“Hey dad, suck my dictionary. Heh.”
“Um, what? What did you say?”
“I said SUCK MY DICTIONARY. Hahahaha.”
That was an exchange between Kendall and Scott in a public place recently. We then banned him from a certain YouTube channel that originally passed our filters.
“Mom, where does money come from?”
“You earn it by doing jobs.”
“But where do the people who give it to you get it from?”
“Well, they earn it from doing their jobs.”
“Okayyyyyyyy, but where does IT COME FROM? Like, does it just, like, appear? In the air?”
“Oh God, it’s way too early to talk about the US Treasury.”
“Treasure? It’s in a treasure chest?”
“Sort of? Yes. Let’s go with that for now.”
“So I’m going to host a Hyrule Warriors (video game) party, okay? Are you the one who deals with this? I want to invite all my friends, and we’re going to need a lot of snacks.”
Yes son, I’m the one who “deals” with the family party planning. Great job picking up on my job description. Unfortunately all our venues are currently booked and you can’t afford my rates.
Kendall’s been playing baseball since he was 3, but for the first time, he’s now signed up for flag football. We’re used to team sports at this point. Scott actually coaches his baseball team. But football? It’s not going so well.
Kendall has no idea what he’s doing on the field because, well, it’s his first season ever and, um, he’s six. He’s high energy, and he doesn’t focus very well, but he wants to play, he wants to do his best. He just needs some direction, some attention, and some coaching.
I went to a practice/scrimmage for the first time yesterday. It was awful. The coaches were visibly annoyed by him. His high energy and lack of focus caused them to ignore him and put him on the sidelines for the majority of the NOT EVEN A REAL GAME. Not a single one of the 4 coaches took him aside for any one on one time, and 3 of them straight up walked past him when he arrived at practice without so much as even a hello. It was so bad that I was convinced we walked up to the wrong team.
For the first time ever, I witnessed adults recoil at his happy, free spirit, and it broke my heart.
“Oh! I know, mom, how about instead of some Legos, I can get us some flowers for the kitchen?”
I took Kendall to Target with me the other day. Just him and me. Anytime he knows we’re going there, he begins his campaign for something “small.” There was, apparently, some sort of “small Lego set” he really wanted… until he remembered the flowers.
“Uh, well, sure. Yeah. Let’s get some flowers.”
He darted off with glee the minute we walked in the doors, shouting over his shoulder “I’ll be right back! I’m going to pick out the flowers!”
“You know, you used to call these wowers?” I said. “It’s been too long since we’ve bought some. I’m so glad you traded in your Legos for them. Thanks, buddy.”
We caught a Harry Potter movie on TV a couple months ago, but we only saw a little bit of it. It piqued Kendall’s interest, though. He wanted to know if we could watch the whole thing.
“Nope. Not a chance, buddy. Not until we read the books.”
About a month ago, I bought the first Harry Potter book, figuring it would probably go unread for at least a year, but maybe I’d read it alone.
Tonight, I read the first chapter aloud to Kendall, fully expecting him to get fidgety and whine about how long it was taking. He interrupted once or twice, did his fair share of fidgeting, and I just couldn’t tell if he was even listening.
At the end of the first chapter, I started to dog-ear the page, and mentioned we could read the next chapter tomorrow.
“Can we please read another one tonight? PLEASE?”
Wait. What? Did that really just happen? Did I really just read 2 full chapters of Harry Potter aloud to my willing child? Did he actually say he’s excited about hearing chapter 3 tomorrow?
So this is six.