Tag Archives: kid
Samson!
As a serious baseball fan, I’m prone to superstitions, as in wearing the same pair of socks to certain events, making sure my lucky bracelet is facing upward, and anything else that might help determine the future (or a World Series win). Yeah, one person’s OCD is another person’s baseball.
That said, I admit I’m a bit nervous that L’s hair has zapped him of his strength. Hearty and strong, he was felled…
RIGHT AFTER HIS HAIR WAS SHORN!
Not feeling well on Sunday.
Came home sick from school on Monday.
Stayed home on Tuesday.
His malady? No fever, no sniffles, no cough, yet lethargic and without appetite.
WAS HIS HAIR HIS STRENGTH?
Guess I’ll go procure some of that hair growing concoction and find out. (Kidding on that.)
Samson?
When one says, “a little off the sides” one means just that. Instead, we got a LOT off of ALL sides. Hopefully, he isn’t Samson and doesn’t lose all of his strength and wisdom. That said, I can see his face! Who knew?
(This may also mark the end of the fifth grade girls following him around, which he described as “annoying.”)
Ring on It
SETTING: Super Bowl, half time show, our living room. Couches, chairs, 150,000 kinds of fattening dips, chips, wings, things, spent bottles strewn about.
TELLIE: Beyoncé.
L: “I’d put a ring on that.”
Guests: (crickets.)
M: “So would I.”
For Art’s Sake
Featured, a custom designed house with an interior tree and a post-apocalyptic buttress. By L.
Winner!
I played a game of chess with L the other day and… I won! Checkmate! Woooooo hooooooo! He looked incredulous (appropriate, as I can’t beat him).
I recounted my victory during our annual Super Bowl party and all of the adults said, “way to go. You’re showing off about beating your second grader at chess? You are awesome. Get some help.”
Gotta laugh. Especially at myself. (L did not lose graciously or gracefully.)
Next: Losing.
Bad What?
The words “bad hair day” should NOT be uttered by a second grader.
Enough said. (And yes, they were.)
Play What?
Gads, while I love having L’s buddies over (and vice versa), I practically break into hives when I hear the term, “play date.” Can everyone come up with something else and we’ll universally change it? Just saying.
To Starve?
L is intent on being an artist. Having grown up wanting to be an artist (and somehow actually making a living at something very creative), my heart stops when I hear how passionate he is about this endeavor. The expression “starving artist” sounds romantic. It’s not. And, of course, I’ll support whatever he loves.
As long as it’s legal.
Gratuitous Post or… Letting Go
Last Fourth of July:
Oh, the Fourth. BBQ, fireworks (provided by professionals), loud noises, and the ever-present, “Ooooooooh” after a giant peony-shaped burst appears over head. Cheesy, roadside stand fireworks, not so much. Years and years and years of hearing my mother say, “you’ll lose a hand” have embedded themselves in my psyche. Even sparklers are fraught with danger.
Actually, they’re not. They’re fun and manageable and if I can shut my brain off and let go, everything’s going to be fine. Letting go, not so easy.
My Kid Wears A Gas Mask 