An interview by a 4th grader

For school, Lastborn was asked to interview a family member over Thanksgiving break, and then write a piece from what he learned about the person. Lastborn chose to interview his Grandfather - and the result is rather funny.

Grandpa Ross


Have you ever had to live on a farm and had to clean chicken poop, or had to be drafted into the Korean War? Well my Grandpa Ross did. Grandpa’s favorite holiday is Christmas, because everyone is so happy in the holidays and everybody looks forward to church meetings. Grandpa Ross had a powerful father and a mother who kept the house neat and tidy, Grandpa had many difficult chores like caring for chickens and much more. He went to school at Deerfield Grammar School in Deerfield, Illinois. Grandpa had scarlet fever in the fourth grade so he had a lot of work to do to catch up. A role model of Grandpa’s is a farmer next door who was elderly. The farmer is Grandpa’s role model because he did a lot of things while working as a police chief. His goal was to reach college and he did, then a small amount of time after he graduated he was drafted into the Korean War. Grandpa Ross says there are mountains in the north part of the country, as you get closer to China the mountains get higher. A big river in Korea is the Haun River that runs through the capital of Korea. The people in Korea were very poor so they sold dogs to the GIs (soldiers) then when the dogs get bigger the people would steal and eat them, then try to sell more puppies to the same GIs. Grandpa was at the MLR (main line of resistance) for 5 months. After WWII (World War 2) Korea was split in 2 parts, North and South. This split was done at the 38th Parallel or 38 degrees latitude. The only time Grandpa was south of the 38th parallel was after the shooting stopped and Grandpa’s outfit, the 5th Regimental Combat Team, was moved to Pusan, a town way south. Grandpa spent a total of 15 months in Korea and was happy to leave. Grandpa’s favorite time of day is the morning because he gets a lot of work done. He is retired but he can do a lot of things he couldn’t do while working. His most treasured memories are his experiences in Korea. I bet you’ll drive all the way to Schenectady to meet Grandpa Ross.

It's always interesting what these kids will bring from a conversation. Lastborn was asked to follow up his interview with more questions about Korea. So one of the questions he asked Grandpa was if he saw any wild animals in Korea. That's when Grandpa wrote about the dogs. Of all the things he wrote for the follow up questions, I knew that Lastborn would take this as the most important gem. Parent conferences happen in a couple of weeks. I can't wait to hear the teacher's reaction. And if I notice a group of parents laughing while gathered around a piece of writing attached to the wall in the hallway outside her door, I will know that the essays were posted and that they are reading Lastborns.

Bring back some change

Last night, I took Lastborn to the local roller rink for a school sponsored skating night. Luckily, a neighbor was also there with her son, so we were able to chat and Lastborn had company as well.

Understand that both of my boys are far more interested in the junk food available at the rink than they are at the skating, and Lastborn has not yet gotten himself off "the wall." So he was really there for the food.

He skated for about an hour and then came to me asking for some food. I want to raise my children to be independent. So, I handed him a twenty and told him not to spend it all. I was not prepared for his interpretation of that command. I expected that given a 20, he would think to buy everything on the menu in single serving sizes. The "don't spend it all" was meant to control his greed a bit. Instead, he went to the counter with pure economics in mind.

A minute later I looked over to see how he was doing and saw Lastborn, carrying a full pizza with the biggest smile on his face. I happen to know the woman working at the counter, and she knows Lastborn, so she was equally amused with his choice of purchases.

As he rolled back to our table with his beaming smile, he declared, "It was only $12!"

"Yes, but you will not be eating an entire pizza by yourself. " I replied.

My neighbor saved him by suggesting that we bring it home and Lastborn jumped on the idea, acting as if it was his own. Then he rolled back to the counter to pick up his cup of soda.

In the end, we shared the pizza with others at the table and all was well.

He had fun roller skating with his friend. He's growing up and at least he understands the economies of scale and will understand how to save money while shopping.

New Sneakers

Took Lastborn out to buy new sneakers. He is very hard on his shoes and runs through a pair in just weeks. This time, I decided to spend a little more and get the sturdiest I could find. My hope is that if his feet are comfortable, he will move more.

So off we went, to the new Shoe Department near the mall. He was bored at first and wandering around the store. This is a big stage for him because I have decided no more Velcro. The ones with Velcro are just too flimsy and he is lazy, so he doesn't keep the straps tight. He tends to break down the shoe because he wears them too loosely. He understands shoe tying on an intellectual level only. So I have been putting this off for my convenience. We have a week and a half to teach him how to tie reliably.

The real thing I love about shoe buying is getting those great new shoes on. When they fit right, and they are new, you feel so strong. It took a couple of pairs to get him to that point. He has wide feet. So he can be hard to fit, but we found a couple of pairs of 3.5 wide and he was in business; running all over the store. It's fun to watch, because it's how I feel when I put on a new pair of sneakers. But as an adult (and a large one) I'm not supposed to run around the store with glee when I put on new sneakers.

So, I let him do it. There were no other shoppers and the employees seemed to think it was funny. And best of all, he didn't run into anything!!!

On the way home, he figured out how to tie them on his own. He's not reliable with it, but we have moved from theoretical to practical here. It's a big step towards reliable.

Yesterday's Big Bang

(Big Bang Theory. Sheldon notices the paint ball paint spot on "his cushion")

Early yesterday morning, I asked the boys to go brush their teeth at the same time. Usually, we don't do this because it leads to fights over who uses what sink. You see, the boys' bathroom has two sinks. I have always assumed that the one that had globs of toothpaste and junk around it was Lastborn's and the clean one was Firstborns. This state seems to reflect their personalities.

I was wrong. Very wrong. It seems they are both using the same sink. This seems to be the cause of their repeatedly forgetting who's toothbrush is who's; a fact that really grosses me out.

So much, that merely months ago, I threw out all children's toothbrushes in the house and bought new ones. This includes their electric toothbrushes. I bought every toothbrush color coded. Three red toothbrushes, three green. Lastborn chose red for himself because he was dragged along with me on the trip. When I returned home, I placed the toothbrushes, one red manual, one red electric on the right sink, along with Lastborn's medicine. I placed on one of each green toothbrushes on the left sink along with the facial soap that Firstborn uses. I then informed Firstborn that his color was green.

The problem is that Firstborn, is more concerned about which sink is his than Lastborn. And one day, Lastborn seems to have used Firstborn's sink and left his toothbrush there. And thus ensued the resulting big bang in the bathroom.

They were arguing. "No that's my toothbrush." "No. Yours is green." "No, mine is red." And so on.

I tried logic. Bad idea. It seems that Lastborn won't give up the red toothbrushes. I can't remember clearly which color I gave each kid. I can't even remember which sink is who's. All I know is that 2 months is too short a time for me to run out and buy all new toothbrushes again. They will have to share spit. But firstborn doesn't want to use the green toothbrushes. And Lastborn doesn't want to stay to his sink. And Firstborn announces to me, "The left sink is mine."

"Why does it matter?"

"Because it is the left. Everything I do is the left. I sit on the left side of the car, I eat on the left side of the table, my bedroom is the left one and my sink is the left one. It is who I am."

So cousin J, the next time he tells you that you can't sit there, understand that it is "who he is."

The point of the exercise

I've been going on walks with Lastborn over vacation. He's going to Webelos camp next week and I'm told there's lots of walking there. Being a pretty sedentary kid and a bit overweight to boot, I'm worried that he will have a horrible time at camp because of how much they push them.

So today, I gave him the word that we were going on another walk and he should put his shoes there.

His response?

"Can we drive there?"
"Where," I replied?
"To the walk."
"Um. The purpose of the walk is to walk child. "

IMing with Lastborn

Not that I feel a need to spy on my son, but he left the screen open after chatting with his cousin. He was using my account. Here's a typical chat session with Lastborn:

Lastborn: yo beninator

bkn: hey, how are you?

Lastborn: good how are
it feels awkward with this picture (referring to my avatar)
bkn: im good, so how what kind of party are you having?

Lastborn: bowling
do you do clubpenguin

bkn: not anymore, I used to when my friends played it

Lastborn: ok then
fewwsd;'
rsthyuuyuyyggftdsffduykgfdrtrwdsugyrfrthiujtyy4ehtetrgtdgheyteqrrtr34etrtwrthhytrt5he
laugh
fgfjkghfybjklnkutgydseqaertfdhjnmk,ljiugf4tqawedrttuhyfgdgrtuyytuyerrttir5ydeyrtyhjfdtsudrtruseeuryt4ireuysgvufduiugyuirsdghkjfdshtueirshgjfds
hehehehehye
luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuunch

bkn:well i hope you have fun at your party

Lastborn: dffffffffffggggggghggggffdrfsfdtrgfhijkiopufgfhbgbchdhdegfsrtdedtrddfrtfddfokjf;hfxdkkjhglkhghhghhghghhgghhghghghghghghghghhgghghhghghgghghghghghghghgghhghgghghghghhghghghghghghghghghg
i dont know what to talk about
beans
i crave for lima beans
we will we will rock u rock u
sigh
g
g
dd
p
p
ph
gg
hahahahaha hairball
ok bye

bkn:bye
Lastborn: bye

Mom, Can We Go to Church More Often?

A couple weeks ago, I had to bring Firstborn to the dermatologist for a checkup. He has a number of moles she is keeping an eye on. He gets very talkative in her office. Usually she encourages him because of the amazing things that come out of his mouth. Amazing sometimes because they are profound and other times because they are outrageous.

The end result is that I sit through the whole procedure on pins and needles.

We left Lastborn in the waiting room and he forgot to bring entertainment for himself. But when I left, he was doing calisthenics, his latest thing. Luckily, no one else was waiting.

The doctor who owns the practice is very religious. He has pictures of Jesus and the little children all over the office and religious pamphlets all over the waiting room.

As Firstborn and I waited in the exam room, he started his talking routine. He got onto the subject of how mean I am because I won't let him drink Gatorade more than once a month. After all, all the other kids do it.

Mom: "So if all the other kids jumped off a bridge, does that mean you should?"
Firstborn: "Well, it depends on how high the bridge is and if there are jagged rocks at the bottom or deep water. I'm a pretty good swimmer."
I thought for a moment and countered with, "Just because lots of people voted for George Bush in the previous election, doesn't mean it was a good idea."

Firstborn thought for a moment, smiled and said, "You got me on that one."

At this point, the doctor arrived and I had to start worrying about what he would say. We were doing well, until he had to repeat the George Bush joke. How many times do I have to explain that not everyone has the same political views as us...

So we get through this appointment and I'm pretty happy that he hasn't gotten everyone upset. We are waiting in line to pay for the appointment when Lastborn walks into the office and says at the top of his lungs, "Mom, Can we start going to church more often?"

The receptionist is watching me to see my reaction. I'm reeling because I thought I had gotten through the hard part of this doctor visit.

"We'll talk about it in the car," I reply.
"You don't want to go to church." Firstborn says with emotion.
"But this thing says that if I go to church I'll live longer," Lastborn says waving a pamphlet in our faces. "I want to live longer."
"They are just getting you to go to church so they can get more money out of you." Says firstborn.
"We'll talk about it in the car." I say with more emphasis.
Red in the face, I pay my bill, get my new appointment and try to slink out of there.
Again, Lastborn shouts, "Can we start going to church more often?"

We get in the car, and I close the doors tightly and shut the windows before shouting at them about embarrassing their mother in public. They both find this very funny.

Lastborn starts reading excerpts from the pamphlet and Firstborn explains how there is no God and it's all a scam to get money from people. Where did I get these kids?

Its a Cake Walk

Before moving to the midlands, I had heard the term cake walk, but I had no idea what it was. Until our new school started planning their yearly carnival. They went on and on about how important it was to have enough cakes for the cake walk.

Last year at the carnival, Firstborn went into the cake walk himself, but didn't give it a very favorable review because he didn't win. But this year, the boys had a strategy. It was partially fueled by the fact that our now-empty freezer in the basement was the storage arena for some 15 donated cakes from the local grocery store. The thought of those poor frozen cakes sitting down there waiting for the carnival was just too much for the boys. They soon decided that they needed to provide a more permanent home for at least a few of them in their stomachs.

So Friday night, I loaded 15 cakes in my car and drove them to the school where they would join the others to form an army of 300 cakes! With all that booty, the boys decided that their chances were good. They strategized together and decided that if they used all their game tickets on playing the cake walk, they should be able to bring home a lot of cakes.

They worried that we would not get there in time and the best cakes would be gone.

We were there by 10:30 and already people were leaving the building with cakes. The boys worried. But when we arrived in the cafeteria, at least 290 cakes were still there. Right away, the boys got into line and began the play.

Now for those of you who are not initiated in the lore of the cake walk, it is sort of like musical chairs without all the pushing. They set up a path of numbered squares on the floor. The kids proceed around this circular path stepping from one numbered square to the next while music plays. When the music stops, a number is drawn and whoever is on that square wins a cake of their choice.

It took only three plays for Lastborn to win his first cake; but then to choose between so many delicious gems. He chose a one layer Oreo cookie piece and clutched it to his chest. I offered to carry it for him and he seemed reluctant to give it up.

"Can I eat it now?" He asked.

Firstborn was still playing the game. Lastborn went back up to the stage to play again. Both boys came back in a few minutes with a two-layer birthday cake with a thick frosting clown which Firstborn labelled a leprechaun. I guess leprechauns carry bunches of balloons in his mind.

Firstborn was discouraged at this point and sat down with me and the cakes. He convinced Lastborn to go back up and play and even gave Lastborn his remaining tickets.

Moments later, Lastborn came back with a dutch chocolate 2-layer cake with nuts. I asked him why the nuts and he said, "they're nuts? Can I trade it?"

"No," I said. "We'll let Daddy have that one."

They were good with that solution thinking that giving Daddy the nut cake would leave more of the frosting-laden items for them.

We were getting comments on our luck at this point. Firstborn convinced Lastborn to go back up, but this time, he said that he should choose the cake if Lastborn wins.

They came back in moments with a large green sheet cake with blue piping and a yellow rose. Firstborn had chosen carefully based on the required frosting-to-cake ratio.

In my defense, each time I sent them up there to play the game, I did not think that they would really win again. I expected both to have luck like Firstborn's. It was a way to support the school and have fun while doing it. At one point, I was considering slipping a cake or two back on the tables and having the kids continue to play the game. I know the cakes were great, but I think Lastborn was just having a rush at winning something; and even better, being better than his brother at something.

In the end, Lastborn gave the nut cake to his new best friend and we took home the totally over-the-top three frosting-laden pieces to share with our neighbors.

But before leaving, my young entrepreneur, Firstborn, figured out that with Lastborn's luck, we should probably hire him out to walk the cake walk for other people and charge a dollar for each play. We could make a killing.

In addition to our cake walk luck, I also won two baskets in the silent auction. I didn't expect to win anything because we left before noon and the carnival went until 4pm. The only problem with winning the silent auction is that you then have to pay for the items.

In which I am reminded that they are not the same person.

Way back in college, I had these two roommates who were polar opposites. One was always depressed and telling me how sad her life was, and the other was always happy, and excited, and bouncing off the walls. I found the contrast too much to deal with, and while I truly liked both women, I could not live with them. I moved into a room with a single roommate and life resumed its normal flows. Interestingly enough, the two polar opposites became best of friends, and without me to buffer them from each other, they both evolved into normally emotive individuals.

I'm thinking of this while sitting on the sofa with my two boys watching TV and winding down for the night. To my left, Lastborn tightly clutches my arm and tries to melt into me. He is very cuddly and loving and needs a certain amount of hugs and tickles all day in order to make it through. On my right, Firstborn barely touches me, resting his head lightly on my shoulder; no other part of his body touches me. He doesn't really like to cuddle or need to cuddle.

In fact, Firstborn would have little to do with touching me until Lastborn came along and would not be physically separated from me. Firstborn sensed that this constant touch was some sort of threat and he began to sit on the arm of the easy chair with me while Lastborn nursed or cuddled. It was interesting and somewhat uncomfortable to see Firstborn cuddle. He was never a natural at it. He never really relaxes while Lastborn almost melts into me. This was all explained when Firstborn was diagnosed when he was 7. He just doesn't like any kind of sensory input. Touching is uncomfortable for him, but he needs to know that his mom loves him and feels competitive with his little brother. So, I accept what he gives me and try to nurture him in other ways besides touch.

It is as odd to have this asymmetrical feeling of contact while they cuddle as it was years ago to deal with the depression and the Pollyanna all in one room. I'm not moving out this time, but I can't help but scratch my head wondering where these two boys came from.

It will change your life

Remember that viral email that went around about how motherhood will change your life? If not, here's a link. Well, I had a few of those moments last night.

Let me preface this story with the fact that my husband has been out of town since very early Monday morning. He's been travelling a lot lately. Almost every other week. We will not go into the fact that these trips are carefully planned to take him out of town for all trash days, large snowfalls, and my nights out with the girls. Luckily, I have finally found a babysitter who is not scared of my dog, so the nights out with the girls are very doable now.

... unless the weather is horrible, which it has been this week.

So it is Thursday night and I'm running on empty after a whole week of single parenting and two snow days stuck in the house and the night out with the girls cancelled because southern Ohio doesn't know how to manage snow and ice. I've left my older son home alone because the state says he is old enough now and I suppose, I sort of agree. I'm taking my younger son to swim lessons. It's my first time taking him, so I'm sort of nervous. Do I have the right class time? Does he really know how to change himself in the men's locker room? We are asking him to shower before he changes to get the chlorine off. Will he be able to use the showers in the men's room?

I stand outside the men's room waiting, and waiting, and waiting. One by one, the boys with their fathers come out. As the crowd in the locker room dwindles, I notice that I can hear Lastborn's voice. He's goofing off with someone in there. Now Lastborn is sort of a slow child. His entire life is on his time. It drives his teachers nuts and drives his father even nuttier. But he lives in his own world. I usually handle him with humor. Why go crazy over something I will never be able to change.

So, I start calling into the men's room. "Hurry up! What's taking so long?"
10 minutes later, "I'm putting on my shirt." 15 minutes after that, I have to call in again. Finally, he strolls out of the men's room 28 minutes after class let out. It was a half hour class. His hair is wet, his pants have large wet spots. Knowing I'm dealing with dreamy here, I check his bag for his belongings. Goggles? Check. Towel? Check. Bathing suit? Nope.

"Where's your bathing suit?"
"Under my pants."
"Why? I thought the idea was to change."
"Oh. I was wondering why you sent me in there."
"So, you are sopping wet and it's three degrees outside. Did you at least try to dry off?"
"Well... I did, but my towel was wet. I kind of put it on the floor in the shower and it got all wet."
"Generally, things on the floor in the shower tend to do that. I kinda knew you would do that."
"How did you know?"
"This may be hard for you to believe, but when I was a child, I was kind of spacey like you and I did things like putting my towel on the floor of the shower. I had to learn from my mistakes."
Lastborn thinks this is funny. We make our way to the car with Lastborn complaining about how cold he is.

On the way home, I ask him how he would feel if I joined all the old people doing water aerobics in the pool next to where he has class.
"No way," he says making a vomiting sound.
In the mood to bait my wise-alec son, I press him. "Why not?"
"You would have to wear a bikini and that's just gross."
This makes me laugh. Where does he get these ideas.
Calming him, I reply, "No, I wouldn't wear a bikini. Do you know what a bikini is?"
"Of course I do. I see them on cartoons all the time."
"Well, I couldn't wear a bikini, there would be nothing to control my stomach and I'd be jumping around in the water, I might knock out another person in the class with that big belly."
To which he responds, (and this quote must be the best ever) "Mom, you are not as fat as you look!"

I feel so much better now. Let's all go out for pizza and ice cream sundaes.

The really cute part about it is that he really wanted to make me feel better. He's a doll.

The night doesn't end there. We got home and I sent Lastborn on to bed with only 15 minutes left to deal with Firstborn's math issues.

But before we could do that, I noticed that there were only 2 plates in the sink. I opened the microwave where I had left the burritos that were to be his dinner and, sure enough, they were still there! Even though I had told him on our way out that dinner was in the microwave for him. (didn't want the dog eating his burritos. She has bad enough gas without giving her beans.)

So, he eats his burritos and we start to go over his math. He has a test today and he is unsure of how to study. After school, I had him go over the questions at the end of the section, and now we were going to go over them together. In the end, it's 8:15 by the time we are done and he has to get to bed.

He thanked me nicely, which was a great turnaround from the screaming he had given me earlier because I made him do the problems before going out to play in the snow with his friends after school.

I pointed out that it was even better because he got to stay up 15 minutes extra.

"Oh boy. Fifteen minutes." He replied in his best pre-teen snark.
"Yes, but it was 15 minutes spent with your wonderful mother," I countered.
"It would have been better if it was 15 minutes on the computer." He continued to snark.

I guess I should have just taken the thank you and run with it. However, from now on, I will remind him about how he would rather spend 15 minutes with the computer than with his mother every time he wants something from me. "Just go ask the computer to take you to the pool with your friends," I'll say. He knew as he walked up the stairs to bed that he had certainly stuck his size 8s firmly into his mouth on that one.

But he said thank you. And that's enough.

Hole

Yesterday, Lastborn was home from school with a mild stomach bug. Firstborn needed me to bring him into school to sign a permission slip he had forgotten to bring home.

DH could not stay with Lastborn because he had a 9:00 meeting. So, I had to drag Lastborn with me to the middle school.

On our walk from the car to the school entrance we passed a piece of plywood obviously covering a freshly dug hole. The plywood was labelled Hole in red spraypaint. This label must have been placed there for the 8 year old who would be passing by because said 8 year old did not fail to notice the hole and almost moved the plywood and climbed in had I not been aware enough to yell "Leave it!" at him.

Yes, I am yelling dog commands at my son. And yes, he responds quite well; better than the dog sometimes. It's OK. We're stashing away a buck here-or-there to pay for his eventual visits with the shrink.

Second Place

One of the things that Lastborn struggles with is low self confidence. He never got to see his big brother struggle, and he thinks that if you struggle, you must not be very smart/strong/whatever. So he will often give up quickly or cop an attitude to get out of doing something he thinks he can't do.

Since attending Kumon this summer for math, he has learned that sometimes, if you work at something you think you can't do, not only can you learn to do it, but you might actually be good at it. So we are seeing less of a struggle with trying things.

For example, his first year of pinewood derby, he wanted to stick the wheels on and race a wooden colored block, not paint, no cutting, no decorations, We finally compromised at this:


And he did well, until the wheel came off. This gave him hope and he allowed a single cut the next year and painted the car red. The wheel fell off that one too.

Last year, Dad helped put the wheels on. We put the extra work of deburring the wheels, adding graphite and weight. The car was perfect in every way. It didn't do too well though. But Lastborn was happy. His big fear is that he will make a fool of himself. And he proved that he could do pretty well. This is the 2008 car.





We will see what 2009 brings.

But before the 2009 pinewood races, we had to get through the 2008 raingutter regatta. We've never done a raingutter regatta before, so we weren't sure what would happen. Again, Lastborn didn't want to even try. A plain wooden boat with his name on it was all he wanted. In fact, for this race that is all that was needed. It's more the skill of blowing on the sail in the right position than anythign having to do with physics or design. But Dad was able to convince him to go with a cool hammered metal spraypaint and I was able to suggest a Bakugan theme. He had fun working on this boat and because the theme was so popular, he knew he would not make a fool of himself.

His cub leader made a neat block that the boat can rest on with 2008 written on it.

Lastborn entered the first race. He had watched a friend get left at the starting gate in the previous race. So, he was very worried. It would be his worst fear to not be able to make his boat move and since the friend who faltered in the last race was very into scouting, Lastborn figured he didn't stand a chance. The race official called a start to the race and Lastborn concentrated on the instructions I gave him to blow low on the mast to keep the boat from tipping. The boat jumped forward almost halfway down the gutter in one gust of Lastborn's Scalzi hot air. You could see the look of surprise on Lastborn's face. He gave it a couple more blows before his opponent even got his boat to leave the starting line and won the race handily. This meant he would wait for the winners round.

Again, we worried when Lastborn stepped up for his first winner's round. He was going against the boy who pummelled his friend. Lastborn knew his boat was fast, but everyone figured this kid's boat was the best. He had a different design to his mast and sail. But his opponent's boat kept getting snagged on the sides of the gutter and Lastborn's wind was true. He handily won that race too.



All that was left was the final race for 1st or 2nd place. This is where Lastborn's luck ran out. His boat kept getting hung up on the sides of the gutter and he came in second. He was sad, but very happy that he had gotten second instead of coming in last. I'm sure he will be looking forward to next year's race and ready to get a bit creative with his boat design.

Mea culpa

That last post about Lastborn ended up with the wrong picture. That picture of Lastborn was from last spring. It gets better. Really. Look.

I rest my case.

Lastborn provided two funnies this week. We are well into Halloween festivities, so those provided the perfect backdrop for his wit and wisdom.

The first was at a cub scout pack meeting. All dressed in their Halloween finery, the den was in front of the pack presenting what they had learned about Leave no Trace. The den leader asked each of the kids to further explain a specific point about Leave no Trace. He had not assigned these points, he just randomly asked the kids to share their thoughts. He arrived at Lastborn last in the small group and asked him "What about be a responsible pet owner."

I shuddered knowing what my son is capable of and knowing that this point could quickly downgrade into the depths of toilet humor.

Lastborn thought for a while. You could tell he was uncomfortable. You could tell he wasn't sure if he knew the answer. Then he blurted out "Bring a fire hydrant with you?"

The following Monday, the school held a trunk-or-treat. What's that? It's an opportunity for the kids to dress up and go trick-or-treating a second time in October. Don't ask me why we need this, but being a big fan of the whole dress up thing, I was totally into this. We decorated the hatch of my minivan with cobwebs and witchey material and had a twitching severed hand crawling it's way out. Then I brought Grandma's Cauldron and a stick to stir the brew with. Of course, 4 jumbo sized bags of candy were necessary and I had to dress up as a witch. To make sure I was not outdone, I had to do the green face thing too. And a big plastic nose and the whole works. The kids loved it. The adults laughed too. Once everyone was completely sugared up, we headed home.
On our way, I commented on the fact that this makeup might not come off completely, to which Lastborn responded, "did you think of the aftermath when you came up with this plan?"

Little smart alec. I never think they are listening when I lecture them on thinking before they act. Obviously, Lastborn has been listening, but instead of taking my words to heart, he is saving them up to use against me. I hate when they do that.

Quotable Quotes

I always want to record these great quotes when they happen, but it seems like I never have the time until something else big comes up to blog about.

Firstborn was watching a show on TV where someone was remarking on another characters bicepts, referring to them as guns. Firstborn lit up and said, while raising his fists in the air. "I've got guns! They're kind of mushy, but they're guns."

Then the other day, we were driving around town and passed some unfortunate woman who had the dubious honor of standing outside a resturaunt, dressed as a bottle of mustard and waving a sign for the resturaunt. It was very hot and humid and the costume did not fit her well to say nothing of the embarrasment of being seen in this predicament. In my mind I'm wondering what a woman in her 40's has done to leave her dressing in costume on a street corner to drum up business, when Lastborn blurts out, "well, theres a great reason to get a college education."

Ah. My job is done. Even my 8 year old realizes that without a good education, he could end up on a street corner dressed as a bottle of mustard on a hot summer day. I mean, if it were Ketchup, that would be a totally different thing.

After the backache

It did happen. We did go camping. And we are still recovering. I tried to tap into my inner Girl Scout, but this is tough when camping with Cub Scouts. They have a very different view of camping with kids. It includes wild mayhem and lots of kids not taking on responsibility. Very different from my Girl Scout days.

Now, I must point out that when I committed to this trip, it had been a very balmy 75 to 80 degrees for over a week. Indeed, our entire summer has been comfortable with only occasional days over 88 degrees. So I prayed for the cool weather to last. But God, Having a very sick sense of humor, or perhaps answering the prayers of someone more faithful than I deigned to up the temps for this weekend, just a bit.

Lastborn's den leader helped me raise the tent. Firstborn was happy to leave this task to us instead of helping out. By the time the tent was up, I asked Firstborn about the whereabouts of Lastborn and heard he was down by the lake. Were there any adults with them? No. Of course not. Just a couple of Boy Scouts who were along for the trip. And, Oh yes, Lastborn was wearing his new white school sneakers.




Firstborn led me down the very steep slope to the lake and there I found him and all the other Cub Scouts and their younger siblings deep in the water, throwing mud from the lake bed at each other. Oh. Joy. The Boy Scout who had been watching them had wandered off, and the kids were all joyously and loudly calling the mud crap. Along the banks of the lake, rows of little shoes and socks faced the water's edge. None of them were white, not even formerly white. You know what that means... Lastborn is still wearing his new white sneakers.


Because they were already sopping wet and dirty, I didn't pull them out of the water. I'm fairly easy with my ability to save a child from shallow water though I didn't relish the idea of having that responsibility.


After a while of this, we herded all the kids out of the water and back up the hill to change into dryer clothes. The lake had become the big draw of the weekend. And this is one of the areas where I really differ from the Cub Scout philosophy. While each child has to have a parent/guardian with them on the weekend, there is still an overall feeling that someone else will watch these kids. But the leaders are not tasked with teaching any camping or safety skills. They do this well in Boy Scouts, but not in cubs. The end result is that every Cub Scout outing is a big flirt with danger for everyone involved.

On the high note, Lastborn loved the tent and found another boy to play with; one whose parents were unwilling to let him run wild by the lake. They spent Saturday morning running between our two Coleman tents using the "doggie door" as Lastborn named it. It is really a "cooler access hatch" according to Coleman. In other words, you can lay on your sleeping bag and reach out this door into your cooler for a beer. Just what I need on these Cub Scout outings.


Now, on Friday night, there must have been about 20 mosquitoes in our tent. I couldn't understand how they got in there. I was on the kids constantly about zipping up the fly and Lastborn had not yet discovered the "doggie door." But they were there, and with the 80 degrees we were still getting at 11:00 at night, we all had to pile into our hot sleeping bags for relief. Finally, at 3am when I went for a potty break, I returned to the tent and turned my flashlight on to discover these 20 mosquitoes and kill each one of them. Since they had already feasted on me and my sons they left little bloody blotches all over the inside of the tent. It looked like there had been a murder in there. But we were all finally able to sleep and then it started to get cold and it was comfortable in our bags.

Please note: Firstborn had been insistent on sleeping outside with the other Boy Scouts who all got eaten alive. I refused. He hated me. Such is the life of the mother of a tween.

The next day, Lastborn ran around with his friend and Firstborn decided to walk to the beach with the other Boy Scouts. Little did they know that it was about 2 miles away. So Firstborn has quite the tan.

But it got hotter and hotter and I was working on little sleep. So, after lunch, when DH showed up to take the boys fishing, I made the decision that we would pack up the tent and sleep at home Saturday night even if we did stay for the day. I was beginning to feel pretty badly and no matter how much water I drank, I was just feeling worse. I felt this really strong pressure in my head. Like when you hold your breath for too long. It was not fun taking the tent down and packing all our stuff.

So I asked DH to take the boys swimming at the beach and I headed home.

On a funny side note. What happens when a bluebird and a Massachusetts driver cross paths?

Just look at DHs car...

No bolts of lightening

Lastborn made his first communion yesterday.Because none of the extended family could make it, I decided to post the story and pictures here.

We got there very early, so I decided to take Lastborn's picture before the crowds started. This was the best he could do with "Stand up straight next to the font. " This was right before he asked if he could dip his feet in there.

Practicing for the event. He's the only one behaving now. But just wait until the actual event. When they were standing up there at the altar for the blessing, he was dancing around. DH thought he must have to go to the bathroom really badly. No. He just said his feet hurt. At one point he was jumping up and down. I was afraid he would fall off the steps.

The opening procession. Doesn't he look so sweet. His lips are forming "Don't take my picture!"

Anyone who knows Lastborn will recognize my shock and fear when he started down for the offertory carrying this very full glass pitcher of sacramental wine. Exactly which section of hell do you end up in when you drop that and it not only splatters all over the porcelain tiles, but also onto the fluffy meringue-like dress that this little girl is wearing. Notice the concentration.

All dresses remained pristine white through the whole event, and I was able to resume breathing as he successfully handed that jug off to the priest. When he came back to the pew, there was a noticeable bead of sweat on his forehead.

He was very nervous about actually receiving the bread. We practiced a bit before mass, but when he got into line, he immediately put his hands out to receive the bread. I had to correct him and as we approached the priest, prompt him to hold out his hands. Of course, he put the wrong one on top. So I quickly switched them. Then I heard him say Amen in a very strong voice, and he received the bread, took hold of it in his right hand and then didn't know what to do. I could hear the twitters from the people in the first pew as he walked away with the bread in his hand, so I quickly told him to eat it. Then he went sailing past our pew. More laughter as I tried to grab the shoulder of his coat to stop him, but he was out of reach. So we walked around the long way.

All-in-all, no major embarrassments and he did provide a modicum of comic relief to the crowd. A typical Lastborn affair. Despite his lack of preparation for the actual event, Lastborn worked very hard for this event. His CCD class was three hours every Saturday morning for 10 weeks and they required him to finish 2 workbooks at home on top of that. Firstborn never had to do that much. The good thing was that he very much enjoyed his CCD class and his teachers.

Just where did he come from?

Last night I waited outside the room in which Lastborn was participating in a Destination Imagination meeting. I overheard this conversation.

Ringleader: We need to makeup an alien language!
Lastborn: Oh! I know how to speak Alien!

It's all becoming clear now...

The Future Andrew Zimmern

Lastborn has discovered food!

Not that he really needs it, but his dad got him to try a couple of types of seafood and now he has discovered that there is a world beyond chicken nuggets and mac-n-cheese. His favorite is seafood of any kind. If we say it comes from the ocean, he will try it; Even if his grand-dad does advise that some things are better left in the ocean.

Along with discovering new and different foods, he also discovered that some people are somewhat queasy about watching others eat some foods. This only helps to sell him on a new food. Take frog legs for instance. He actually at them. And he actually said they taste like chicken. Those were his words.

On the one hand, I am proud. But I could do without seeing him dance the frog legs across his plate. That's just too much.

Because of this intereste in bizarre foods, DH introduced him to a TV show called Bizarre Foods on the Travel Channel. Lastborn now wants to grow up to be Andrew Zimmern. Although this is better than some of his other career choices, I'm not sure I want to watch his rise to stardom in this field.

Literally

Lastborn lost a tooth last night. The biggest fear among all children of tooth-loosing age is that the tooth will get lost and the tooth fairy will not be able to swap for the desired money. He constantly worries when a tooth gets to a certain level of wobbliness that he will swallow it or drop it down the sink.

Well of course, while Dad was brushing his teeth last night, the latter happened. Like a scene in slow motion, the tooth tinkled around and around in a circle around the sink drain and then, without warning, changed direction and disappeared down the drain, never to be seen again.

Thinking quickly, Daddy informed Lastborn that he could just write a note for the tooth fairy and she would still deliver the loot. So, with great industry and the kind of focus that is never shown to schoolwork, Lastborn sat down and penned the following:

Dear Tooth Fairy,

I lost my tooth, literally.

Love, Eddie