What exactly is a Mickey Mouse garbage truck anyway?

On Friday, D's teacher approached me at carpool. "I want to speak with you," she said. I nodded, as I struggled to keep Baby J. from arching his back as I buckled him into his carseat.

"I'm listening," I said.

"We did an activity today in class, big, bigger, biggest. Sorting by size. It's something all the other kids can do, but D. had no idea how to do it. So I want you to work on it over the weekend."

"OK," I said.

She smiled, waved to us, and we drove home. And over the weekend, I worked big and little into a lot of our activities, and she's right: D. hasn't a clue.

I know he'll get it with practice and repetition. I know that it's just a matter of working on it. But HOLY GOD I AM SO TIRED OF WORKING SO HARD.

I know, I know, a little hard work never killed anyone. And for as hard as I'm working, D. is working eleventy-billion times harder, I get that. But I was so thrilled with how well he adjusted to the classroom and how his social skills are improving that it never occurred to me to worry about how much he was actually learning.

Colors are another big one. Right now, D. will point to, say, a fire truck, and say, "It's adom fire truck." (Adom, of course, being Hebrew for red. Do you mean to tell me that not all my readers have become fluent in Hebrew?) And I say, "Yes, adom." And he says, "It's a blue fire truck. Green." WHAT??? He'll point to my (green) shirt and tell me, "It's a pink shirt. Kachol. (Kachol is Hebrew for BLUE.)" And I tell him, "No, it's a green shirt." And he says, "It's a Mickey Mouse garbage truck." And I say something clever like, "Hey! Let's watch Blue's Clues!"

Anyway. I just want to be a lazy mom and know that Dora the Explorer will pick up the slack on what I fail to teach my kids. Unfortunately, it appears that this job requires actual work. Who knew?

(Hey, how many people do you think will read this and totally miss the sarcasm?)