We dressed up the kids and took them out to dinner tonight. After spending $1100 on our car yesterday, I was prepared to go to the grocery store and buy a supply of white bread and peanut butter, but my husband had a nice, big gift card to my favorite restaurant. We went out and pretended that we always order wine, calamari, filets and ginger-crusted salmon that melts in your mouth and tastes like perfection in a superb, pink package.

I digress.

My son ordered for himself off of the children’s menu, but instead of saying that he wanted, “crab cakes” he looked at the poor waitress and just said, “I want crabs”; which is something you pick up at an entirely different type of place.

But, other than that, he was on his best behavior and was quite charming.

And, that right there? Got the whole family free dessert.

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My nine year old son started attending school when he was two.

For the first year, or so, he went to a county-run preschool for children with developmental disabilities because of his motor and speech delays. It was a good place for him to get daily therapy and socialization, but it wasn’t really the right fit for him.

When he was old enough, we moved him to a local preschool and into a classroom with a teacher/student ratio of 2/9. The teachers were attentive and patient and we kept him there through Pre-K, which, in the end, turned out to be a pretty disastrous school year.

For Kindergarten, we turned to a small, private school where they hired me to work as an aide. If my son ever had any issues, I was right upstairs, and when he moved into first grade I started working in the cafeteria so that I could be there even more.

This year, he is in third grade. I don’t work at the school anymore and, ironically, it is the first time that I have sent him off in the morning without ever-looming worry. I know he will be fine.

What makes this year so different isn’t that he’s doing better academically; he has always done well in that regard. It isn’t because he’s more independent, because that has been a long, slow process that I couldn’t help but see coming. And, it isn’t because he doesn’t choke as often when he eats…though that is pretty awesome.

This year is terrific because his teacher “gets” him.

There is something to be said for understanding that everyone, even children, have different personalities…and boy, does my kid have one! The third grade teacher appreciates my son’s sense of humor. I know this, because almost every time she approaches me to tell me when he’s been up to, she is laughing.

The other day, when she saw me at the school, she did just that.

Apparently, that day, when the class handed in some papers, she saw that my son’s wasn’t labeled with his name.

She noticed before he walked away and said, “Hey, wait a minute. How will I know this is yours if you didn’t put your name on it?”

He took his worksheet back from her and quickly took pencil to paper.

Then he handed it back and said, “Here. Mine’s the one with the X.”

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On Saturday night, our family joined another family for dinner at a local restaurant. I got hooked on fish tacos in San Diego, so that was what I ordered. Note to self: Ohio is not San Diego and all fish tacos are not created equal.

Nevertheless, I ate my meal. My son was sitting next me and when I finished, I wiped my mouth, then discreetly leaned over and whispered, “Hey, do I have any food in my teeth?” Then I flashed him my pearly whites.

But, instead being discreet himself, my son loudly replied, “No, but your breath sure smells like fish.”

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I have been really busy lately. Like, so busy that I don’t call my friends, or my dad, or even the dentist when I have a toothache so wicked that I want to knock out my molar with a sledgehammer.

That busy.

My mom has been a huge help to me. For the last few weeks, she has taken one, or both, of my kids to her house almost every day. She usually picks up my son in the morning while my tween daughter hides in her room, then she drops him back off in the early evening. Even though the BlogHer Conference is over, I am still catching up, so he went over there again yesterday.

When she dropped him off after dinner, she told me that they had just had an interesting conversation. Although my mom knows my son is famous for making inappropriate comments, she asked him, “Do you think I’m pretty?”

My filterless boy replied, “Half and half. You’re half not-pretty because you’re old.”

“What about the other half?”, my mom questioned.

And, he proved his ability to manipulate when he said, “The other half is pretty because I love you.”

I have never seen anyone give a simultaneous insult and compliment quite so well.

For the record, today is my mom’s 77th birthday, so feel free to tell her how awesome she is for putting up with me for all of these years. You can do that now, BECAUSE SHE JUST GOT INTERNET…which is really like MY birthday present, because I don’t have to print my blog posts anymore.

Please, don’t tell her she is half-awesome. You can leave that to my kid.

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