military school

Jazz in the park again last night. Getting Thing One, Thing Two and their father out the door with dinner and accessories is still kind of an effort, but we are getting more proficient at it every week. Dad pushes the boys in the jogging stroller. I pack up all the stuff and drive the car over in case we need to beat a hasty retreat. By the time the fellas make it to the park, I have had a chance to stake out a spot, spread out our stuff and lie back and breath deeply. I'm sure people must think it is odd for me to show up alone and flop like a corpse once I get there, but it is so nice to have the time to collect my thoughts. Or, even better, not think at all.
The boys love the walk over -- Griff is so nosy he can't stand himself and Allan falls asleep immediately, but both are satisfied. They both like the music and enjoy all of the activity at the park. Griff still won't crawl off of the blanket because of all the grass, but, for right now, the 8 by 8 tarp is plenty of room for exploring.

Griff has become defiant. Or, more correctly, more defiant. Last night when he decided to walk on top of Allan to get to a toy, I told him 'no, no' and moved him and told him to 'be gentle' with Allan. In response, he looked me directly in the face and began saying, in a menacing tone and while waving his arms, Ma!ma!ma!ma! Then he turned and proceeded to try to trample his brother again. So I moved him, told him 'no' and to 'be gentle' and he yelled at me again. At what age do they accept kids in military school?