Caillou & Netflix Jesus

A mother can tell. I can diagnose an ear infection just on behavior.

So when my four-year-old daughter turned into a grouchy, demanding, whiny little brat this week, my “mommy-sense” started sending up alarms. A further investigation and the whole sordid truth came out.

My baby girl tested positive for Caillou.

Caillou must be stopped.

I was hoping it was something easy to treat. Like head lice or MRSA. But no such luck.

At one time or another, both my boys had a virulent case of Caillou. It took weeks to purge our household of that infection. Weeks of agony.

For those nursing the bliss of ignorance in this matter, Caillou is a French-Canadian animated TV series. The titular character is a four-year-old boy whose “adventures” are so mindlessly banal the producers elected to compensate by giving Caillou the personality of Joseph Stalin. He’s rude, obnoxious, disobedient and belligerent. And that’s when he isn’t whining.
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Put Down That Jar: Pasta alla Prescott

Moms like myself need some staple meals in our cooking arsenal. Something fast and easy. Something made from ingredients we always have on hand.

Something our kids will eat without a fight.

Chicken-Pasta

Chicken Pasta with Tomato Cream Sauce

Confession: At Chez Prescott, very few meals satisfy this trinity of requirements.

Still further confession: For some years, this dish didn’t either.

And then, one day, I ran out of artichokes.
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Official Nudge: Check Your Neck

Check Your Neck

I’m 99.999% positive that I never gave a thought to my thyroid gland until six months ago.

In July 2015, however, my thyroid and I had a rather ugly introduction. I wish I could say we were able to overcome our differences, but the truth is, our relationship went downhill from there.
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Encouragement for the Parent Educator

I’m sitting down to write this with tears still fresh in my eyes. But, as usual, tears are best answered by The Word, full and fresh upon my heart.

Homeschooling is a calling. And like other callings, not everyone has received the call — and still fewer answer it. If you, too, are one of The Few, The Proud, The Homeschooling…

[Fist Bump.]

I happen to have one of those children whose demeanor is the very bellwether of our homeschooling day. If he is bright and sunny, ready to tackle our assignment list with enthusiasm and optimism, it’s gonna be a good day, Tater.

If he is not, well…

God help me.

Today was one of those days.

The very line of him, seated in his chair at the table, oozed boredom, rebellion, disrespect. (At least, so it seemed.) Narrowed eyes, slack face, fidgety hands, glazed expression. I pray the day will come when this child begins to see me as his partner and not his adversary. But we are by no means there.

So I won’t give you the play-by-play. The denouement reads: So she gave up, dismissed school and retreated to her desk to cry her eyes out.

True story.

A wasted morning, an equally fruitless afternoon, and a good hard cry. Such a crisis of inadequacy and overwhelm can only be answered by a few minutes of aimless wandering on Facebook, right?

Alas…

Facebook Error

Message received, Lord. P.S. Will I ever learn?


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