Wednesday, April 14, 2010

We Almost Killed Each Other! What's New?

I had an end-of-year practical to study for. He had a stay-at-home, lounge-in-the-sun, run-around-in-your-same-old-underpants-and-be-silly plan in mind. I laid my things out and tried to focus. He threw stuff around, jumped in my notebooks, and drew me little animals and octopus-looking things with googley eyeballs. I gave him focused activities to do. He did them, but sang, hopped, jumped, and made up ridiculous songs the whole time. He asked me to draw pictures. I did. I drew the four muscles of the quadriceps and he was not amused. I showed him how a dissected frog leg looked and that it would still "jump" if you applied a little electrical stimulus. That was cool. He asked what the scientific name for the belly button was and would you believe (other than having heard it referred to as the umbilicus) that I tried to look it up and all I came up with was "belly button." He laughed. He wanted to swing and I wanted to see the sun, so we went out and found a dark cloud over the back yard. He slid once. It thundered dimly. I chafed. He attached himself to my leg and the afternoon was over. I asked him when he was going to stop being afraid of thunder. He said never. He said I smelled funny and my hair looked silly. I told him I was using peppermint oil to help breathe at night. He said, "you smell like Christmas. Go take a bath." I wanted to. He didn't want to be left "alone" in the thunder. He wanted to eat fruit loops and raisins. I grimaced. He offered to eat an apple first, so I said OK as long as he also had some milk. I reminded him I needed to study. He asserted that I did not. I asserted that I did. He asked why (oh cripes)? I tried the "well, it's sort of my job now" approach and he is not a believer. Buddy called and offered to take him out to mess around and he burst into tears saying "Don't leave me!!!" and "I don't want to go!!" so vehemently I felt like I had already abandoned him for life and Buddy refused to come. He flung himself on his bed. I told him he was a lot like me. He told me to go away. And CLOSE THE DOOR! He is only four. I am in fear of fourteen. I finally got that shower and a few hours of studying. He slept until five and emerged angelically requesting another apple and some carrots and some of my orange juice. And maybe some more raisins. I asked him who he was and what had he done with my son. He looked at me like I was nuts (that's normal). I drew him a picture and said that if he wrote the word for it, I would draw him another one. He is a skeptic. I am a sucker.  We drew for an hour and listened to music. He remembered that he had only seen one hour of TV today (for THIS he counts). I told him he'd still live. He is uncertain. We drew for another hour. Dad came to whisk him off to steak night with Grammy and Grandad. An innumerable amount of kisses later, they left and I will see him tomorrow. We will start all over. He will do his best to make it through the day. I will attempt not to kill him. This is a typical day with Squib.

Beanstalk glances over from his latest opera...Bocelli or somebody...thank GOD for bit torrents...rolls his eyes and probably KNOWS Squib and I are both idiots. Or at the very least uncultured swine. We like Van Halen...eeee yew. He would like  his sun-dried tomato bread with Parmesan and red grapes now please. And throw in some flattened chicken! Somewhere, under his bed, bottles of wine are chilling and aging for his 21st birthday.

He is usually right...Beanstalk, that is.

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