This Child

Nov 7, 2007 | Boy Wonder

This child. This has been making me laugh. And cry. And marvel.

This child. He wasn’t always so tall, or his hair so long. I wasn’t always so old. But we’ve always been friends. Always a little bit grubby after a day at the beach.

This child. Still loves rocks and animals and legos and all things science. But I think that he might someday love girls too. I’m anxious that someday is closer than ever before.

This child confessed last night that he was a “fly-trap.” I think he meant “babe-magnet”. He shook his head and laughed. I held my breath. So much has changed. And yet some things stay the same.

He told me his secrets and his worries and we are still friends. Friends don’t tell secrets. They hold your worries close to their heart.

This child is growing up. Faster than I ever expected. Too fast for me to keep up. This child has me wondering where all the time went.

You’ve Been Served

Oct 8, 2007 | Boy Wonder

You can see from the date, IZ was served this morning. He was none too pleased. As I wasn’t the recipient of this legal notice, I laughed a lot longer and harder over it at coffee. I suppose that’s not supportive of my parenting partner; however, IZ isn’t the first person in this family to find themselves in need of a lawyer. Boy Wonder was 4 when he first demanded something in writing.

“But, you can’t read!” I responded in dismay.

“Still, I’d like that in writing.”

“I suppose you’ll want my signature in blood next!” Needless to say, I didn’t do it. I’m not that cowed by this child, much.

The back-story to this particular document is that our child has a bad habit of running sick without telling us. Running: to the point of playing out in the chill with a cold when he is prone to infection instead of staying down and resting just days before we leave for vacation. Running: to the point of $400 emergency room visit just days before we leave for vacation—all because he neglected to tell anyone that he didn’t feel so well a few days previously. If you didn’t feel so badly for him, you might find it annoying. Or maybe I’m just a bad parent.

When he was small, he was enough of a hugger that getting a physical beat on him was easy. Occasionally, he’d run by you on the way outside and stop for a hug… when you got scorched from a little lovin’ you knew he wasn’t feeling so well. If that failed, he would eventually melt down in terror and grief and yeah, spike a fever the next day.

But at nearly 11, there is no stopping him when he is sick. And he’s learned not to say a word until he can no longer exist in his own denial. The last bout of infection, just two days before we left for vacation (why is it always just days before we leave for vacation???), we heard him sobbing uncontrollably downstairs in his chill zone. Here’s the thing, our child does not cry unless he’s miserable. The stoicism that allows him to run himself into the ground extends to his emotions.

Of course, one swipe of the thermometer told me what I already knew. He was fighting an infection and he needed meds ASAP. So, off to the emergency room we ran. I used the short car trip to inform this child, yet again, about the perils of ignoring self care. Which is why, 4 days later while on vacation, when he ended up with yet ANOTHER infection due to a lack of “self” care… I hit the roof. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Why didn’t you tell someone ages ago that you were itchy?? For the love of all things holy, why didn’t you tell me this before we left for vacation????” Lecture I did.

Now, my child has figured out that when his mother snaps, which is not all that often, the best position is one of silence and agreement. If at all possible, sitting back and looking interested, nodding one’s head vigorously enough to cause a concussion is preferable. And so he does. He figures appease me, then trot off to do whatever he was going to do in the first place. I swear the child actually dozes off mid rant, I just can’t prove it. Teenagedom can’t be far away!

Evidently, he has decided that a few CYA measures are in order. I suspect the thought occurred to him right before he passed out during my last rant.

For the record, because obviously he gets his lawyering skills from me, this is not the first draft of his notice. No, that draft was missing a date and riddled with spelling mistakes which I promptly circled. As everything is a learning opportunity in these parts, I set him to looking up the proper spelling in his dictionary. He wrote out his spelling words several times each and then rewrote the notice with proper spelling and punctuation. If you’re going to produce legal documents, you should probably make sure they’re legible and dated.

Heaven help us if he discovers carbon paper.

Sepia

Jul 31, 2007 | Boy Wonder

Ten year old logic is fuzzy, at best. Ten year old BOY logic leaves a mother shaking her head. I mean, what’s up with shoving all the shorts and t-shirts that don’t fit you, along with 15 plastic hangers, into one of three drawers you have for your clothes only to then stash all your good t-shirts and hoodies underneath your bed? Seriously. This child perplexes me.

He, of course, seems to have a reason for everything. Not that any of them make much sense. Witness this encounter.

Me: (assembling the infrastructure of a plastic storage box). . . “Let me get this straight. You took this box apart because the big spools of thread wouldn’t fit in the box if the infrastructure for the compartments remained?”

Boy Wonder: “Right!”

Me: “Did you ever consider using this box for all your small sewing notions and leaving the big spools of thread in the wood organizer I gave you?”

Boy Wonder: “But you have the wood organizer! You took it, remember?”

Me: “Right, I took it after you emptied and left it on your floor… I mean, did you ever consider using it BEFORE you disassembled your plastic storage box?”

Boy Wonder: “But I wanted it all to fit in one box.”

Me: (exasperated, because what’s up with the all or nothing logic?) “Pffft! You and your father! Black and white thinkers, I tell you.”

Boy Wonder: “I don’t really think in Black and White, you know. I’m more of a Sepia Thinker.”

And this is the REAL reason we call him Boy Wonder: he leaves his mother wondering where he gets this stuff.

It’s a Good Thing

Jun 5, 2007 | Boy Wonder

How to Make a Great Paper Box.

It’s a Good Thing!