After years of me calling Evan feral, Missy labeled Evan free-range. This year, the free-range boy starts getting saddle broke. He has to learn the difficult task of organized playtime aka preschool. Sounds simple enough. Yet, we still started out with bucking and braying. After days of talking about how much fun preschool is, Evan decided he didn’t want anything to do with preschool. I chased him all over the house, trying to wrestle him out of jammies and into clothes while Evan talked like Max. “No school. No clothes. No car.” When that didn’t work for him, he tried being sweet. “Mommy, I rock you lap.” Sorry, no snuggle time right now. I lost the battle of shoes over boots and Doug carried a very sad boy to the car. Maybe Evan was embarrassed to go to school with the backpack that Sarah used in Kindergarten. “Mu-therr, are you really making him use that old purple backpack?” Perhaps Evan didn’t like his lunchbox being a freebie from a trade show. Is it possible that his mother and father’s combined bad hair genes making Evan look like Gene Wilder caused him to be a little self conscious? I think it was just a little too early in the morning for Evan.

When I went in to pick Evan up after lunch, he looked at me, squinted and growled, “I no go with you. I busy.” It took 15 minutes to convince Evan that it was time to go home. The next morning, Evan was dressed and demanding school before I was even awake enough to open my eyes. He had one small problem. Evan removed his homework assignment from his sister’s old purple backpack and deliberately peed on the homework. I don’t know if he didn’t like the homework or if that was his idea of using the materials he had on hand to express himself artistically. I don’t want to stifle the boy’s creativity or hurt his feelings, but I don’t think Evan will be turning in his first assignment. It was certainly indicative of the quality of work I have come to expect from my little free-ranger.