What if

Once again it appears that three weeks have passed. I hate that. I hate that it happens without my really being aware of it and that I have little to show for it. What if I was either busy discovering a cure for cancer OR immersed in the every minute of the days of my little people? Would that missing three weeks still bother me as much as it does?

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Inquisitive is a nice euphemism for Andrew's incessant curiosity. Like many kids, he asks an astounding number of questions each day. Lately, though, he's started posing more rhetorical questions. These are not fabricated, nor are they even embellished. These are actual What if questions he's lobbed out into the air in recent weeks...

"What if I ate four thousand marshmallows and then drank four gallons of Coke? Do you think I would explode?"

"What if the United States just killed Moammar Gadhafi instead of trying to talk him into being nicer?"

"What if I purposely did a belly flop off the high dive? If I did it on purpose would it still hurt?"

"What if people pooped from their mouths and talked out of their bottoms?"

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We're getting lots of practice at the "not reacting" part of this parenting business.

Back at ya

Andrew has to take a sack lunch to summer camp each day. His preferred sandwich rotation is, to my mind, a little boring. In an effort to spice up the offerings and also expand his horizons I try to slip in small things that I know aren't his very favorite but hopefully he'll at least try. Last week it was blueberries, yesterday it was red peppers, today radishes.  I'm guessing a lot of the surprises go in the trash but he doesn't mention them and I don't ask.

On Monday I slipped in a little note instead of an obscure vegetable. It just said, "I hope you have fun at the movie. I love you, Mom."

When I opened his lunchbox that evening to get it ready for the next day I found that he had surprised me right back.  This was inside:

I think I'll keep him.