You can’t win ’em all

Catholic School

I had the chance to pick up B  from school recently, which is a rare experience for me. I insisted on a detour to CVS where we purchased both necessities (milk, Diet Coke) and non-necessities (gum and stickers). This meant that we deviated from the usual route, but change is good, right?

Last night, on a break from ranting about the raccoon sized hole in my kitchen ceiling, I told Mr  how much I enjoyed getting to be a daytime Mommy. I think he secretly enjoyed bursting my bubble when he relayed the following quote from our son:

Daddy, please don’t let Mommy pick me up from school again. I like it so much better when you pick me up.

I’m not sure what I did wrong – I thought we were having a good time!

B, apparently HATING the walk home. Who knew?

Where have you been, Charming Billy?

B has great plans for his future. Right now, when he grows up he wants to be

A teacher… And a daddy.

He talks constantly about saving his baby things for when he’s a grown up, because he “might have a daughter some day.” (It’s always a daughter.) He was telling me the other day about his plans for his grown up life, when he will have a kid, and maybe a wife.

“Or a husband,” I said

“Mommy,” he replied, looking at me as if I were a complete idiot,I am going to be the husband.”

This is usually my cue to remind him that some boys grow up to fall in love with girls, but other boys grow up to fall in love with other boys, and that either one is wonderful. (I credit Dan Savage for that bit of wisdom. Yes, that Dan Savage.)  To which he usually replies, dismissively, “Mommy, I already know that.”

This time I didn’t, and I worried to Mr that maybe I should have, that maybe I wasn’t setting a good example, and maybe he was going to grow up to be a bigot, or maybe…

Maybe,” said my husband patiently, “Maybe he’s straight.” Oh, right. That’s a possibility.

But he is still wonderful.

I just got schooled by a 5 year old in an alligator t-shirt

I made pancakes for breakfast this morning, in celebration of a long awaited free dress day at school and the upcoming weekend.

B is obsessed with cooking, and always want to help out in the kitchen – which I usually discourage, because we have possibly the tiniest, least hospitable kitchen ever. (Just ask the leaking pipe spewing water on my cabinets or the two square feet of counter space.) However, B was up and dressed (in his alligator t-shirt, because his teacher loves ‘gators), and dying to help out, so I agreed to let him help me flip pancakes…

Modern kitchen

This photo bears exactly zero resemblance to my kitchen. Dammit.

And he immediately burned his index finger on the hot skillet. This is his first burn, and I know it hurt – although it didn’t blister up, so I don’t think it’s that bad. BUT, it was 7:15 am, and he was miserable. I got him an ice pack and apologized profusely, telling him that I really want him to be able to help me in the kitchen, but that everything is so hot! I said, maybe you can help me tomorrow – we can do something that doesn’t involved hot skillets or the stove.

He looked at me thoughtfully, and said,

I know how I can help you right now, Mommy! I can help you eat the pancakes!

I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.

My city kid

I grew up on ten acres on the outskirts of a small Southern town. As a child, my best friend and I played in the woods with my dogs, pretending to be Indian princesses or fairies until my parents called us in for dinner.

When I moved to Exile, the culture shock was extreme. So many people, so much noise, traffic, horns honking … it’s overwhelming. Watching B navigate childhood here has been, at times, terrifying – but our hard, nerve-wracking work has paid off. Continue reading

Puppy training.

On a clear Saturday earlier this month, we dusted off B’s scooter and went for a walk around the neighborhood.

We took a little family stroll over to the library, where B got his own library card, and checked out several books. After a stop at Starbucks, we sat down to enjoy our coffee while B worked on his Woof-bot routine.

This child is so delightfully weird. Please note that he wore the mask during out entire outing, even under his helmet.