I called it love.
Some called it obsession.
Retroactively, I also call it Assignment.
Next week is the Little Fayoumis' last week of Kindergarten.
How's he getting to be so big, so fast?
We'll have to work with him on his name and address over the summer. He keeps forgetting the area code, and he can't spit the whole address out in one chunk. The information's there, the retrieval's just hard. I shudder to think how a police officer upon finding him, were he lost, would have to ask him so many bazillion different ways in order to find out where he lived to bring him safely home.
He knows his first name, and his last name. He knows his phone number, and the area code, but won't say them together. He knows the address... but won't say it all in one chunk. Aaaaaaagh, quoth the parents. He's supposed to know this. We've been over it with him. Again. And Again. Just, evidently, not enough. Auuugh.
But he's still a good Little Fayoumis.
Called Darkside. Talked for almost an hour. Vented about stuff. He was appropriately irritated at the idea that someone should not know me sufficiently to mention that other people less understanding would wish to institutionalize me if I were having little breakdowns like this, in the middle of the breakdown. In fact, he was downright angry. He had the words I needed, and listened relatively quietly while I laid my pain where he could see it.
Talked about his reputation. He was evidently unaware that he is regarded as one of those rare genius-type programmers. He was suitably amused at the idea of me being group leader, while N% was head programmer, in my group.
He hadn't known about my job back home. Shared a few details. As I had been the muffin queen, he said, I surely would have known the muffin man...
He's a sweetie, and a treasure forever. Mentioned that my mother was sending his birthday gift to me, and he cringed. Mentioned that I had asked his mother what would be good to get him for his birthday, and she hadn't the foggiest, as they usually gave him car repairs. He was a little surprised, but then not-surprised. Talked about disappointing holidays, and the consequent development of my wish list. Pointed out that my birthday was the day after his father's, and his birthday was the 22nd, and I really want to see him some time.
Gotta love my Blondie.
So, I was assigned to clean the kitchen. This means refrigerator, as well as stuff. So, clean it I did.
I identified some things that needed to be used: to wit, the shredded mozzerella, the red sauce, and wasn't that turkey pepperoni getting a little elderly? Well, no, but actually it would go well with the other two...
This is the sound of me leaving for half an hour or more to go get more mozzerella, as the faux mozzerella that I thought would be good was too dried-out and old.
Good pizza, though.
I made a triple batch and substituted one cup of whole wheat flour for the usual. Mmm.
It kneaded nicely too, today. Yum.
Guess who started studying algebra today?
None other than our Little Fayoumis.
He tried to add numbers and sharks, you see.
So we played with this for a while. One shark plus one is one shark and one! One shark plus two sharks and one is three sharks and one!!
One shark plus a shark and an octopus is two sharks and an octopus.
I told him that he was learning a really cool kind of math, and its name was algebra, and furthermore, that he was learning it a lot sooner than I was, since I had started learning it at twelve.
He rocks. He really does.
The big dark blue candle for the healing of me ran down sometime this morning.
We got the shipment of locusts yesterday. I think they were supposed to have been delivered to E's father, but they got all over the general Phoenix area instead.
Hop. Hop. Hop.
You can't walk three paces down the sidewalk without disturbing at least one, sometimes more. Poor Little Fayoumis is not used to this.