Today, Helen and I ate lunch with Connor and several of his classmates and their moms. One of the moms had been volunteering in the classroom that morning and she told me she about died from cute today. Apparently, the students were studying cause and effect, and their task was to write a cause and effect story about a very bad day they had.
Connor drew a blank, looked at the other mother and said "I don't think I've ever had a bad day". As it should be, she thought.
Tonight, when I was putting Connor to bed, he ranted amid tears that he "never got anything he wanted".
I think I'd like to parent Connor during the day and turn him over to his teacher at night - especially nights at the end of very long weeks.