Archive for the ‘conversation’ Tag
May 04 2012
Wednesday was my first ever foray into the pick-up line at Buzz’s school. Or any school, for that matter. I had been with my mom that day, so she happened to be along for the ride as well. It was obviously her first time in a pick-up line, too, and a learning experience for us both.
“I called his school earlier, to tell them I’m going to be there to get Buzz and to make sure I know where the pick-up line is”, I said to my mom in general conversation.
“They have a pick-up line?”, my mom wondered, astounded. Though I remember her picking me up at school long ago, this was now apparently a bizarre concept.
A short time later as we made the turn around the back of the school, we drove slowly past to make sure we were headed towards the correct exit. Noticing a few cars waiting in line, my mother asked, “Is that the pick-up window?”.
“It’s not a pick-up window, Mom. A pick-up line. He’s not an order of fast food”, as we laughed and pulled in place, rolling with what we had started.
“I’d like one Buzz to go, please.”
“Can I get fries with that?”
“And can you make sure there’s extra napkins? He’s kind of messy.”
April 24 2012
I am participating in Momalom’s Five for Five. Today’s topic is on Words.
“I’m gonna kill you!”, my 5 year old son states, charging after his older brother in play. He’s thrust in the role of the bad guy, on the hunt for the arch-nemesis hero. But I have to remind him, we don’t say that word.
“Say ‘get him’, Buzz. You’re going to get him. You know we don’t say that other word.” Boys will be boys, it’s what they do. Like cops and robbers. Good versus evil. While it means the same, I realize, just a simple substitution of words sounds so much better.
Jedi overhears my correction and stops mid-run, an argument rising. “I don’t have to say it like that, though. Because that’s the baby way of saying it.”
“Everyone says it like that. We don’t want to kill, or hurt, anyone. Even when we’re playing”, I explain again.
“No, that’s for babies”, my 8 year old son continues, puffing out his chicken chest in a stance of misplaced power. “And I’m a big boy.”
Unable to contain myself, I laugh. “You are a big boy, but you’re not that big. You’re getting bigger every day, though. For now, and always, you’re still my baby.”
“Fine, how about I’m a medium-sized boy?”
“Yes, you’re my medium-sized boy”, I agree. “But we still don’t say that word.”
March 19 2012
I’m writing this because I was told to.
“I thought of something”, Jedi said to me with a smile. “Do you want to hear it?”
“Sure.”
“Do you know what those little pieces of fire are?”, he asked, touching his fingers together to illustrate how small he meant.
“You mean embers?”, I offered, unaware that his question was probably meant more as a rhetorical direction in conversation.
Rolling his eyes in a way he’s learned to master recently, he continued. “No, not ambers”, he huffed and I didn’t have the heart to correct his pronunciation. “They’re called nanoflames.”
“Oh.”
“Nanoflames. It takes like a hundred nanoflames to make a big fire. I made that up all on my own.”
“Good job, kiddo. That’s a great word. But it’s time for bed now.”
As I tucked him in under his covers, he made me promise. “You need to help me spread the word about nanoflames. You need to tell everyone you know. Put it on your blog! Because I know you have a blog and they need to know about nanoflames.”
So this is me, spreading the word on my blog. Just one nanoflame with the hopes of it catching fire. Pass it on.
February 16 2012
After weeping over how grown up my oldest is getting earlier last week, Jedi later came home with a stuffed zebra he acquired at his school’s Valentine shop. With all smiles, he literally skipped his way to me.
“I got to go to the school store!”, he exclaimed, the animal’s paws dancing behind my son’s bouncing back.
“What’d you get?”, I replied in turn, not able to see fully what he had at the time.
Bringing it to light from behind his back, he beamed, “A zebra! He was my bus buddy on the bus!”. It was a mohawked zebra at that, obviously in need of a wild handle to go along with his appearance.
The rest of the evening, he wouldn’t allow Bus Buddy, as it came to be referred, to leave his side. It sat next to him while he ate, it watched him play on the computer, he gave it a voice and put on a show with his sister and her bear. Thus, it was no surprise when he wanted to take Bus Buddy to bed with him. Alas, as we were ending the night, I decided that his zebra couldn’t go without a proper name any longer.
Now my kids have never been the outlandish sort with the monikers they choose. Still, I tried. “You know, Bus Buddy needs a name. We can’t just call him Bus Buddy forever. How about… Buster? Get it, Bus… ter?”. I thought it was rather creative suggestion. Jedi didn’t feel the same, however.
“No”, he refused flatly, clearly a better, crazier idea in mind. A zebra with a mohawk, the options were endless. Or as far as his imagination would take him.
“I know!”, he said. “I’ll call him Zebra Buddy!”
His imagination didn’t take him very far.
February 08 2012
“I’m not going to hold your hand anymore.” This is what my oldest told me as I was walking with him to bed the other night, my arm extended waiting for his typical response. Instead he pulled back, hiding both arms behind his back while walking with an intention of space between us.
I furrowed my expression into a disapproving pout before asking, “Why not?”.
“Because I’m too big for that”, he stated matter-of-factly.
“You will never be too big to hold my hand”, I insisted, though I knew that wasn’t true as I was saying it.
He’s at the age where I’m not sure how much to press. It’s a funny in between, one that gets pointed out to me on a regular basis. Like when we were at his school when I had dropped him off after an appointment and Jedi ran back to give me a quick hug goodbye. “Enjoy it now, because he’s not going to do that for much longer”, the secretary remarked. I’m sure she’s seen many growing kids alter in the course of elementary school, though I laughed it off. Ever tall and knowledgeable for his age, but still full of questions and fears. He’s not ready to distance himself, yet he takes more steps away every day. I still have years.
Those years that turn ever quickly to days.
“Can I still give you a kiss goodnight?”, I wondered.
“No.”
I did anyway.
I'm Crystal. A 30-something mom to 3 young kids living in the Midwest USA. When I'm not chasing my children, I'm a freelance writer and web designer. I like to tell stories from our days and share what we enjoy...
