Prepared

The other day, I took Cameron to the orthodontist -- again.  I think this year is pretty much going to be spent driving to and from school and driving to and from the orthodontist.  That, and paying the bills.  *sigh*

Anyhoo, there is a free coffee machine at the orthodontist.  Not just coffee, but a small version of the hospital coffee machine where you can select "mochaccino" and press start.  Except that hospital machines drop the cup down and fill it.  This little version has you put the cup down and it fills it.  As I did, I thought, "Hmmm, it isn't very clear where you should put the cup . . ." and then the assistant called, "Cameron," and I turned for a moment just as the scalding hot coffee came shooting out of the machine and all over my hand.  (Hazardous!  I mean, shouldn't there be a label or something? 'Warning:  Coffee is Hot?')  So Cameron went back for his appointment and by the time I had mopped up the coffee I'd spilled all over and run my hand under cool water he was nearly done. 

As we left I said, "Oh, Cameron, I really burned my hand!  It really hurts!"

And Cameron pulled out a first aid kit and said, "Would you like some burn ointment for it?"

Yes.  Yes, I would, and if mothering involved merit badges you would have just earned one.

I

The other day, Cameron and I were driving to school, just the two of us.  "You know what?"  Cameron said from the backseat.  "When I was in preprimary, everyone knew Matthew was my brother.  But in elementary, some of the kids haven't seen Matthew before.  Lots of times, when they do see him, they say, 'Who's that kid?'"
"What do you say to them?" I asked. 

"I say, 'That's my little brother, Matthew.'  And then they usually say, 'How is he your brother?' I think because Matthew's black and I'm white."

"I think you're right," I said.  "Lots of kids aren't used to seeing brothers that have different skin colors.  What do you say when kids say that?"

"Well," said Cameron, "I just tell them!  He's my brother because I adopted him!"

Ancient

Cameron and I are reading Philip Hoose's excellent book, We Were There, Too!  The book explores American history from 1492 to recent times, all from the stories of real children who lived through the events.  Tonight, we read one of the first stories, about Columbus' voyage on the Santa Maria and the Tanios people who lived on the islands he "discovered."  The text describes how the Tanios had small yellow dogs that did not bark, called alcos.  "They are now extinct," I read to Cameron.

"Really?"  he said.  "Did they have those when you were little?"

Familiar

While in Chicago, Cameron pointed out a pair of pigeons.  "Those two pigeons were just pecking at each other with their beaks!" he said.  And as he said this, one of the pigeons hopped onto the other's back.  A short pigeon fight ensued, with much pecking and flapping before the victor snagged the piece of bread that apparently inspired the melee.  "Ahhh," said Cameron, "they must be brothers like me and Matthew."

Not my hobby

"What do teachers do during the summer?" asked Cameron.
"Well," I answered, "some of them probably have a different job in the summer.  And some of them probably are taking care of their kids.  Maybe some of them travel, or enjoy hobbies that they don't have time for during the school year . . . "

"Like what kind of hobbies?"

"Well," I replied, "maybe biking or writing or painting . . ."

"Or doing math problems!"  said Cameron.

Stylish

Matthew has been going to a half-day camp this week and Cameron and I have been revelling in our ability to do things without an almost-four-year-old in tow.  Mostly this has involved exciting outings such as dropping books off at the library and grocery shopping.  However, we also had lunch together at a restaurant where Cameron fingered the cloth napkin and mouthed to me across the table, "This is really fancy!"  And we went bowling with a friend.  And one morning, thanks to a power outage, we went to the mall.  We just needed someplace that 1) had power and 2) had coffee.  Because we had neither.  Fully caffeinated, we began to walk through the mall, enjoying the opportunity to talk to each other without a certain someone shouting, "I was talking first!"  As we passed one of the mall kiosk places, a man called out, "Excuse me, miss?  What do you use to style your hair?" 
I politely declined to talk to him and, as Cameron and I walked away, I said to Cameron, "Little does he know that I'm happy if I just get to wash my hair let alone style it!"

Cameron laughed and said, "Yeah, you should have said, 'Sir, you are mistaken!  This hair is not styled!'"

Note to Megan S.:  Cameron totally reminded me of you when he said, "Sir!"

Mixed Feelings about Missouri

"So, I have really mixed feelings about magic sometimes," said Cameron.  "Like, I know that Harry Potter and wands and wizards aren't real.  But then sometimes I think about things like leprechauns and tooth fairies and I have really, really mixed feelings.  Like, on one hand, it seems like it's not real.  But then on the other hand, I think, 'Could it be?  Does that make sense?  Maybe it could be?'  Like stuff like Santa Claus, also known as Saint Nicholas."

"Right," agreed Matthew.  "Like Saint Louis."

Hypothetically

Cameron just came up to me, gave me a hug and said, "You're the best mom in the whole world.  Well, actually, I don't KNOW that.  But I bet you are."

A tip

It's so easy to know the right thing to do when you are not the parent.

Yesterday, we were at the pool when nearby mother informed her son that it was time to go home.  In a scene that was all too familiar to me, he began to scream and cry and shout. "You're not FAIR!  Why do we have to leave THIS MINUTE!" 

Ohhhh, have I been there. As anyone who was present at our local park one evening in June can attest to.  Yeah, that was me with the small, thrashing, screaming three-year-old.

But back to THIS small, thrashing, screaming three-year-old who was NOT mine.  I sat in my lounge chair and tried to pretend I couldn't hear as the mother restrained the boy and whispered through gritted teeth, "You are really making a scene.  Look at everyone looking at you."

"I'm sorry," he whimpered.

"Well, thank you for saying sorry," she said and, foolishly, relaxed her grip.

The ploy had worked!  The boy took off at a sprint, sobbing and hiccuping with rage at the unfairness of it all. 

But now he really had his mom in a tough spot.  (Again.  Been there.)  Now he had managed to get the baby pool between them and whichever direction she went, he darted in the other.  I tried to send empathy and support vibes to the poor mom as she attempted to catch him.  I know how ridiculous you feel when your preschooler is publicly mocking you, faking in one direction and then dashing in the other while you are panting and holding back tears.

And at this moment, Cameron leaned over and whispered to me, "This is really weird.  I mean, isn't it weird to see ANOTHER kid act like that?  I feel like I should go over to that mom and give her a tip.  'Hey, if you just pretend you're leaving, he'll follow you.  Just start walking away.'"

Thankfully, the mom had friends with her and together they closed off the escape routes and helped her get him to the car.  But I am saving this for the day that Cameron tells me about his own child's temper tantrum in public.

Priorities

A very long story, but here's the short version:

Earlier this week we had some work done on our meters.  I had been told when the appointment was scheduled that the repairman would need access to our house because our gas would be shut off and, upon restoration, the pilot lights would need to be manually lit.  So the boys and I sat at home, waiting for the repairman who, of course, arrive in the last hour of the four hour window.  He went to work outside.  About an hour later, I discovered that he had left without a word!  I was irritated but, whatever. 

A couple of hours later, it occurred to me that maybe in addition to 'irritated' I should be 'concerned.'  I mean, what about those pilot lights he was supposed to relight?  I hurried to the basement to check and found that all of the pilot lights were light and there was no smell of gas.  Phew!

When I came back upstairs, though, I realized that Cameron had been scared by the episode and had taken up post at the front door in case he needed to flee an inferno.  In his hand, he held a bag.  In the bag?  The contents of his piggy bank.  Just in case.

Hometown proud

Neither of my boys have lived in Michigan, but David and I both grew up there.  And somehow, without trying, we have instilled in our boys a fierce love and loyalty for the mitten.  One day in May, I picked Matthew up from school.  "He sure is excited about the weekend," said his teacher.  "He's been following me around all morning, talking about how he's going to Michigan."  As we drove off, Cameron gave a sigh and said, "Well, it is always nice to get back to your home state."

This is what happens when you feed your kids local organic produce . . .

In the car this morning, Cameron said, "Hey, mom, what do you call that thing that can last like two hundred years?"

"What? What kind of thing?"
"You know . . . it can last for a super long time because it's all full of preservatives?  And it's got a cream filling?"

"A Twinkie?!?!"

"Yeah!  That's it!  A Twinkie!"

Walks and Wax

This morning, Cameron and I took a walk together.  We were chatting about the merits of the Harry Potter series versus the Percy Jackson series which led us to talk about the book of Greek myths that Cameron has been reading which led us to discuss the Matisse paper cuttings, Icarus and  The Fall of Icarus.  If you aren't familiar with the myth, Daedelus makes wings of feathers set in wax so that he and his son, Icarus, can escape from Crete.  Daedelus warns Icarus not to fly too close to the sun but Icarus, consumed with the excitement of flight and wanting to see what the gods see, flies higher and higher.  Predictably, the wax melts and Icarus plunges to his death.  "What do you think the moral of that myth is?" asked Cameron.

"Hmmm," I said.  "Maybe it's about knowing your limits?  Or . . . " I thought.

"Maybe the moral is, 'Never trust your son,'" said Cameron! 

I've got a few good years left in me . . .

Cameron: I think when you're a kid, you keep on getting wiser and wiser. And then, when you're a grown-up, you get wiser and wiser until eventually you stop getting wiser. And then you start to decline.


Me: What age do you think you start declining?

Cameron: I'm gonna say 40.

Well, this should work out quite nicely if Cameron's predictions are correct.  When Cameron is in his teenage years, he will be getting ever closer to knowing everything.  And I will be quickly growing clueless.  Just the way it's supposed to be.

Who would think to look in the dresser?

Last week, Cameron came to the breakfast table wearing no shirt and a red, faux-fur trimmed cape.  "Well, what an honor to have you join us, Your Royal Highness," I quipped.  "We don't often have kings partake of our oatmeal!"

Cameron gave me a derisive glare.  "I'm not a king."

"Oh, well, my mistake.  Who are you then?"

"I'm just a cold boy," he answered, "who couldn't find a t-shirt."

Mother's Day

On Friday, I was invited to Cameron's school for a Mother's Day celebration.  Cameron was very excited and informed me as we stood in line for our fruit salad and cucumber sandwiches that the kids "were supposed to be like the moms' servants for the afternoon."  Luckily, I am not power hungry. 

He handed me a plate, noted that his class had prepared the fruit salad and raised an eyebrow as he pointed out enticingly, "It has green grapes in it."  Best of all, he shared with me a little essay he had written. 

My Mom, by Cameron

This is about my mom.  She is fun.  She plays with me.  She is exciting and happy mostly, except when Matthew gets mad.  She cooks with me on Friday.  She helps me with homework, but not too much.  She is very funny.  This is all about my mom.

I love the honesty -- it is the fact that he includes "except when Matthew gets mad" that makes me believe the "She is very funny."

It was also quite a treat to see the essays other kids had written about their mothers, my favorite being the one that included the line, "I cannot escape her!"  Again, so honest. 

Hard to think about

Earlier this week, I was driving home with Cameron when he said, "You know, there are some things that are hard to think about."

"That's true," I said.

"Like the Big Bang," he continued.  This, I must confess, took me a bit by surprise.  I guess I had been thinking "hard to think about" like "death is hard to think about," not hard to think about like . . . the origins of the universe?

"Like, I try to picture it and it's like, there was nothing, but what is nothing?  I picture all this blackness and then all of a sudden I see a big N.  You know, the symbol for nitrogen?  And the N explodes into stars and galaxies.  Maybe not our galaxy, I'm not sure, but maybe other galaxies at first."

Hard to think about indeed.

Unfair advantage

Matthew:  Hey Cameron!  Let's play soccer outside!
Cameron:  No, let's play Star Wars outside!
Cameron and Matthew, in unison:  NOOOO!  BUT I WANNA . . .
Cameron:  Wait!  What if we play Star Wars soccer?
Matthew:  Oh!  OK!
Cameron:  BUT, you are not allowed to use The Force.

I totally knew what a biome was.

When I picked Cameron up from school on Tuesday, I asked him how his day was.  "IT WAS GREAT!!!" he said.

Cameron rarely says he had a bad day at school, but this was a more enthusiastic response than usual.

"What was so great about it?" I asked.

"Well, I spent all afternoon working with my friend on a diorama!  It's a pop-up diorama of the biomes of Africa.  Oh!  And I need to bring in some cardboard from home, because we want to make it stand up more.  Oh!  And?  Guess what?  I drew a bunch of animals for the diorama and tomorrow we're going to do even more!"

At this point I had to interrupt to ask was a biome was, which led to Cameron giving me that pitying look that makes me feel hopelessly clueless.  "Uh, Mom?  A biome?  You know, like in Africa the biomes are grassland, desert and rainforest?"

"Right.  Of course.  I was just making sure you knew what a biome was," I fibbbed.  "So, is the diorama one of your weekly assignments?"

"No! It was free choice!"

How cool is it, first of all, that Cameron chooses his own work and, second of all, that he chooses to make a diorama of African biomes???

Either/Or

Yesterday, I overheard Cameron and Matthew in the bathroom getting ready to take showers.  "Okay, do we have towels?" said Cameron.

"Yep," answered Matthew.  "Aaaand we need washclothes."

"No," said Cameron.  "Mommy said we need to wash our hair.  She didn't say we need to wash our bodies."

At which point I knocked on the door.