Me to Thing Two: “You’re not going to do anything else today until you pick up those toys you dumped out in the living room.”
Thing Two: “What about breathe?”
We’re about to do some Father’s Day fishing, and Joe is rounding up cicadas to use as bait. Thing One, who has decided he loves cicadas, likes to call them his pets AND doesn’t want us to kill ANTS inside the house, is trying to prevent it. I just heard him saying, “James! Don’t help Daddy!”
UPDATE: He’s now arguing that cicadas are rare, since they come out so seldom. And that it’s unfair to catch them, since they’re too easy to catch when they’re on the ground, and too slow. And that killing any kind of creature hurts God’s heart. This kid’s full of save-the-cicada arguments.
Why did he do that?
Is that why he made the song Black or White?
Is there anything that could turn my skin from white to black?”
And so on.
— Thing One” —
I came home from a long walk tonight to find Joe reading the first Harry Potter to Thing Two. And so it begins.
I find myself feeling super sad about putting Thing Two to bed tonight, on his last day of being 4. Turning 5 feels huge. My kids are now both school aged. How did THAT happen?
My husband’s response is, of course, “Want to have another?”
I think he’s kidding.
Thing One seems to be enjoying some popularity at his adopted school (where he goes for just one month in the summer). Along with that popularity seems to be some extra attention to, and from, the ladies.
Here’s the deal, straight from the mouth of my 8 year old.
He’s got four crushes. (I’ll leave out the names, though he did list them for me.) The first is his best crush, because she’s pretty and has a kind heart. The second is the one he seems to have the most contact with. His younger brother says they were playing together on the playground. And then there are two others.
He told them all they were his crushes on the first day of summer school. Some rolled their eyes, and some said, “I don’t care.” But at least one took notice.
Crush No. 2 wrote him a letter on Tuesday. She folded it up and gave it to him in class, and he read it after school. It said:
“You’r eyes are very pretty. I love the way you smile. You are supper nice. I love when you kiss me. You are a great drawer. I just Love you.”
I can’t argue with her taste.
But I DID have a chat with Thing One about appropriate ways to let someone know you like them when you’re in third grade, and how kissing doesn’t show up on the list. He agreed, thankfully.
(I have yet to point out to him the irony in the kissing, given that he’s refused to let anyone in his family kiss him for about a year. He’s been saying he hates kisses. I guess he doesn’t hate kisses from third-grade girls?)
I’m just trying to figure out where this came from. I truly didn’t think he noticed girls. He said he thinks he should write a note to his first crush that says, “Do you like me”? with yes and no answers, and pass it to her during class. He predicts she’ll circle in between, indicating she likes him as a friend.
I asked him if he’d told the letter writer that she wasn’t his favorite of the four crushes. He rolled his eyes and said, “no, of course not, Mom!” I’m not sure whether to be relieved that he’s not hurting her feelings or horrified that he has thought things through to that extent.
Third grade just sounds much older than second grade. But are we really starting all this already?
Grappling with how much to share about my kids. I live so publically, but that’s not a decision they’ve made for themselves. What if they’re furious in a few years that my huge network knows all these stories about them, not all of which are flattering? And beyond that, we have no idea yet what effect digital archives will have on people who come of age in this era.
Thing Two (who had his first-ever all-day school experience): He learned about the landing pad for smells inside peoples’ noses. He caught cicadas at recess. He had time to eat only his grapes and a few potato chips during lunch, and then he had to go back to class. During rest time, the kids could choose to have their eyes open or closed. He chose some of both.
Thing One: He made a pyramid out of legos but didn’t have time to make the coffin for the king. He caught cicadas at recess. He made new friends and saw some from last summer. He also made a list of four girls he has a crush on, told them all, and struck a deal to kiss one of them.
He and the girl apparently agreed to kiss each other, but she didn’t keep up her end of the bargain, so he ended up kissing her but she didn’t kiss him back.
Where, I asked, did you kiss her?
Where was the teacher?
At her desk?
Where on the girl did you kiss?
Her arm, Mom … what did you think, her lips or something?!