Archive for the ‘highly unusual’ Tag
November 01 2011
I took an arm, and Jedi chose a leg.
It was a duel.
Like a clumsy dance we moved, clanking our weapons courtesy of a plastic skeleton. I practiced my rookie poses that I obtained from a very limited view of fencing while my oldest son held a firm blocking stance. Even the dearly departed replica skull got into the action, converting into a magical amulet that could defeat all.
With a bout of laughter, Buzz picked up the other leg bone, and Abby the second arm. They had teamed together with 3 against 1, an odds I’m used to. Except now, I possessed a metal pan lid for armor.
There were things I had to do, and I’ll be lying if I said I wasn’t running down the list while we were playing. The laundry needed switched, dishes washed, toys picked up. Same ol’, same ol’ that I worry myself with every day. In truth, it can all wait until tomorrow. Some days, we just need to use our imaginations and play. It’s amazing how included kids can get with a simple game of clanking bones.
“Can we do this again later?”, Jedi asked when we were done. “That was fun.”
Of course we can.
At first, I didn’t know what to do with the bag of skeleton bones that were meant as decoration for Halloween. I never would have thought of sword fighting on my own, but it was a rather brilliant idea.
September 08 2011
“Here, Jedi, look at me!”
It was meant as a fun offer, from a mother to a son. I huffed on the concave side of the stainless steel, forming a nonslip surface, and applied the cold utensil against the tip of my nose. There was excitement in my voice as the spoon obeyed just as intended.
“How am I balancing the spoon on my nose, Jedi? Is it magic?”
I thought he’d be impressed, maybe he’d try to do the trick himself. It’s these simple moments between a mother and son that are most remembered. Once the beginning step was perfected, we could then proceed to the next level of difficulty; hanging multiple spoons all over our faces. It could be like a game. We could be a traveling freak show family of dangling forehead kitchen utensils. The dreams, they were aplenty.
“Isn’t this cool?”, I asked heartily, the spoon still resting on the ledge of my nose.
Instead, he rolled his eyes and crushed my dreams.
“Stop it, Mom”, he urged, completely deadpan.
Says the kid who finds anything fart-related hilarious. Yes, it’s these simple moments between a son rolling his eyes at his mother who’s trying too hard with a cold spoon dangling from the tip of her nose that I’ll cherish for always. It really is magic, I say.
May 04 2011
Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome and thank you for attending today’s not-in-the-least anticipated matchup. We expect a vaguely entertaining and clean bout with as few rounds as possible. There will be no referee with us today, however, so do what you have to do for protection. Though let me remind you, screaming like a girl is strictly prohibited. Since one of you is armed with a stinger, the other has chosen as her mode of defense a rolled up Maxim magazine and a bottle of Windex. I don’t know what she was thinking, either, ladies and gentlemen.
Now, let me introduce you to our untrained, yet ferocious, fighters this morning, ladies and gentlemen! In this corner, we have a wasp. He’s brown, beady-eyed, and happens to have found a comfortable residence for waspy things in his opponent’s slim mailbox.
In the other corner, we have our noble challenger, C. She’s terrified of wasps and doesn’t want her mail carrier, nor herself, to get stung when reaching in to gather her mail. Really, the bills sting enough. We agree there, don’t we ladies and gentlemen?
And the bell rings! Stay safe and good luck!
Round 1: Here comes C, she’s about to check the mailbox. The suspense is insurmountable! She appears steady, firm in her stance. But the wasp is in a strong striking position. Just the look of him alone appears enough to send C retreating. Round 1 goes to the wasp!
Round 2: She’s at it again, this time with a different take on the same approach. Cowering for cover, she flings the door open enough to jolt the wasp out. The wasp flew out, ladies and gentlemen! This round may go to… Wait, it’s back! The wasp is back! Stubborn and determined to stand its ground. Round 2, again we have to give it to the wasp.
Round 3: What’s that? C has brought out the big guns, ladies and gentlemen! In her left hand, she has the rolled up magazine, in her right a bottle of Windex. What do you think she’s going to do? Clean him? Let’s see! She manages 3 sprays before the wasp gives up and flies away. It’s gone again, ladies and gentlemen! That was a good amount of window cleaner it consumed. I don’t know if we’ll see him again, but he should be shiny if we do. Round 3, and the winner by ineptitude, goes to C! Congratulations C!
That’s right bee-otch, who’s scared now? (Please don’t come back.)
December 20 2010
Buzz is really into Santa Claus.
Really. Into Santa Claus. With emphasis.
He’s fascinated. It’s not just this time of year, though now in the season it doesn’t seem as strange to protectively cart around an action figure of Father Christmas.
For awhile, he was falling asleep with Santa’s head. Just his head. Because the figure was so well loved that he severed the head from his body and no matter how much we’ve tried to super glue, it just won’t adhere back together.
Nothing weird about that at all.
When I decorated for the holiday last week, I also found in hiding our small seasonal snowglobe. It’s a plastic kind, hardly breakable I thought. Inside is a serene winter scene with Santa in full regalia sitting next to a star-topped tree, while shaken snow drifts around him. Buzz latched onto it as soon as I set it out.
He carried this globe around everywhere. It even took the place of his beloved Santa head on his pillow at night. Because sleeping with a snowglobe is still weird, but less so. I found it in bags and boxes and drawers. Under tables and high on shelves and in a battle with Buzz Lightyear. Then, one fateful morning, it was stuffed in a sock and banged on the floor one time too many.
Turns out, the plastic snowglobe? Completely breakable.
Seems we’re back to the creepy Santa head.
November 22 2010
Jedi is the type of kid to wear his heart on his sleeve, or rather in his eyes. While he is emotional, it isn’t excessively so. If he’s hurt or upset, there’s a glimmer that’s easy to recognize, but he doesn’t come by it with a toss of a hat. He’s never been particularly sensitive to things like sad scenes in movies, instead simply shrugging it off.
Sometime in just the past few weeks, though, he’s appeared to pick up a bit of empathy.
He wanted to watch Monsters, Inc. yesterday. A movie that he has seen a good 20 times, some even very recently, so I thought nothing of it. Which is why, towards the end, it caught me by surprise when I heard him say, “Boo is never going to see Sully again”, with a quiver in his voice.
I dropped the laundry I had been gathering together to find out what was wrong. I peeked in to witness my 7 year old son fight to keep his composure, but couldn’t. He quickly broke down into hysterical, sobbing tears.
“Boo is never going to see Sully again!”, he repeated between gasps of air with a stream of tears making a path down his cheeks.
Both J and I did our best to comfort and reassure him. We reminded him of the final scene, which again, he’s sat through at least 20 times before, and how happy it is. That there’s nothing to be upset about.
He wasn’t having any of it.
“Boo is never going to see Sully again!”, is all he could believe, even after it was over.
Thanks, Pixar.
