Not My Story To Tell

This week Alexander was naughty. He wasn’t bad, or malicious, he was doing what nine year old boys do, and, in the tradition of being nine, he got caught.

Alexander learned lessons about honesty, and about friendship. He is slowly learning that Mr. G and I will always agree on everything discipline related, and that he will always have to deal with both of us. Alexander has learned humility, though it’s a lesson most of us need repeated several times.

I, as a parent, had to drop my son off to school knowing that he would be punished for the day. Every molecule in my body wanted to keep him home for the day and protect him from the mess he’d made for himself.

And I want to tell y’all just what he did, because it’s sort of glorious in it’s mischievousness and surely it will be a Gottlieb story told for decades to come. It will start with, “Reember when Alexander was nine and he…” and it undoubtedly will end in giggles. I’m thinking that my husband is already working it into a speech for his wedding day.

But I can’t. Because my son is too old for that, and it’s not fair to him.

Just trust me, it’s been a horrible few days for me, because raising a mensch is a lot more work than I’d bargained for.

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