Life Alert

Po just called me over. "Mommy, I think you should check this out."

"What is it?"

"It's something you might want to get," as he rewound the DVR. "If you have a heart attack or fall down or you can't breathe or something. Check it out."

It was a Life Alert commercial.

"You think I need that, Po?" Big was chuckling from the other room.

"Well, I think it could be useful if you have a heart attack or something. I mean, maybe when you're older."

"How old do you think I should be?" I cautiously inquired.

"Hmmmmm. Well, let me rewind again and see if it tells us."

He did. And it didn't. I guess, for now, that magic age will remain a mystery. He looked me up and down and determined I'd just need to be "older." I think I'll wait a few years before adding it to my wish list.

Preview to an Empty Nest

On this day before Po's first day of Kindergarten, my sentimental (psycho) side is coming out, and Po's entire life is flashing before my eyes as if he's marching to his doom in the morning. I am quite excited to hear from him how his day goes, and he couldn't be more excited. I'm doing my best to not rain on his parade. It's all about him. Not all about me. Right?

When we were driving around today, a wild bunny darted across the street in front of our car. Not an unusual event, but Po noticed and announced, "my next pet is definitely going to be a soft bunny."

"As much as I love bunnies, Po," I said, "I've had them before, and we've cared for them lots. They are a lot of work. You can have a bunny when you have your own house someday. I don't do bunnies."

"I don't do other houses," he retorted.

Thank goodness he's not keen on moving out just yet.

The Domino Affect

Po has a loose tooth–his first–that I've been monitoring like the Hope Diamond. Our second-to-last check-in before the just-after-tucking-in check-in is while he's brushing his teeth after his evening bath. 

"How's the tooth?" I played off the parental panic and wonder and made it seem all casual.

"Fine." Po said, and let me wiggle it for the umpteenth time today. "Mommy, when this tooth falls out and the big one comes in, will the big one make the other ones fall out one by one by one like dominoes?"

"Great question, Po." I was relieved to take the pressure off that one tooth for a minute. "It doesn't really work like that. But once the first one falls out, you'll probably get another loose one. And then over the course of the next few years, your teeth will all gradually fall out." 

Cam interjected. "Well, if I chew really hard on a domino, I bet my tooth will get loose."

Before I had a chance to provide her with a dissertation about how chewing on a domino wasn't the answer to keeping up with her big brother in the tooth department, Po reasoned, "Cam, you're way younger than me, and you probably won't lose a tooth for eighty-nine more years, so don't even chew on a domino."

"Okay," she agreed, and continued to brush her well-rooted baby teeth.

Sometimes big brothers have all the answers.  

Dream Lights

Po just saw a commercial for Dream Lights, those pillow pet things that shoot constellations out of their asses and onto your bedroom ceiling. He asked, "Mommy, do you think we'll ever get one of those?"

"I doubt it, Po. What do we need that for?"

"Well," he justified, "it makes a beautiful star scape sky on the bedroom ceiling, it turns off 'matically after twenty minutes, and it promotes a restful night's sleep."

At least I know he is capable of being a good listener.