Bending

We have a mandate in our house: Always tell the truth. You will not be punished for telling the truth. There may be consequences, but telling the truth is paramount.

Okay, got that outta the way.

How about bending the truth?

I’m not proud about this, but these things that may occur in the near future:

–L’s Nerf gun may “go missing.” (A pox on them… Yeah, I’m a chick, I don’t get it.)

–L’s Hoodie, (which I wisely purchased in white and is now stained, soiled, disgusting no matter how many times I wash it) may get “lost” on laundry day.

–L’s newest pet, Tofu the Tadpole, may end up going through his metamorphosis “outside.” In a bucket. (He seems so cute now. In a few weeks he’ll be a giant, loud, jumping all over the place bullfrog. Not gonna happen.)

–The ‘Captain Underpants’ Opus may be “donated.” (They’re past tense at this point. Why not share the love?)

Walk the talk takes a pause.

 

Cute now. Check back in a few weeks.

Cute now. Check back in a few weeks.

Change Is Hard

Dad is transitioning to a new job. That and a hard drive failure (#@$##@!!), equals plenty of change (and silence).

L to Dad: “Why are you leaving your company?”

D: Because someone else thinks I’ll be great.

[SIDEBAR: This work move does not entail a physical move for L. It means Dad will work closer to home. Better commute. Better benefits. Exponentially better life.]

L: But what about your old company? What will they do?

D: They’ll be fine.

L: Dad, sometimes work isn’t about the money or fame or power. It’s about love and family and friends. Please don’t turn your back on them.

D: (silence)

L: Dad, do you understand the implications of what you’re doing?

D: Yes, I do. And sometimes when your teacher or your friend or your boss doesn’t think you’re doing a great job, you need to find another situation.

L: I hope you’re making a good decision.

D: I think I’m making a great decision. And I’ll keep everything you said in mind.

Past Tense, or “She’s So Fine”

Had a flashback this morning.

The Setting: Oscar broadcast, 2005 (I think).

The Presenter: Salma Hayek. I believe L is on the verge of walking, is still sporting diapers, and is quite mobile.

He crawls/scootches/drags himself to the television set, hoists himself up and plants a giant, wet, all-in kiss on Miss Hayek while she’s trilling about “Best….”

STOP

Did my unsullied, innocent cherub just French Salma Hayek?

Why, yes. Yes he did. (Good taste.)

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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.┬áCheesy, 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.

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