science and my quest for greatness

Having all kinds of thoughts about homeschooling lately. Mostly, "Oh mannnn... I am doing this wrong." But then I go look up what exactly a 5 and 6 year are supposed to know, and then I'm all like, "Hammock time!" I kid. But they are fine. And smart. So I think maybe I'm doing it right.

This week we had the chance to go to Science City, (thanks for sharing your pass, Eunice!) which is not a real city, much to Brynn's disappointment, but a kid's museum of sorts with science-y things. It was very, very cool. I'd like to spend a week in there, if they had a concession stand with funnel cakes and sausage-on-a-stick. On second thought, I would probably stay anywhere with that criteria. Man. If I ever get my life made into a movie and get fabulously wealthy, I'm going to get a carnival truck and keep it in my driveway, and pay some carnies to keep the snacks coming. Then I imagine I will get enormously fat and die of heart disease, and my children will start a foundation to end fried food, and all the commenters on Yahoo will call them terrible names. Maybe I'll just stay broke and eat apples.

The thing I was saying was the Science City thing, that was fun. I'm always trying to get my kids to learn stuff on accident, and it works a lot of the time. Every now and then, I'll strike out. "Look!" I'll say, "A new book! About the invention of the SEWER! Is this great or what?" And I get a half-hearted response, because he was really hoping for some Dilbert. That boy and his corporate comics... But usually I can find a documentary or an educational book and they like it, and learn stuff to shame me with in the car. "Hey mom," they'll say, "Did you know that ___ can ___?" and I have to be all like, "Uh, no. No I didn't." So this place was great for that, learning while having fun. 

On the way out of Science City, Toby decided that he was now smarter than me. "All brains are good," he says, "but mine is extra good." I had to try to set him straight, although I suspect he's just biding his time until he's "grown-up smart" and has me beat. By then, I'll probably be fine with it. I'll tell him it was all because of my excellent parenting, and that he should buy me my own personal taco truck for the driveway.