When we found out, last week, that there might be a problem, I didn't react defensively. I mean, the logical explanation for her lack of academic progress can be found in these photos:
We've spent an entire year playing waitress, which works out great, because that might be the only job she'll be able to obtain.
Joshua thinks the problem lies in her not being able to memorize. Fine, I say. She just won't be one of those waitresses who can keep everybody's order straight in her head. She'll have to write it down.
The strange thing is, other than being the only child in her class who can't correctly identify the letters in the alphabet, she is, I've been told, "off the charts" in verbal communication. Like, heads and shoulders above everyone else. Great, I say. So she'll have to rely on her notepad to remember what the special of the day is-who cares? She's going to sell the pants off that soup du jour - what with all her fancy communication skills and everything.
Even so, we knew we had to take immediate action. It was difficult, but nobody ever said parenting was going to be a walk in the park. So, we spent the weekend binging on one final round of restaurant. And let me tell you, the place was packed. We could barely get a table. Afterward, though, we sat our sweet girl down on the couch and gave her a good old-fashioned talking-to.
Winnie, we said, you're four years old. It's time to get serious.
I don't know about you, but I think we dodged a serious bullet.
Doesn't she look happy?