Picasso

Take a good long look at this face.

I know. I ask if I can take a picture on his last day of school and this is the best he gives me. My point proven on this post.

But this boy. He may very well be the next Picasso.

At least he is to me, anyway. His creative eye, and that picture, they both just slay me.

What We’ve Learned

Today is Jedi’s last day of 1st grade. He’ll be there for 2 hours this morning to pick up a report card and say goodbyes, before coming home. For the entire summer. 3 long months.

In honor of the occasion, a list of what we’ve learned this year:

• 1st grade math is not a strong subject for either of us. I’m afraid I may have to acquire a calculator by next fall.
• Jedi likes girls. A lot of girls.
• Look nice when attending school events, because they will take pictures and they will post those pictures online.
• School portraits are much more hassle and more meaningful than I would have ever previously imagined.
• Don’t buy expensive supplies. They just get lost/broken/passed around.
• Kindergarten is more fun than 1st grade.
• Jedi’s teachers have said he has problems adjusting to change, but it seems to me he’s done remarkably well.
• I will proudly and without hesitation turn into “that mom” whenever my child receives any kind of award at a ceremony.
• Jedi is not very good at sports, but he likes to run.
• When you keep your child home because he doesn’t feel well, most times he will magically feel better an hour later. Though not always.
• Bullies can sometimes turn into best friends.
• You become the most popular kid in class when you bring an iPad to recess.
• Bananas that have burst open in a backpack are gross to clean out.
• Any day is a good day when you get to play on the school computers.
• It’s a lot quieter when Jedi isn’t home. I miss him during the day, so I’ll be glad to spend the summer with him. But I’m already counting down until he goes back as a 2nd grader, with Buzz attending kindergarten. Now that I’m looking forward to.

How I Imagine it Went

Buzz: “Hey Abby?”

Abby: “Yeah, brother?”

Buzz: “I have an idea. I know we’re supposed to be sleeping, but how about I start shouting random words here from bed and it’ll make not a dime of sense but that’s why it’ll be funny. Mommy will find it cute at first, listening to us laugh together, but after awhile she’ll come in and start turning that red color she does when we’re driving her crazy, because we aren’t going to sleep. Mommy really likes it when we sleep. So then that will be even funnier and we’ll laugh some more. What do you think? Are you in?”

Abby: “That’s a good idea! You know I’ll always follow your lead. Mommy says I shouldn’t, that you can be a bad influence and get me into trouble, but I like doing what you’re doing. It’s fun and usually dangerous! Safety precautions are boring!”

Buzz: “I know! I have THE BEST ideas! I amaze myself. Mommy says I amaze her sometimes, too. I must be really amazing! So, are you ready?”

Abby: “Let’s do this thing!”

Buzz: “Scooby-doo!” “Poppy!” “Ninja!”

Abby and Buzz: Uproarious laughter.

Me, after 20 minutes of this: “Enough, guys. You two really need to get to sleep, now.”

Abby and Buzz: More uproarious laughter. “Man, that was awesome. Let’s do it again!”

Preferential Treatment

The opportunity to get behind the lens and capture moments with photographs has grown fleeting these days. When Jedi was a younger youngster, I would carry my camera everywhere. I’d snap pictures of him doing everything and nothing. Some of my favorite photos are of him just goofing off. I was proud of the set of images that accumulated. With each subsequent sibling, however, the new snapshots are less and less. I could blame it on the second, or third, child syndrome, or how I just need a DSLR, which is true. But there’s a much bigger reason than that.

My subjects are less than cooperative anymore, to put it kindly.

When I do take pictures, it’s usually of Abby. I admit I play favorites, but I have my reasons.

She’ll pose
If I ask her to stand a certain way, she’ll oblige. When I prod her to smile, she will, usually bigger than intended. The boys simply do not follow direction, giving me surly looks or picking their nose instead.

She stays still
She’ll wait until I have the shot to move on, while the boys are too eager to run. Without exaggeration, 90% of the pictures I have of Buzz are nothing more than a blur of color. I can almost make out his shape in a few, and it’s sad that I consider those keepers.

She asks me to
Abby will dress up for the sole purpose of a photo shoot, while trying to persuade Jedi into a frame is on par with jabbing a toothpick in my eye. And that’s just not pleasant.

Even my daughter has her limits, though. As do I. Which is why my camera is seldom seen and largely neglected these days.

Stereotyping

Jedi receives points at his school for good behavior. Since he saves most of his good behavior for school, he has a lot of these points accumulated. These can later be turned in to buy a conglomeration of items at their store. Everything from pencils to toys to shirts. Yes, shirts. Just random blue and yellow striped shirts. I know because this is what my son chose, then wore home, the week before last.

Then last Friday, upon bouncing off the bus, he urgently implores me to look in his backpack. He doesn’t want to wait the few steps until we get home, it must be now. So we take over someone’s driveway as he digs in his bag. Pulling out a ballcap.

A green-billed Kip’s Korner Chicken Ranch ballcap. To go with his shirt, I guess.

He proudly places it on his head, the size too big and his ears sticking out.

“You got a hat from the school store?”, the question was less about what I actually asked and more of a why? Why do you choose such peculiar things from the school store? If my hands weren’t all occupied holding onto Buzz and Abby’s stroller, I would have smacked one up to my forehead.

Then, as if it made perfect sense, he declares, “Yup! Now I’m Canadian!”.

I’m sorry to all my friends up north. I have no idea how he came to believe that you all wear chicken caps, but he didn’t get it from me.