walk around with a mini Darth Vader (or DARK LASER as Jackson calls him) for two whole days.
Too cheap to buy a pumpkin, so we carved butternuts instead. Made delicious soup too.
My dad bought Jackson this electronic Razor motorbike and, without stating the obvious, he loves it. It’s totaaaaalllllyyy aaaaaawwwwssssome, as he (all of five-years-old) would say. But, in reality, it has totaaaaalllllyyy ruined normal bike riding for him forever.
When I suggest we go out on his bmx for a gentle ride around the park he’s all like: “huh…you want me to peddle. Seriously?”
Last night, post-bath, Jackson treated Dave and I to a bit of naked Poi, and I swear for five minutes I was transported to the magical hippie commune I so longed to live in when I was 22.
Most nights (when “most” actually = “all”) if Dave isn’t around, Jackson will sleep in with me because, honestly, who wants to sleep alone right?
Anyway, last night surly, rude and super-annoying Jackson made an appearance and there was no way I was sharing a bed with him so he had to go and sleep in his own room.
At 2.12am this morning I was awakened by a little boy leaning over me and shouting an obscenely loud BOO in my ear. Not once, not twice but THREE times.
When I asked him why he was doing this terrible and horrible thing to me, he said brightly: “because I want to come and sleep with you Mommy…”
This is such a dreadful picture of my son. He was doing something weird with pushing his stomach out so he could be fat, but also he was trying to show what he looks like when he wakes up in the morning and when he pulls his muscles. And as for those silky boxers…well…what can I say? Except that he loves them and will only wear them without anything on top because “that’s what big boys do.” Left me kinda speechless when he told me that.