My seven-year old daughter is a poorly socialized homeschooled child.

Think back. Do you remember? Playing at recess when the shrill whistle blew? It shrieked, “Stop what you’re doing. Come get in line.”

At the soccer game the other night, the whistle blew. My daughter kept obviously playing while all the other girls shuffled over to the sidelines.

She doesn’t know the whistle means “STOP” and to file along with the other kids.

She’s a real competitor, and I have no doubt she’ll get it figured out.

My kids run the gamut of playmates–young to old–white Caucasian Americans to Puerto Rican–English to Spanish–doctor’s kids to farmer’s kids–athletic to artsy–Christian to Hindi.  But I can honestly say, “My kids lack socialization skills.”  And laugh.

They’ve got great interpersonal skills, but I am leaving it to the big world to teach them to get in line.  Don’t ask so many questions.  Stop when the whistle blows.

Anyone else watched as their kids “get socialized”?  How does it make you feel as a parent?  Sad?  Happy?  Deflated?  Irritated?

Happy Monday!  (So sorry I’m full of questions lately!)

Terri

In the draft bin: Butyrate/Short chain fatty acids as related to my Metametrix is still getting researched. This butyrate is fascinating stuff. Where have I been all of these years?