So that’s how it works

Thomas is busy crafting a Christmas list this morning at the kitchen table. Spelling is not currently his strongest academic skill so I think this is a worthwhile activity. As Christmas lists tend to do, this one is getting long. He’s sitting here with his head in his hands thinking, thinking, thinking about what else to add to it and the longer he thinks the more elaborate the requests become. When I suggested that maybe the list had grown enough for today he asked why. I told him that there was a limit to the number of things that he would receive for Christmas and he grew very serious.

 

 

“Mom. You do not need to worry about this. I know that these things are very expensive but the great thing is that at Christmas that’s Santa’s problem. You should ask for some things too!”

 

I think he still believes.

Observations

After surveying this tree in our front yard yesterday, Thomas said, "Mom! Autumn must LOVE us! Look what it brought to our tree. It's beautiful."

 

Indeed.

I can spell it how ‘bout you?

You know that idiom about not being able to have your cake and eat it too? Generally, I think it’s true, but last weekend we proved it wrong, if only for 90 minutes.

We had a date night dinner with two other couples…that included our kids. No sitters, no guilt! While we were upstairs enjoying adult conversation, drinks, dinner and even dessert, our collective kids were enjoying a buffet of mac & cheese, chicken strips, Halloween crafts, a movie and all the Sprite they could drink, in the basement. We live in a small town with a little hokey small-town country club, but I have to say they got this one right. It was awesome.

When we first arrived we sent our kids and two others off to find their evening entertainment. It seemed as though the situation was well-supervised and the kids were going to be happy as clams. About 15 minutes later I decided to go downstairs and check-in when the third family arrived and their kids were joining the festivities. It had really just at that moment occurred to me that Thomas was likely to be the odd man out in this group of older kids. Imagine, then,  how predictable surprising it was to hear Thomas crying as soon as I rounded the corner toward the basement.

When I got downstairs I found Andrew and a friend double-fisting sugary drinks and Thomas sobbing and swinging at his brother. Needless to say the college student in charge looked happy to see me. I stepped in between the boys and asked for some form of explanation. Thomas was so upset that I could not understand his crazed rant through his tears and Andrew, shockingly, had nothing to offer beyond a guilty grin.  I pulled Thomas away from the other kids and asked him to please stop sobbing and tell me what was wrong. That’s when he explained that Andrew was “putting stickers” on him. It wasn’t immediately clear to me why that was offensive so I called Andrew over to get his side of the story. Thomas was still – quite loudly – maintaining that Andrew was calling names with stickers on his back. 

Huh?

I turned to Andrew and asked if this was true. He vigorously asserted that he had done no such thing. I almost believed him. But, the smirk on his buddy’s face and Thomas choosing that moment to turn his back on me gave him away. This was stuck squarely in the middle of Thomas’ cute little back:



Gosh. I wonder why Thomas would think Andrew was calling him names?

I hauled Andrew upstairs, marched him past the other parents, and sat him in a chair in the dark recess of an empty room. On the way I told him that he shouldn’t use words if he doesn’t know what they mean. That’s when he accurately told me that a Neanderthal was kind of like a caveman. While he sat in solitary, the dads all got a good laugh out of this and Mark took a picture. The educator in our group suggested that he should get a commuted sentence if he had spelled it correctly. Damn if he hadn’t.

I’m pleased to report that the rest of the evening went uphill but I can assure you that the next time Mark misbehaves I’m breaking this one out of the verbal toolbox.

Yin and yang

Things go in phases around here and right now we’re in a fort building phase. The boys spent last weekend, and much of this week, creating these structures on their bedroom floors. Thomas’ finally got so unwieldy that it toppled and then had to be put away because the 3,120 books (approximately) that had been used in its construction were obstructing the path between his bed and the bathroom. I love this activity for lots of reasons, with the chief reason being that it doesn’t involve electronics and it does involve a good deal of creativity. What I like most about it, however, is what it says about my kids and their styles.

Thomas’ fort was built with the express purpose of creating a home for all his “boys.” These stuffed animals are loved.



Notice there’s a bunk for each one of them and the Pillow Pets and Shamu get the penthouse.



At first glance this looks ramshackle but he put a great deal of thought into this and wanted to make sure each one had his own place. The majority of the books in this creation didn’t come from his bedroom and he carried them all by himself from all over the house up to his bedroom. When it was time to put it away – since we wouldn’t have passed a fire inspection with this in a pile in the middle of his room – he dutifully carried each book back to its rightful home with surprisingly little complaint.



Andrew’s fort is, well, not like this one. Interestingly, though, it took him longer to construct.



He’s more a modernist than his brother and each one of those books was chosen with purpose. He likes my old Advertising textbook because he thinks it’s an antique. (I swear. He really said it.) He likes the Lance Armstrong book because he still believes Lance to be a champion. Prime Obsession is there because it’s about math and he apparently likes prime numbers. How Things Are Made’s presence probably requires no explanation and To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street also has obvious meaning for him. He would want me to point out some of the lovely features of his fort, which include a garage. It’s not for stuffed animals, but for Lego cars.



When asked to describe Thomas’ fort, Andrew described it as a “mess” and “not well planned.” Thomas is steadfast in his stance that Andrew’s fort is “small and boring.”

I love that they have each other and that – occasional armed conflict aside – they’re pretty good buddies. BUT! Won’t it be fascinating to watch them grow and conquer this world from such different perspectives.

Argue with that

With collective practices and games, the boys have to put on their soccer gear, on average, five times a week. You would think with all the opportunity to get good at it their speed from start to finish would improve. It doesn't, however. Putting on shin guards, socks and shoes takes anywhere from five to 15 minutes, depending upon what level of focus we (I use that pronoun generously) possess on any given day. 

Thomas is usually much faster, but this morning when he was supposed to be getting ready for his game he was, instead, skipping around our bedroom and bathroom singing at the top of his lungs. When I finally whipped around and told him to PLEASE stop singing and put on his shoes he looked stunned and then smiled and said, "Alright, Mom. I'll do it, but I am just being joyful! What's so wrong with being joyful?"

Thomas, for the win.