Worst Parents Ever- Mama.

Okay, I'm sure somewhere out there someone trumps our poor parenting skills. We've never left our kids locked in their rooms with a jar of peanut butter while we went to the bar to watch the Packers (it happened in Wisconsin).

Tonight I was on the website for Henry's school and took a look through the photo album.

Here's Henry in October. The week of the Clemson- Wake Forest game. Wearing a Demon Deacon shirt is like suicide in South Carolina, especially two days before the big game. And we all wore matching shirts that day. I actually told someone at the gym that I only wore Wake Forest shirts to work out in because I didn't care if I ruined them. Because he was the 5th person that day to stop and heckle me.

Next up, the Christmas parade. Henry was so excited to sit on a parade float, but promptly fell asleep before the parade even started.

During Pet Week, Henry asked if we were going to get a pet. I told him we were going to get a new baby instead. He said that babies take too long to grow and asked for a dog while we waited.

The last picture was of Henry's class on St. Patrick's Day. Guess who forgot about wearing green? At least someone gave him a sticker so he wouldn't get pinched all day.

Today, I chaperoned a field trip to the performing arts center on campus with Henry's class. These are usually quite eventful because I always end up with 4 rowdy boys who do not have the attention span to sit through a 90 minute performance of anything. Why can't I ever get a few sweet girls who are enchanted by the Steel Drum Band's rendition of Little Mermaid classics? The boys did cheer along when the band finished the performance with (what else?) the Clemson fight song.

Later, we went to the park for a picnic. On Wednesdays in April, Clemson sponsors lunchtime music-picnic, including free bottles of juice! Henry had a good time running around with some girl classmates of his while I chatted up the moms. One asked if the boys in their class had as many playdates as the girls. (They don't. Of the 5 boys in the class, the other moms either work full time, don't speak English or are crazy.) I tried to casually say that we'd love to get together with some girls for a playdate, but before I could set anything up, June grabbed a plastic baseball bat and bonked someone's baby on the head. Maybe next year.

Finally, Henry has been pretty funny lately. There's a saying at school "You get what you get and you don't pitch a fit." I think this comes from kids whining about snacks. Henry has made this phrase his own by telling us repeatedly: "I do what I do." This was certainly met with a mixed reception. Today, he started saying "I always do what my parents tell me to do." We realized tonight this may stem from from the fact that my general response to "I do what I do" was "You do what I tell you to do." Best mom ever.