This fall we enrolled the oldest three children in a Montessori charter school.
If you don't know what a Montessori school is, you must find out about them, I am completely in love with this method of learning.
But that is a whole other post for a whole other day.
My point is that for the first time ever I got to attend parent teacher conferences.
Most of what I heard from all of their teachers was what good children I have, areas in which they could improve and how they are all multiple grade levels ahead in reading.
In fact, Doodle's teacher banned her from working with the grammar station because it's just too easy for her, she has to find other ways to challenge her in that area.
I think I'm raising a family of book worms.
All except Dubs.
I think he's still finding how he fits in a school setting, but is still doing well academically.
He is a very smart kid.
During our chat with his teacher she informed us that our middle child has acquired a new skill since starting school.
What fabulous new thing could this be? Fractions? Contractions? Cursive?
Nope, none of those things.
It was burping.
You heard me right, belching, discharging air through his esophagus.
Over and over and over, all day long.
He learned from another student how to suck a gulp of air into his stomach, then regurgitate it instantaneously.
Back to back burps All. Day. Long.
Loud, distracting, annoying burps.
Yup, my son is that kid.
His sweet teacher had to tell him multiple times a day that his behavior was not appropriate in the class and asked him kindly to stop.
When he continued, she explained that burping is a natural thing and that if he really, truly needed to relieve the gas in his tummy he could walk out of the room, belch, then return to his work.
He took this as permission to go burp in the hallway.
Over and over and louder than ever.
So loud in fact, the teacher of the neighboring classroom heard this strange sound coming from the hall and had to go check to see if a child were choking and dying in the hall way.
Her entire class was distracted at the sound.
Yup, that's my boy.
Correction, I blame this one entirely on his father.
Remind me to tell you about the time Mr Bird was in elementary school and was sent home for farting in class.
Yup, Mr Bird, that's your boy!