Archive for the ‘Boy Wonder’ Category

This child. This has been making me laugh. And cry. And marvel.

This child. He wasn’t always so tall, or his hair so long. I wasn’t always so old. But we’ve always been friends. Always a little bit grubby after a day at the beach.

This child. Still loves rocks and animals and legos and all things science. But I think that he might someday love girls too. I’m anxious that someday is closer than ever before.

This child confessed last night that he was a “fly-trap.” I think he meant “babe-magnet”. He shook his head and laughed. I held my breath. So much has changed. And yet some things stay the same.

He told me his secrets and his worries and we are still friends. Friends don’t tell secrets. They hold your worries close to their heart.

This child is growing up. Faster than I ever expected. Too fast for me to keep up. This child has me wondering where all the time went.

You can see from the date, IZ was served this morning. He was none too pleased. As I wasn’t the recipient of this legal notice, I laughed a lot longer and harder over it at coffee. I suppose that’s not supportive of my parenting partner; however, IZ isn’t the first person in this family to find themselves in need of a lawyer. Boy Wonder was 4 when he first demanded something in writing.

“But, you can’t read!” I responded in dismay.

“Still, I’d like that in writing.”

“I suppose you’ll want my signature in blood next!” Needless to say, I didn’t do it. I’m not that cowed by this child, much.

The back-story to this particular document is that our child has a bad habit of running sick without telling us. Running: to the point of playing out in the chill with a cold when he is prone to infection instead of staying down and resting just days before we leave for vacation. Running: to the point of $400 emergency room visit just days before we leave for vacation—all because he neglected to tell anyone that he didn’t feel so well a few days previously. If you didn’t feel so badly for him, you might find it annoying. Or maybe I’m just a bad parent.

When he was small, he was enough of a hugger that getting a physical beat on him was easy. Occasionally, he’d run by you on the way outside and stop for a hug… when you got scorched from a little lovin’ you knew he wasn’t feeling so well. If that failed, he would eventually melt down in terror and grief and yeah, spike a fever the next day.

But at nearly 11, there is no stopping him when he is sick. And he’s learned not to say a word until he can no longer exist in his own denial. The last bout of infection, just two days before we left for vacation (why is it always just days before we leave for vacation???), we heard him sobbing uncontrollably downstairs in his chill zone. Here’s the thing, our child does not cry unless he’s miserable. The stoicism that allows him to run himself into the ground extends to his emotions.

Of course, one swipe of the thermometer told me what I already knew. He was fighting an infection and he needed meds ASAP. So, off to the emergency room we ran. I used the short car trip to inform this child, yet again, about the perils of ignoring self care. Which is why, 4 days later while on vacation, when he ended up with yet ANOTHER infection due to a lack of “self” care… I hit the roof. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Why didn’t you tell someone ages ago that you were itchy?? For the love of all things holy, why didn’t you tell me this before we left for vacation????” Lecture I did.

Now, my child has figured out that when his mother snaps, which is not all that often, the best position is one of silence and agreement. If at all possible, sitting back and looking interested, nodding one’s head vigorously enough to cause a concussion is preferable. And so he does. He figures appease me, then trot off to do whatever he was going to do in the first place. I swear the child actually dozes off mid rant, I just can’t prove it. Teenagedom can’t be far away!

Evidently, he has decided that a few CYA measures are in order. I suspect the thought occurred to him right before he passed out during my last rant.

For the record, because obviously he gets his lawyering skills from me, this is not the first draft of his notice. No, that draft was missing a date and riddled with spelling mistakes which I promptly circled. As everything is a learning opportunity in these parts, I set him to looking up the proper spelling in his dictionary. He wrote out his spelling words several times each and then rewrote the notice with proper spelling and punctuation. If you’re going to produce legal documents, you should probably make sure they’re legible and dated.

Heaven help us if he discovers carbon paper.

Ten year old logic is fuzzy, at best. Ten year old BOY logic leaves a mother shaking her head. I mean, what’s up with shoving all the shorts and t-shirts that don’t fit you, along with 15 plastic hangers, into one of three drawers you have for your clothes only to then stash all your good t-shirts and hoodies underneath your bed? Seriously. This child perplexes me.

He, of course, seems to have a reason for everything. Not that any of them make much sense. Witness this encounter.

Me: (assembling the infrastructure of a plastic storage box). . . “Let me get this straight. You took this box apart because the big spools of thread wouldn’t fit in the box if the infrastructure for the compartments remained?”

Boy Wonder: “Right!”

Me: “Did you ever consider using this box for all your small sewing notions and leaving the big spools of thread in the wood organizer I gave you?”

Boy Wonder: “But you have the wood organizer! You took it, remember?”

Me: “Right, I took it after you emptied and left it on your floor… I mean, did you ever consider using it BEFORE you disassembled your plastic storage box?”

Boy Wonder: “But I wanted it all to fit in one box.”

Me: (exasperated, because what’s up with the all or nothing logic?) “Pffft! You and your father! Black and white thinkers, I tell you.”

Boy Wonder: “I don’t really think in Black and White, you know. I’m more of a Sepia Thinker.”

And this is the REAL reason we call him Boy Wonder: he leaves his mother wondering where he gets this stuff.

Yellow Stripes are all the rage at Chez Wonder. He tested 2 months ago and I think had given up hope of ever hearing back. But, we got the call yesterday. . . good news. . . He passed!

The ceremony last night was really sweet. However, most of photos have other local children in them and no way to really crop them out—kids I don’t know, so no way to seek permission either. Anyhow, it was lovely, you’ll just have to trust me on that. Three kids got their next belt and they’re at that age where they’re fiercely proud but have NO intention of letting on; a mixture of “Aw Shucks” and “Look at me!” played out on every face as they bowed to their instructor and received their certificates. Straight faces all around, except for the sly grin attempting to escape at the corners of their mouths.

I tend to cry at these things, but managed to keep myself together for the boy’s sake. You know, it would never do. But I don’t think you could wipe the grin off my face last night.

. . . I’m going to blog about you.

Boy Wonder gave his father a card yesterday that read: Happy Father’s Day to the dad who wrote the book on fatherhood. . . from the kid who inspired the chapter, “Just When You Think You Have It All Figured Out. . .” Inside he inscribed the card:

Dear Dad,

Thank you for being such a good father this year. It amazes me that you can clean, cook, play, and take on the evil wrath of mom all at the same time.

Love, Boy Wonder

PS. The wrath thing was a joke.

Sure it was kid, sure it was!

How to Make a Great Paper Box.

It’s a Good Thing!

Ever had one of those days? It seems ironic that just last week I was talking about “two mocha days”. Because, I had no idea then that Sunday would register off the mocha scale. It was just that bad. If it could go wrong, it did. It was fiasco central here yesterday.

Life is fairly chaotic here lately. IZ has been managing his own work chaos. We hear him feverishly typing but we’re steering clear to make sure he has space to deal with client melt-down. And, it’s end of term for Boy Wonder and the last minute push to get it all done keeps us crazy busy. Not necessarily a bad thing, unless of course, you realize that you have missed on portfolio item altogether. Portfolio items need to be mailed in and while school ends on Wednesday and that’s theoretically enough time to do the work, it’s not enough time if you have to mail the portfolio on Monday. Which we do!

So, in a classic, “Stop the Presses” move, the boy and I sat down and did the project. We will now attempt to make up for lost time today. It’s all good. Really, it is. It doesn’t matter that the boy has to tape his speech today and he seems to be coming down with a case of Laryngitis. Oh my.

The Laryngitis is self-induced, which brings me to the mother of all disasters: the church dinner. You’ll have to trust me on all the gory details. I’ve rehashed them all with IZ so much that I’ve driven my self to distraction. The wrong kind, too! The basics are such:

• We attended a newcomers dinner at the local Episcopal Church last night.
• We thought it was a family deal, it wasn’t. It was an adult deal. They’d hired (somewhat insufficient help) one 15 year old girl to watch a passel of kids.
• Hell broke loose.

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“You know, mom, I don’t think of myself as a change-resistant child.”

So, the boy and I played hooky from school yesterday. It’s the end of term and we have so many projects to finish, it probably seems a bit unwise to do so. However, sometimes when you’ve been working hard you just need a break. IZ had treated us to the late night showing (mercifully not the LATE LATE night showing) of the new Pirates movie the night before. Friday dawned late for us and we just couldn’t face doing anything else. As we are blessed with a day off on Monday, we have time on our side. Besides, procrastination is an art form and every serious student will tell you, a necessary part of the process.

What, you don’t write your best work under pressure? I thought so! So, stop your judging!

Anyhow, the boy and I decided to hit a few garage sales. We spent the better part of the afternoon hunting for treasure. I desperately need more stock for Thrifty Goodness. He, well, he needed a few lessons on the fine art of garage sales. I call it, “Take your child to work day.”

By the end of the day (what, you thought I’d pass on secrets to the internet. My, you people are optimistic!) he was a seasoned pro. At his last purchase the seller commented, “Wow! You’re really good at this!” as he’d managed to haggle the price of his item down to include 4 extra Star Wars figurines for only .50c more. He beamed. So proud to have figured out what he now calls the “code”. He played it cool and said,  “I learned it all from my mom.”

It was his day, yesterday. He came home with an arm full— some of which people just gave to him because he was so cute. Uh, how come that doesn’t work for me? Anyhow, I  only managed to take one photo yesterday. But it probably sums up the day quite well. This is Boy Wonder and his vintage Underwood. That he got for a mere $10 (they were asking $20).

Me? Well, I struck out. Usually, I come home with at least something to account for the hours, but yesterday was nearly a bust. Some days you score and some days you don’t. But, treasure comes in many forms—a day spent with a great kid being one of them.  Another lesson learned, I’d say.

Sometimes, when you’re starting a new venture you need a little helping hand. You know, someone who will post about your work and tell the whole world how great your new store, or project, or piece of art really is! Someone to tell the masses about the worthiness of your venture. Self promotion can be difficult for anyone starting out but especially tricky if you’re 10 and your mom won’t let you go door-to-door selling your wares!

Of course, it helps if your mom has a blog and an online store of her own—surely she’d help a 10 year old out, right? Yes, indeed, nepotism reigns supreme in these parts. What kind of mother would I be if it didnt?

So, without further ado: I present Boy Wonder Bazaar. This is the only pair in his wee store at the moment, but there will be more in the future. This is art, I’ve been told; clearly you don’t want to rush it!

I can vouch for these little lovelies—as I was a recipient of not just one pair, but two for Mother’s day. Each unique and completely handcrafted by the boy. I’m not sure what impresses me more: that he does this stuff on his own, or his attention to detail. Either way, you can imagine I was blown over. Now you can be too!

Who said nepotism was a bad thing?