I must inform you that although the school year is fresh, your boy is already failing miserably.
Here are a few points to consider.
Frankly, it would make things a lot easier for everyone here – i.e. our teachers, students and the ‘Royal Baker’ who decorates your son’s birthday cake, if we could abbreviate your son’s name from:
Haman the son of Hammedatha the Agagite, son of Srach, son of Buza, son of Iphlotas, son of Dyosef, son of Dyosim, son of Prome, son of Ma’dei, son of Bla’akan, son of Intimrom, son of Harirom, son of Sh’gar, son of Nigar, son of Farmashta, son of Vayezatha, son of Agag, son of Sumki, son of Amalek, son of the concubine of Eliphaz, the firstborn son of Esau…
to ANYTHING ELSE.
Morning attendance takes forever. By the time we finish reading his name, the class is over.
Might I suggest a nickname – How about Nick?
More to the point; your son is a mess. I blame the ADD for his obsession with woodwork. His attention to detail is excessive. I just can’t get him to put down the wood.
And just what is going on over at your house anyway? What are you… a family of woodpeckers? What are you guys building over at your place? God forbid the kid sees a termite and goes insane.
Shifting gears, I’d like to focus on character development for a moment. Would you not agree that a person’s character is best reflected by the company he keeps? Your boy only talks to people who bow down to him. What does that say?
Although I’m pleased with the exceptional pride he derives from carpentry, I’m not happy with his overall attitude. Specifically, his predilection to play hangman and the lotteries to the exclusion of everything else.
And while we’re on the subject, I find his obsession with astrology and his fondness for gallows humor a little more than slightly disturbing.
Together we can work on improving his language skills. He is still struggling with the ability to distinguish between such seemingly straightforward phrases as ‘that’s acceptable’ and ‘no means no’.
I worry that given enough rope, he just might hang himself. Because like the song says: “when Haman loves a woman…”
P.S. Please stop sending 3-cornered pastries for lunch. Your son refuses to share.