Question 1 (of 3):
What kind of traveller are you?
Question 2 (of 3):
When traveling, what are you up for?
Question 3 (of 3):
I’ve been at a complete loss when it comes to talking to my kids about divorce. Malcolm absolutely will not talk. He knows the answers to my questions that will shorten the conversation.
But since he’s been back to school, I’ve been using the 20 minutes of reading he’s assigned every day to read “Mom’s House, Dad’s House” with him. It kind of seems like a breakthrough. He groans and complains all the way through it, but makes comments and asks questions that he’s never opened up about before.
I don’t particularly like the book either and I change up the language and skip some sections. But this has been pretty enlightening.
I’m going to look for a book I might like better. Sitting there reading and not pressuring him to tell me how he feels seems to be exactly the way to get him to open up.
Ian’s classmates all drew pictures of him last week. Can you guess which of these was drawn by his new kindergarten best friend?
Ok, I’ll give you a hint: one child couldn’t get enough detail on Ian’s weapons with a crayon so finished up with a pencil.
Ok, I have several questions. First, the face in the middle of the chest. That’s my first question. Second, is that a little robot minion on the right? Third, well, dagger claws everywhere possible is pretty efficient. Finally, the stick figure at the bottom right seems to have done nothing to deserve his fate.
Well, apparently the little guy on the right is Isaiah off in the background. Ian explained it to me. And the face on the shirt is because he was wearing his skull and crossbones shirt that day. And the little guy in the bottom right corner is a human who is evil. Ian added him.
I should have just asked him these questions first, but he won’t talk to me if I laugh when I hear his answers.
I hear whispered from the kids’ bedroom: “Ian, what are you doing?” mumbling “Ian, what are you doing?” rustling, mumbling. I shout “Are you guys in bed?” Hear rustling, then silence. Very sternly, “whoever’s in bed raise their hand.” Not a peep since.