I saw one of Owen's school papers the other day. It had a lovely stick figure drawing and the carefully printed sentence, "I like to play chest whis Sam."
See, guys, you all thought he had a lisp, when really it's just that he has a very casual relationship with the English language. They haven't made a formal commitment yet. It might not work out, long term.
On that note, and in the spirit of being a better parent, I've made it a personal goal to never say no when one of them asks me to read to them.
So far, I've managed to meet that goal, but JESUS CHRIST I am SO OVER reading this particular version of Jack and the Beanstalk. It's not a short book. It's not a well written iteration. Even the illustration bothers me. There are more internal inconsistencies than any one children's book has a right to contain. I'd be HAPPY to discuss all the reasons I don't like this book. I could write a dissertation about the stupidity of this book. And my dissertation would be more interesting and better written than this book is.
But every morning, and every night, Owen and Lilly choose this book to read.
It's like nails on a chalkboard.
So our take home lesson? Self-improvement sucks.