Archive for August, 2015

  My kid is very cuddly when he wakes up, and often asks me to climb into bed with him. He asks with his sleepy, sweet voice, “Mama, come cuddle with me.” I realize these moments of pure affection will dwindle, and he tends to say very sweet things first thing in the morning, so I always say yes and squeeze in among the stuffed animals and miles of little boy legs. Also, it’s almost like going back to bed, which always feels like a treat. 

One recent morning when we were snuggled up, he popped his thumb out of his mouth and said, “Mama, there are eggs in you.”

Here I should pause to say that he understands the rudiments of reproduction: There is an egg and there is sperm and they are mixed together and the baby grows in the mama’s tummy. We’ll cover the details later. 

“Yes, there are.” I replied. 

“I need you to mix them with some of Daddy’s sperm and grow a new Boo for me to play with.” (This is a verbatim quote — he actually used his nickname.)

Here I should pause to say that for reasons too personal to go into here, this is not going to happen. He is an only child, and unless a baby drops from the sky into my arms, he will remain an only child. And we are all fine and happy with that for the most part. 

I made some sort of noncommittal statement like “Oh honey,” playing for time. He stayed silent, thumb back in his mouth, waiting for more information to respond to. Then I said something true but vague like, “We are so happy with just one Boo, sweetheart.”

Amazingly, he did not pepper me with questions or arguments as he usually does. But as I thought about it later, what really struck me was that he isn’t asking for a brother or sister. He’s asking for a carbon copy of himself. 

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We recently took the Boo on a weeklong road trip to see family in Michigan. I’d been apprehensive about long stretches of car time with a 3.5-year-old, but for the most part he was a fantastic traveler. Here are the highlights:

You requested this song so many times Mama and Daddy got sick of it.

You slept in three houses and one cabin in the space of a week. You slept the best in the cabin — a few miles from Lake Huron, no water, no electricity. You slept the worst the final night, when you were sick and overtired and had just met three of Mama’s coolest cousins. 

You attended a party with too many family members to list here. You jumped right in to play with kids who were many years older than you, and enjoyed playing with a giant Jenga set. 

You were introduced to a Magic Eight-Ball. You kept asking it if you needed to pee.

You visited the Henry Ford Museum, where your favorite things were sitting in the driver’s seat of a giant steam locomotive and watching the toy trains go around and around their track. You were so tired from fighting a cold that Daddy had to carry you most of the time, but even so, you didn’t want to leave. 

You held the youngest member of the family, briefly, with a fair amount of help. 

You met roughly seven dogs, and after some angst you decided they were all okay. 

You chowed down on homemade puris — the only new food you tried on the trip. 

You were carried into a chicken coop to take a freshly laid egg from a nest,  and we brought it home safely. The next morning, we cracked it open and compared it to a store-bought egg. You declined to taste it when Mama cooked it up for you. 

You ran free in front yards, back yards, in and out of back doors, and down country roads. 

You loved playing with the sand at the tiny beach at the cabin. You also liked watching Daddy skip rocks. 

You enjoyed a meal at the Black Lake Golf Club, where you dined on corn chips and fries. 

You enjoyed peeing outside at the cabin, and you got really good at it. 

You helped Daddy wash the bugs off the car the day after we got home. 

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I'm over 50. I'm raising a fifth grader. Sometimes he posts too.


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