Monkey Boy is very smart.
He is also, possibly as a result, or possibly not, having some problems with his teacher.
It is getting to – or, indeed, is already there – a not very nice, and a very scary place.
He had a big talking to by me and his father and, as he generally does afterwards, feels a bit blah. Understandably.
Thus, this morning, he embarked on his “What is the point of school? I’m not learning anything. I don’t see why I have to go.”
Now, I must also add that he was asked to brush his hair 893 times, Godzilla was asked myriad and various other things, none of which was acknowledged let alone actually performed, including, but not limited to my request he “go and get a facewasher NOW!” whilst I was attempting to restrain now three year old and his yogurt smeared hands and face from touching anything and to grab