The pile of papers two kids brought home during the last week of school. Any clever organized-parent tricks?
I had an incredible night with the 8 year old …
First, I beat Thing One at MarioKart. After four races, I came out on top. (I credit the Wario bike.) I teased him about his bruised ego. He teased me about how it’d never happen again. Jolliness ensued.
The giddiness then led to one of those conversations I could never plan or request, in which my kid started to tell me all kinds of things about his life — things that it wouldn’t occur to him normally to share but that provided such a precious window into his world. Happily, what started as random details paved the way for actual secrets, hopes, worries and confessions.
And suddenly, I found myself holding my breath, trying not to let on how intently I was soaking up every second, thrilled that he wanted to talk.
It’s not that he doesn’t normally talk. He talks all the time. He just doesn’t report out about his life. When asked about his day, he’s likely to leave out the lead and the nut graf and go straight to the ending anecdote. It’s often a damned fine anecdote, but if he’s not still mentally engaged in the nut graf, it doesn’t ever get said.
He’s almost 9 going on 14, and before I know it, I’m going to be willing to cut off my big toe to learn about his secrets, hopes, worries and confessions.
I think I’ll keep playing MarioKart.
Thing One lost something important to him and is searching the house frantically.
I told him I wouldn’t let him stay up all night looking, and his response was: “What if you lost something special to you, like your iPhone, or baby pictures of me, or your wedding ring? Wouldn’t you stay up all night?”
I might, but I’m not sure how I feel about the order of those hypothetical lost items.
For people who wish they could have been at Thing One’s drama club production of The Wizard of Oz, here it is. He played the gatekeeper. He can also be glimpsed handing props to the wizard from behind the scenes. He comes on stage about two minutes in. (From March 2012)
“You are the most selfish person I have ever met.”
That’s what Thing One said to me tonight when he found out that I had thrown away a dead beetle. The beetle’s name was Al, and Thing Two brought him home from school on Friday. Joe made a habitat for him, and he lasted a total of about four hours before perishing.
According to Thing One, we should hold on to the dead beetle so we don’t forget how special he was. I explained that if we put him in the compost, he’d help fuel future living things, thereby taking his place back in the circle of life.
He didn’t buy it. So I left Al in his habitat for half the day, then quietly took him in the back yard. There was always a chance the kids would forget, I figured. But luck was not on my side.
“You KNEW I’d be furious, and you KNEW how special Al was to me, and STILL you snuck around and threw him away like he was garbage?”
Wow. Any suggested responses are welcome, folks.
I asked Thing Two if he thinks his dad is old. The answer: “Yes. Only one more 40, and he’ll be 80.”
I had a blast tonight giving Thing One a lesson in whole steps, half steps and key signatures. He was explaining how it worked on his viola, then we moved to the piano. He was trying to figure out how to play Ode to Joy on the piano, and why it worked differently depending on which key he started on. Once he understood the relationships between the notes, he was off! It’s so much fun to pass on the things that shaped us to our own kids.
