1,2,3,5. It's a new numbering system I invented. It's the Project 365 way to count. It's different for everyone. And it's different for each person every year. It's deceiving because it appears as if it should keep you on your toes, trying to determine the pattern. But the pattern is really simple. You just use the numbers you want to use! I'm sure they'll be teaching it in schools soon. It will increase confidence and raise test scores since there are no wrong answers. I wish I'd have invented it when I took Algebra.
Today's photo is probably a little weird! It would have been better with a different photo but I just didn't have the heart to humiliate Caelan. He lets me get away with the occasional fist-bump now and I don't want my privileges revoked.
Before he could read, I spent much of my day reading books aloud to him. My mother-in-law also read to him for hours at a time when he stayed with her. At some point she picked up a series of books about a community of bugs. The stories were written to help teach young kids virtues such as kindness and hard work. And of course respecting your mother and father. I love my mother-in-law for always stressing that one. She can (and usually does) work that into any conversation she has with them.
Calean's favorite book from the series was about a bug named Cooty-Doo. Cooty-Doo's dad was a sanitation worker and all the kids at school teased him because his dad worked on a trash truck. Cooty-Doo was embarrassed by his dad but eventually realized how wonderful his dad was and ignored the kids when they teased him. And he lived happily ever after!
Now that we live in the country, there is no trash pick-up service. That means we have to load our trash into the back of the pick-up and drive it into town to drop it off at the office of the trash service.
We live far enough outside of town that we coordinate trash drop off with picking Caelan up from school so once a week when he comes out to the parking lot after school, there's his dad or mom sitting in the truck with a trash can in the bed. It's especially lovely during the hot months. But he never complains or yells at me to hurry up and drive away before anyone sees him. I always call him Cooty-Doo. He doesn't complain about that either. Maybe it's because he's so grateful I have never gotten out and taken pictures of him approaching the truck with the trash can in the bed parked in front of the school! That's what I wanted to do this day. But I remembered how hard I've worked at earning my fist-bump privelages and just shot this one out the back window.