Dirty Hands...

...ain't made for shakin'; ain't a rule that ain't worth breakin'.

I *think* these are the half forgotten lyrics to a country and western song that's been rattling around in my head this evening. I have no idea when I heard it or who sings it but it sprang into my head when I caught sight of H's filthy fingers.

And look at those nails. He shreds his nails and fingers exactly the way I used to when I was his age. He makes them bleed...just like I did. Do you think it's genetic? I certainly don't do it now so it's not learned behaviour.

We've decided we need to tackle his teacher about *nasty* girl. She's definitely stepping up her attacks and she's sly. H was a bit tearful when he came home this evening. He's not confrontational at all (except with us ;-) so he's struggling a bit to work out how to handle behaviour he's never come across before. It's just one girl and it'll get sorted but I do think it must be tough to be eight sometimes. Making sense of other people's actions is difficult enough with 40+ years of life experience. It must be totally baffling to a child. Still he's happy enough that Bob (we're sending in the big guns!) is going to talk with his teacher and I'll watch with interest to see what happens. Bob is charming, gentle and well-mannered but when he's angry (and he's angry) he's a deadly weapon; a charming, gentle, well mannered cruise missile in fact.

Henry is currently bouncing on our bed singing a song about farts and making Noah laugh so he's obviously not too traumatised by the whole thing.

Now I'm off to listen to yet another book about Vikings. Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III appeals to H because he's scrawny and brainy and always comes out on top. Good job there are so many books in the series!