Butterfingers

At the end of school Alex's multi-age class had a "Family Feast and Awards Program" extravaganza. Ten minutes before it started we told Alex that it was time to go. "But I'm supposed to dress up. I need to wear church clothes! And a tie!" After fussing at him for not saying anything sooner, we ironed his white dress shirt, found his red and black tie and matching socks, church shoes that fit (sort of) and headed out the door. He doesn't have a black belt, so we left his shirt untucked.

When we got there, just five minutes late, I told his teachers about his dress code. They all laughed. As I suspected, they did not issue a dress code for the performance. The kids asked what to wear and they just told them to dress nice. When a few of the clothes-horses asked "church nice?" the teachers said that was fine. His teacher told me that Alex then said that he usually wore a tie to church. For the record there were three boys in ties for the evening. Alex's friend Ian had on shorts, a dress shirt and tie, and his buddy Jamie wore shorts, a plaid shirt and one of his dad's ties with a map of the world on it. They all looked good. Especially when they rocked out to the musical portion of the program.

A high point of the evening was the class's rendition of "We Are Family." They modified the lyrics to include "in a multi-age ant colony." (Ants are their theme.) Many pictures and videos were taken. Each of the family groups (8 groups made up of 5 children with a mix of kindergarten and first graders) sang a song. They were very cute and did a great job. After that, there were the awards.

Each child got a candy award - Snickers for a child that's funny, Peanut M&M's for someone "small, sweet and a little nutty," etc. Alex got the Butterfingers award for breaking the most things accidentally. On the way home Art asked him about breaking things. He said, "Son, you don't break that much at home, why do you at school?" Alex replied, "Well, they have a lot more stuff." I tried not to laugh. Art said that wasn't a very good reason, to which Alex answered, "It's SCHOOL property, Dad." I guess Art shouldn't worry as long as it's not OUR stuff.

It was a late night, and Alex didn't get in bed with the lights off until after 9. It was rough getting him up the next morning. He wasn't unhappy about it; he just didn't see a need to go to school anymore. He thought the program wrapped it all up nicely, and they should be done now. I kind of agreed. Art said he didn't particularly want to go to work, either. In the end everyone agreed that we had to go whether we wanted to or not. Alex was persuaded to go (at least for that day) because he wanted to get people to sign his yearbook.

Symbolism?

Alex is very into "elements" and "symbols". I think it's due to the cartoons he watches - elements from Avatar: The Last Airbender, and symbols from superhero stuff. This morning before school he brought me a piece of paper with "his symbols" on it. It had four line drawings starting with a heart on top, a swirl below it, then a lightning bolt and finally, a star. Catchy little logo, I thought, maybe he's going to be artistic like his Uncle Brad.

"Do you know what they stand for, Mom?" Um, no. What? "Love, mind control, power and plans." I was pretty much speechless with that bit of news. Mind control? Really? What kind of TV is Art letting him watch? I thought America's Funniest Home Videos was the worst. Now the child is plotting world domination through mind control. I'm just hoping he remembers his good ol' mom when he's a global tyrant.

Speaking of which, I went to an elegant and lovely Mother's Day Tea at the school on Friday. The children sang "What a Wonderful World" for us, told us one at a time why their mom was special, then served us lemonade and cookies. They weren't even allowed to eat until the moms were gone. (And I thought they showed particular good grace in not rushing us out the door.) I'll try to figure out how to post the video here. I got the camera for Christmas but haven't investigated how to get the movies out of the camera. It was impressive. They did a bang up job with the table settings. Lots of pink and flowers were in evidence. Each place had a decorated frame with your child's picture, a card with a poem composed in your honor and a gift they made in art. (I got a necklace made of clay and it matched what I was wearing.)

Speaking of what I wore, the night before, teasing Alex, I asked what I should wear for the tea. Alex thought for a minute. "Prettier, but it's not the prom." So, something between business casual and semi-formal? I went with my floral Easter dress and a cardigan. He was fine with that. He thought I should have a corsage but I explained with my allergies it might just kill me. Thankfully, he dropped the idea.

Chef Crabby

One day during Spring Break Alex and I went to Greenville to the Children's Museum. It was great, but crowded. He loves that place. We also went to the art museum next door. Less love from Alex, but I found out that he has a deep affinity for modern art. Alas, they do not let you touch the artwork. They were very definite about it, too. Especially Lee Krasnick's, even if you must find out how the big glops of paint feel. And, they made me carry the paper kite he made at the Children's Museum. Apparently he did not look trustworthy with a kite in that wide open exhibit space.

On the way home in traffic we pulled up behind an SUV with a news crew inside. I pointed it out to Alex. He demanded that I pull up beside them so we could see who it was. After several blocks we were next to them. I did not puposely chase them down, I swear. Disappointingly, the driver was not a recognizable celebrity. He was in a t-shirt and baseball hat. I told Alex that he must be a cameraman or something. From the back seat, with a big sigh, he said, "Oh, I see like 15 camerman every day." Really? "Yeah, down in my secret lair. Crabby has a cooking show."

So not only is there a secret lair below our house (oops - let that cat out of the bag!) with a top-secret science lab, his invisible crab is also filming cooking shows there. My life is even stranger than I knew! I suppose this is a natural progression for Crabby since he was such a stellar Subway employee last year. Perhaps that inspired him to continue in the culinary arts. Now if I could only get him to cook dinner for us. Maybe if we went vegetarian?

Worldwide Pants

As we walked into the house Saturday afternoon I mentioned that there was something on his pants. From there the conversation went into overdrive:

Alex: I wish I didn't have to wear pants.
Me: But then everyone would see your underpants.
Alex: But if EVERYONE didn't wear pants ...
Me: Oh.
Alex: Revenge, Earth, revenge!

This last was uttered in the style of a Shakespearean actor, complete with fist shaking at the sky. He then went on to say that the Earth (the planet itself) should have to wear pants to see how it felt. Then, he mused that Earth pants might trap all the people who lived underneath them. Poor pants people. Perhaps it would just be the southern hemisphere.

Whistler's Mother

Alex has been trying to whistle for months. His younger cousin Will learned how a couple of months ago and Alex was horrified that a 4-year-old could do it when he couldn't. He solicited advice from Papa, who taught Will. That helped some. I wasn't much help. I could show him how I did it, but couldn't really explain it to him. Somehow on his own at school he managed to pick it up. That was about a month ago.

I now hear whistling in my sleep. Literally! He sometimes whistles when he wakes up in the wee hours (5:47 a.m. recently). He is whistling at this very moment while I type and while he is home sick [written 5/2/11] on the couch, between sips of water and nibbles of crackers. He whistles at people, birds, dogs and anything else he can think of. Occasionally he whistles to answer questions. I think I've broken him of that - I explained (okay, not very calmly)that we humans can't understand whistles and we must SPEAK to each other.

I blame Star Wars. Specifically, R2D2.

Confidence Man

You might think, from this picture, that Alex dressed himself for school today. You would be right. While I was in the shower and Art was making breakfast, Alex ransacked his dresser drawers until he found this hand-me-down Clemson jersey. We even had words about my requirement that he wear a t-shirt underneath it. Art cut that one off at the pass by mentioning that football players wear t-shirts (and shoulder pads) under their jerseys. A light appeared in Alex's eyes. "Mom, do you have any shoulder pads I can borrow?" No! I had this horrible vision of the damage he'd do, barreling down the halls of the elementary school, mowing down any haplessly slow pedestrians.

Some days I wish I had half the confidence Alex has almost all of the time. He's had a couple of rough days this week. Tuesday I got a phone call from the assistant principal. You just know this is not going to be a friendly call. (Note to school: why can't you make daily random phone calls to parents just to tell them how well their kid behaved that day?) With a heavy heart I picked up the line that Kitty transferred to me. On the up side, I got to chat with the assistant principal. She and I had never talked before, I usually speak to the principal.

Apparently in the line to leave the classroom for the day, there was an eye-poking incident. Doesn't that sound horrible? The other boy was crying and had to go to the nurse to be looked at before he left. I wanted to hide under my desk. It's a big L-shaped desk and I'm pretty sure I could be comfortable in the back corner for a while, especially with provisions, and maybe a TV. Since school was already out, Alex was sent on to After School Care with a warning from the assistant principal. I didn't have to come get him early, I just needed to discuss things with him.

When I walked in the school to get him, the college student at the desk told me Alex didn't get a star for something that had happened that afternoon. "What the heck did he do now?!" Turns out that they had also intervened in the eye-poking situation, so at least there was only one black mark on his file for the day. Alex came walking up the hall, and when he saw me he threw his hands up in surrender (at least I like to think that's what it was), and said, "I can explain!" His side of the story included a demonstration of a Robert DeNiro/Meet the Parents-style "I'm watching you" motion with his fingers in a V. Add to that two bouncing little boys ready for dismissal and the poor kid got a finger to the eye. Mind you, I am not excusing Alex in this scenario. But I was terribly grateful that it seemed to be an accident. A boneheaded, unfortunate accident. Alex lost privileges for a few days and got a stern warning from both parents. He has apologized to the other child, several times. Here are the reasons I think he is telling the truth about it being an accident:

1) The other child - I've never heard Alex express dislike or animosity towards him. They seem to play well together and Alex's teacher says the boy is also energetic. 2) "I can explain" - I'm pretty sure if it wasn't an accident, I would have been greeted with tears and a litany of the horrors that Alex had suffered before the final straw and poking.
3) The demonstration he gave where he acted out the whole situation. It seemed reasonable. I'm a little concerned about his depth perception, though.

So, yesterday, we set off to school. Audio from the ride to school:

children's music on the radio
"Keep your hands to yourself today!"
"OK."
"Calm down."
"OK."
"Don't be wild."
"OK."
more music

The assistant principal kept him in from recess for the day as punishment. I think he handled it well. He made it through the entire day until I showed up to get him. Of course.

I signed him out at the desk. As I looked up the hall one of the minders was talking intensely to Alex, Augustus and a boy a year older than them. Alex was red-faced and shedding a few tears. Now, this, THIS was a situation where he shared some blame. I could tell that from 20 yards. What I pieced together then and over the next hour, using my new found skills as an Inquisition interrogator, was that this was a continuation of a disagreement that began earlier in the game room. The other boy went to the same preschool as Alex and Augustus and there had been some difficulty when they were younger. He's a big, rambunctious kid and the younger ones didn't like to play with him.

So, Alex finds himself across the table from the boy while they were playing with Legos, board games, something that's supposed to be fairly innocuous. And for no reason at all, just something eating at Alex found its way out of his mouth, "I don't like you!" No justification whatsoever. The other boy grabs him and won't let go until Alex hit and kicked him. The teachers saw it all, and separated them, sending the older boy out of the room. Which seemed to help, until they called Alex to the front when I got there. Of course, he intercepts the boy in the hallway. No adults saw what happened, and Alex refused to make a statement at the time. I made sure the boy was okay and took Alex outside.

Thus began the third degree. By the time we got home Alex professed no memory of the events in the hallway. "I can't remember!" I told him if he couldn't remember what happened 20 minutes ago, we were headed to the pediatrician tomorrow to get a detailed examination to see what was the matter. (Sorry, Dr. Draisen, I was desperate.) What he finally admitted was that when he saw the boy in the hall, he repeated his feelings about him, and blows were exchanged. Not sure who landed the first one or if either of them were solid or not. They keep the kids under tight supervision so they were seen before anything else happened. Which led to the object lessons (and lecture) for the evening.

Here goes: There are people out there that we don't like. This does not mean that we have to tell them that, especially to their face, for no reason. We have to work with others even if we don't want to do so. Also, just because it pops into our head, it does not mean it has to come out of our mouth. I went on in this vein for some time.

I'm not sure if it helped but we did see the kid this afternoon when I picked Alex up and there was a "cut direct," Alex acted like he didn't see him, and he sure didn't say anything to him. Probably not the best reaction, but I'll take it over "I don't like you" and fisticuffs any day.

It's almost the weekend. Tomorrow is Friday, thank goodness. Maybe spring fever will die down and spring break will cure some of the wildness running through the school halls. I'm looking forward to Saturday morning. Four of us are going to downtown Greenville for a photo scavenger hunt. It's a benefit for Let There Be Mom, a great organization that helps terminally ill mothers make mementos like scrapbooks, videos, etc., for their families. I hope it doesn't rain. We are a slacker team and certainly not all-weather. When I told Alex that I would be out with some friends for the morning, he said, "You have FRIENDS?" Sigh.

Signs of Spring

Are you looking for a definitive sign of Spring? Well, as someone who shares a house with a 6-year-old boy, I can give you one: dirt in the bathtub. I don't mean a dirty bathtub, as in it needs cleaning. (I'd probably qualify.) I mean when certain short people start wearing Crocs again in warm weather. And playing outdoors in said Crocs. And semi-permanently staining their feet the color of red dirt. And the fun part about Crocs? They allow you to bring the dirt, twigs, leaves and assorted detritus inside with you. Alex took a bath last night and when I went to take one this morning, I swiftly decided a shower was the way to go. At least until I have a chance to clean the tub.

As I did laundry this weekend, I found another point to ponder. Art handles bathtime so I've rarely seen this phenemonon in action. How DOES one remove their pants, underwear and socks all together, at the same time? Alex apparently can do it consistently, not just as a one-off occurrence, because there were several days' worth of his wardrobe arranged just so. Yet he cannot tie his shoes. Hmmmm.

When I picked Alex up from After School Care Friday he was in the art room, one of his favorite places there. I think they have a line of credit with Oriental Trading because he rarely comes home without some sort of thing he has put together, decorated, glued, etc. Friday they'd decorated small pillows and stuffed them with cotton balls. There was also a plastic pocket on the pillow case where you could put in a picture. Alex had written his name for that space and decorated the pillow case itself with writing he called "Chinese characters." (Genealogy note: he claims have Chinese and Indian heritage. Art says if he doesn't mean Cherokee, he is not correct. I'm staying out of it.)

The caretakers/jailkeepers called Alex out over the speakers to let him know I was there. That's when he walked out in front of me, several school employees and parents - with the pillow stuffed under his shirt, announcing in a loud voice (with a Scarlett O'Hara accent)- "Ah'm having a BAY-BEE!" At least it was Friday. I made him demonstrate the performance for Art as well. As for Chinese characters, it just reminded me of that old Chinese proverb and curse: May you always live in interesting times.