Dad Who?

Some mornings it is really crazy trying to get out of the house and to school on time. So it's nice when we have a nice, leisurely mile and a half drive, with no one mad at anyone or hoarse from yelling. We laugh a lot when things are going well. Friday morning Alex was really excited about his Lego Club's Egg Drop that afternoon - and the fact that it was Friday. Sitting in the backseat he was looking over his egg bomb/contraption (more on that next post), and the following conversation passed:

Alex: I sure did a good job on this egg bomb.
Me: Yeah, you and Dad really worked hard on it.
Alex: Who?
Me: (Rolling eyes) Tall guy, lives with us?
Alex: Oh, yeah, that guy. I never remember his name.

I may have snorted but Alex kept a straight face the entire time. Here's proof that he does know Art, from our hike at Lake Jocassee.

Spring Break Fun, Alex's Definitions and Cool New Shoes

Words, and most other things, are different in Alex's world. After a whole lot of togetherness during Spring Break, I was about to snap. Alex was singing, dancing, talking loudly and generally bouncing his way through Wal-Mart when I hissed, "Stop, you are being crazy!" He stood still for a moment and looked at me. Then he replied, "I don't think so, Mom. I was just exaggerating. Exaggerating is every now and then, crazy is all the time." It made so much sense at the time, that I wasn't even annoyed anymore. Out of the mouths of babes.

We did have a good Spring Break. Day 1: I decided that Monday would be our fun day and I packed everything I could into it. We wanted to make a road trip to the Lego store just this side of Atlanta, and Alex wanted to go to an arcade. (I should clarify here, when I say "we" I mean Alex and I. Art wouldn't be caught dead in an arcade. Well, unless they had classic video games circa 1977 and no other people in it.) So, after some internet research, we headed to Stars & Strikes in lovely Dacula, GA, which as far as I can tell, is just an outer part of Atlanta. It was awesome and less than 2 hours away. If it was an hour away we'd have been back by now. Stars & Strikes has an arcade, lazer tag and a really cool bowling alley. I was amazed that it wasn't packed but it seemed like we were the only ones there for an hour or so. After Alex raced and crashed various forms of transportation (a jet ski, helicopter and motorcycle all bit the dust), we played air hockey, skee ball and bonded while annihilating Terminators. It was a touching mother/son moment.

I would like to say that I made it out of lazer tag with my dignity intact. If I did, though, I might get struck by lightning. First, the disclaimers, I was wearing sandals, I had to carry a purse AND I am almost 40 years old. That said, Alex ran me into the ground. When I paid the admission for 15 minutes, I thought, "What? Only 15 minutes? What a rip off!" By 9 minutes in, my eyes were glued to that timer, checking to make sure it didn't stop every time I looked away. Alex zipped around the place without a care in the world. We were the only two in the room, and everytime I turned around - he was behind me. I have no idea how many times he shot me, but I'm sure it was in the thousands. Whenever your opponent scores a direct hit your sensors buzz and your gun quits working for 5 seconds. It was like Top Gun during the fight training - "Where'd he go?" "Where'd WHO go?" I'd always thought a minute of sparring in karate was the slowest passing of time that I'd ever experienced. I now know that I was wrong.

Bowling went much better for me. There were the regular lanes on one side of the alley and the "boutique" lanes on the other. They were empty, had comfy couch seating, dim lighting, big screen TVs about the pins and (Alex's favorite) cool racing lights on the lanes. We were the only ones on that side. In a rare turnout, I won. Alex has been beating me at bowling regularly for the past year. I think he's a little tired of the lack of competition, frankly. He made me promise we'd only bowl one game before he put his shoes on. Finally, my high school and college PE classes paid off - I beat a 7-year-old!

We topped off the fun-filled morning with the Lego store and the Crocs outlet. Before you accuse me of dragging a poor boy-child shoe shopping, you need to know that Alex loves his Crocs. He hates going barefoot, and I guess they're the closest thing to it that is acceptable to him. Starting with a pair that Mimi got him when he was a toddler, he has had 3 pair of red Crocs in his life. Sadly, our little boy is growing up. He insisted on a black pair this year, with a little Hogwarts shield decoration that clips in one of the openings. He loves them but it's just not the same.

By the evening of Spring Break, Day 1, we'd had enough of each other. I went to a meeting that evening and they thanked me for coming out and "leaving my family." I explained that it was no problem, really!

The middle of the week was uneventful. We hung out, stayed in our pajamas way too long and read a lot of books. If you can peel Alex away from the dual monkeys on his back - TV and Nintendo DS - he's becoming an excellent reader. He's been through several of the Magic Tree House books and also likes Amelia Bedelia. I just started him on Judy Blume's "Tales of a Fourth-Grade Nothing" this week. I love her books and got him a box of 5 of them relating to the Fudge character. We are still reading Rick Riordan, too, but we've finished the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series. We're on the second book in the Heroes of Olympus series. I showed him the series that he'd done on Egyptian mythology but Alex was not interested. He's still deeply into the ancient Greeks. This new series that we're reading deals with Greek and Roman gods and heroes, so he's adding some Latin to his vocabulary.

We had a great long weekend with my parents at the end of Spring Break. We ate way too much, and Alex entertained them. He sang with the children in church on Sunday so they got to see that performance. Before we got to the egghunt, he said he wasn't interested, but when you put him in a yard with 20 other kids and the promise of prizes and candy, he overcame his boredom. I don't know how many eggs he got but I do know that he got two miniature Twix bars. Don't ask me why I know that, it is a moot point, as they are no longer in his basket.

It was really tough going back to school and work and telling Mimi & Paw goodbye on the Tuesday after Easter. When they leave they tell Alex that they have to go check on their dog Buddy. As we drove to school Tuesday morning, Alex was plotting to bring Buddy to South Carolina. Buddy despises riding in cars and is miserable whenever they try it. I asked Alex what sort of plan he had, but that was all, just that we needed to bring Buddy here, and they would never leave. I'll keep you posted if he fleshes out his plan further.

His other new word? Ignorant. He called me that and I paused for just a moment before threatening his life and asked, "What does that mean?" He shrugged and said "I don't know." That led to another mother/son bonding moment - over why we don't call people things we don't understand (and some we do) and what could happen if we do it anyway. And what toys could be "disappeared" if it happens again.

Lemming, or "If everyone jumped off a cliff, would you?"

I volunteered at the school this morning, my usual weekly visit to the library and Alex's classroom. The school library is in slight disarray because of the book fair - kids are in and out looking for the perfect book on which to spend their hard-earned money. That went quietly enough. When I got to Alex's classroom my first mission was to find his lunchbox. It's been AWOL since Friday, despite being gray and orange camouflage with his initials monogrammed on it. I've ransacked the pantry and kitchen here at home and told Alex to check his cubby and classroom. He denied finding it there, but he regularly can't find items right in front of him, so I didn't really trust him on that.

Unfortunately, I didn't see it in his room either. That left the dread lost-and-found to go through. When I say lost-and-found, you may imagine a good-sized cardboard box with a couple of jackets and a backpack in it. It is so much worse than that. I hate trying to find things there. The school has two enormous bins in a storage closet with the cafetorium (love that word!) chairs. The school custodians wished me luck as I went in. Now, the bins: think about giant laundry bins that prisoners in movies hide in and use to escape. Both are overflowing with jackets, coats, sweatshirts, bags, backpacks and at least one thermos that I saw. I can't tell how happy that I was when I unearthed (uncoated?) the lunchbox a foot or two down in the first bin. I may start tying it to Alex every morning.

After that was done, I headed back to see what project I could help with in the classroom. This week the multi-age class is working on South Carolina. They've learned the state motto, highest point, flower, etc. I helped a couple of groups who were using strips of construction paper to "weave" placemats while they learned about the lowcountry sawgrass basket makers. Another group put together a floor puzzle of the United States. I helped with some of the hard parts. I showed them the little man that was formed with Louisiana as his boot, and Minnesota as his head. Sadly, Minnesota is missing, so he's kind of headless right now. They thought that was funny.

At mid-morning, when they headed out to recess, I left to go to work. All was well at that point. I repeat, at that point. I'd been at work for a little more than a half hour when my cell phone rings. It always worries me when my cell rings, especially when I noticed the caller ID. I have the school's phone number memorized at this point, so I knew it was Nurse Karen. (Okay, I gave Alex the benefit of the doubt - it could have been the principal but Alex didn't seem to be that belligerent when I left, so I didn't think there'd been enough time for a discipline problem.) "I just left!" I told Nurse Karen. Alex was hurt but she didn't think too badly. She reported that he jumped off the monkey bars, landed flat on his feet, then his rear end. He was complaining of back pain but nothing seemed to be broken.

So, I left work to pick up Daredevil Dan. I also put in a call to the pediatrician (also on speed dial in my phone). When I got back to the school, an hour and twelve minutes after I left, Alex was waiting with the nurse, with an ice pack on his back. I began the interrogation in the car. It seems that his friend Aileen (a cute little kindergartener) and Alex were playing at recess when they decided to jump off this playground implement because it was "gymnastics." I drove around to that side of the school and asked him to point out which piece of playground equipment they'd used. Alex jumped from approximately five feet up. Aileen stuck her landing, possibly because she takes GYMNASTICS, Alex did not, possibly because he got half his coordination genes from me. He was moving fine but winced when he sat down, bent at the waist, stood up or had to turn his body. The pediatrician's nurse recommended ibuprofen and alternating ice and heat for a while. That's how we've spent our afternoon.

As we drove to get a heating pad and ice pack at the drugstore I said, "Alex?" What, Mom? "I know it hurts so I'm not going into a lot of detail, but DON'T JUMP OFF ANYTHING HIGHER THAN YOUR HEAD!" Okay, Mom. We'll see how long it lasts.

Teacher's Pet (Wolf)

Okay, here is my not-so-secret hope: that I am not the only mother in the world that gets notes from schools like the ones that regularly come home with Alex. Examples include entries such as, "Followed school rules? No, was talking during quiet time. Following directions today? did not, was howling when the teacher explained them, Stayed on task/finished work? No, was too busy talking" and "Sat on friend's head while he was trying to get something from cubby!" As far as we can tell from our interrogations most of these things were done because it seemed funny at the time. The stern parental response would work better if Alex's father was not snorting beside me when I read the riot act to the kid. When I argue that it's not funny, Art replies, "Yes, it is." See what I have to live with, people?

We are 3 stars away (on our behavior chart) to either a trip to Chuck E. Cheese's or a new Nintendo DS game. We've been working on the same chart for weeks. He has to get 3 out of 3 check marks from his teacher and a star at after school care to earn one. We may never finish. Earlier this week when I checked him out after school they told me that he'd earned EXTRA stars for being so helpful. Really? Are you sure you know him - curly-headed kid, about 4 feet tall? They just laughed. We had a close call last week and almost got a 3 out of 3, but the teachers went in and changed one with just half an hour left in the day. Missed it by that much. Alex did have to go home sick one day last week right around lunch time. As we drove home he said, I got all 3 stickers on my chart. I pointed out that people who may or may not have fever and are moaning with a stomach ache rarely misbehave.

If I haven't mentioned it lately (and I definitely haven't done it enough) - Alex has three really great teachers. They're managing two classrooms, 42 students and lots of messy art supplies. I don't know how they do it. And my weekly volunteer time makes me glad they are and that I'm not!

Alex, Interpreter-in-Training

Alex was "helping" me make out the grocery list last Saturday. He actually is kind of helpful. I give him a cookbook of easy weeknight meals and make him pick something. Of course, that meant one night last week we had Taco Dogs (hot dogs wrapped in tortillas with lettuce, refried beans and cheese) but it was one less night I had to decide what to cook. Anyway, when I tired of all the assistance I was receiving, I sent him into the kitchen to ask Art if he needed anything from the store. I listened from the living room as Art went through the list of toilet paper, toothpaste, floss, mouthwash and so on, how much he had of each and then concluded that no, he didn't need anything. When Alex walked back into the living room, I asked him, "Did Dad say he needed anything?"

"No," Alex replied, "but HE said it in a way more complicated way." Therein lies the danger in asking Dad questions. It's better that he learn now!

A New Way to Climb the Anthill

On the way out of school one afternoon last week, I asked Alex how his day went. "Well, I got to the second anthill." I asked what had happened. "Oh, well, is today the day we go to art class?" Yes, it is. "Oh...I just pulled two ants for talking." Hmm, that doesn't sound suspicious at all. I'm really grateful that the boy doesn't lie well AT ALL.

My suspicions might have died there but when I was going through his homework folder I found a note. Now, I have an extensive collection of notes from this kid's teachers, camp counselors and other various supervisors (and, yes, I'm keeping them for posterity's sake), but this was the first one of its kind.

"Alex reached the second anthill today. The first one was for talking but the second one was for calling the art teacher by her first name." At this point the boy came be-bopping through the kitchen. "Hey, Alex, what's Ms. Pernell's first name?" The look of shock and dismay on his face was priceless. He turned a little gray and stammered, "How...how did you know?" I told him that I was a mom and I KNOW EVERYTHING. (I'm trying to keep that little fallacy alive at least through the first grade.) We then discussed how we not only do not address adults by their first name, we also don't call them dude or bro, and we most definitely do not fib to our mom about how we climbed the anthill.

As to how he knew the teacher's name, he cleared that up for me. She has a monogrammed lunch bag which he saw, and read, as he is now reading everything. He reads signs along the highway, TV commercials, newspapers, etc. In fact while he and Art were out and about the other day he was reading signs for him. Alex told Art "There's one sign that Mom doesn't like me to read." Art said, "Really? Which one?" Alex replied, "Well, I won't say it, but it's spelled H-O-O-T-E-R-S." I'm surprised Art didn't drive off the road. Art told him that it was a restaurant where the girls didn't wear very many clothes. Alex wolf-whistled from the backseat. I'm so glad I wasn't with them.

Rare Frog(gy) sighting

Or maybe not - can you sight things that are imaginary and/or invisible? For those who have known Alex his whole seven year life (can you believe he is 7 today?!), you probably remember Crabby and Froggy who were his constant companions through preschool. Crabby and Froggy were an invisible crab and frog (duh) who were usually with us at all times. They seemed to be about real size but could talk, had frequent birthdays and were only visible to Alex. Crabby was a troublemaker who often pestered Alex, Froggy and anyone else unlucky enough to catch his attention. According to Alex, he also briefly worked at Subway. Anyway, as imaginary/invisible friends go, thus went Crabby and Froggy. We had fewer and fewer mentions of them until school started. Now we rarely hear anything about them.

So imagine my surprise last Saturday when Alex and Froggy came to my bedside to announce it was Froggy's 46th birthday. I asked if we needed to have any particular kind of celebration but Froggy is a modest sort and told me he really didn't need anything. Art was really surprised when I told him about it - he hadn't heard from Froggy in many months. I don't remember the last time I'd "seen" him. As the junior partner Froggy was usually relegated to the background while Crabby was their spokesperson. I guess Alex was preparing for his birthday this week and Froggy came to mind. We haven't had any other sightings since but it's good to hear from old friends!