Keeping Mommy at Bay

My iPhone screen has been cracked for a long time, but I finally got it fixed today! And...I haven't touched it since. The littles have taken over the revamped box of wonder.

Po was just playing a game and I heard my text "BING." He looked at me to see if I heard and said, "It's probably just from someone you don't know, and it disappeared, anyway, so it's probably not that important."

"Uh, Po, you know the rules with my phone. If I get a text or call, you have to hand it over."

Huge eye rolls. Shoulders slumped. I was handed the phone. Something fun from Big. I responded and placed the phone back in Po's hands. He settled back into the couch with his game.

"BING!"

Po predicted, "oh, really! I'm sure it's exactly the same text you just got."

I started to giggle.

"No, REALLY. It definitely is. Exactly the same. EXACTLY."

I can't wait to play with my revamped phone when the kids go to bed. Sigh.

A Moment of Silence

Every once in a while, what you don't say says more than what you do say.

I've heard that around.

Po's school is a true community. It services pre-K through 12th grade, and we're so happy to have gotten in for Kindergarten. There are weekly overarching themes for the whole school and quarterly individual goals for each student. The parents, teachers, and students sign a contract to the note of all-in participation in helping the child reach the goal. And the goal and progress is reviewed daily.

Sometimes the goals seem small, and sometimes you think your kid has a better shot at being the next astronaut.

Po's goals (he has two, 'cause one just isn't enough) this quarter are to be able to count to 100 unassisted (his suggestion) and to be patient when learning new skills (my suggestion). He'll achieve his goal for patience for the day when he completes the task at hand (wow...who even knows where he got those crazy genes).

The half-day kindergarten moms have formed a sort-of bond, and our boys (yes, they are all boys) have quickly followed suit. High-fiving each other and showing off this or that. But there has been one boy who has been a harder nut to crack. The painfully shy type. He is in Po's class, and Po didn't notice him at first. I suggested that Po talk to him. So he did. And Po is good at talking. And he's good at cracking nuts.

So we all got together yesterday after school. We did a picnic in the park down the street from the school, complete with splash pad, which is not a luxury, but a requirement for end-of-summer/early-fall outings in AZ. Po invited shy-guy, K, to come along, and his effervescent mother was game, so K went along.

They had a great time, and K seemed to be happy. I saw him smile. He tagged along with Po, who was more than happy to accommodate. At the end of the outing, the moms told the boys that they could choose one last thing to do for five minutes before it was time to go. I asked Po what he wanted to do, and he said he'd like to wait to see what K chose so he could be with him and help him.

So the boys went together and had fun. Then we said our hard good-byes after a lovely afternoon...

This afternoon, K's mom and I were chatting while we were waiting for the boys to be released from the Kindergarten play yard. We agreed that it would be wonderful to get together again. Po and K came out together, and the teacher told us moms that the boys had "reflected" on their goals today. Po was still in progress, but K had achieved his goal, and had written it down for all to see.

Ms. B encouraged K to get out his goal sheet, and he did. On it we saw that his quarter one goal had been met "make a new friend." Next to the check box was a picture K had drawn of two boys holding hands. Beside that, he wrote "Porter."

I fought back the tears and gave K's mom a smile. I gave K a BIG high-five, and he was beaming.

K's mom and I confirmed our play-date for next week, and as I walked toward the car with Po, I told him how proud I was of him for helping someone else achieve his goal. Po just stared at me and smiled and didn't say a thing. This little, rare, perfect moment of silence.

So Po didn't meet his goal for the quarter, yet. I'm okay with that. He had bigger fish to fry.

What Does it Mean to Be Free?

My sister comes bearing gifts whenever she comes, and she came this morning. She comes about once a week, so the littles now have a Pavlovian response to that knock on the door, immediately peering into every crevasse of her every limb for something other than her purse. And if they are unsuccessful in that search, the purse gets tossed. I blame my sister for this behavior. She has trained them well, and they only behave this way with her. So I kindly open the door for her, then depart to another room until the treasure hunt has reached it's conclusion.

Today she brought a red shiny bag, which had Po and Cam jumping. She told them that there were eight items in the bag, and asked them how many each of them should receive.

"Eight," Po shouted.

"Yeah, eight," came the echo.

"Nope, try again," Auntie said. She held up four fingers on each hand. "If half are for Po and half are for Cam, how many do each of you get?'

"OH! Four," Po calculated.

"Yeah, four," came the echo.

The bag went onto the floor, and the crowd went wild. The quickly figured out that the four Avengers cups were for Po and the four Disney Princess (should "Princess" REALLY be capitalized, here?) cups were for Cam.

"Great!" I said, with a slight roll of my eyes." Auntie D can help you clean those out today so you can drink out of them."

Auntie D turned to me while the littles were stacking their cups and said "don't worry, they are BPA-free. I made sure."

Sweet.

"I'm gonna show these to Daddy!" Po ran with his cups and stacked them all outside the glass shower door and waited for Daddy to wipe the soap out of his eyes. "Daddy! There's Iron Man, and The Hulk...and...and...they're all PB&J-free!"

Explaining the Movie Massacre

Alex Teves.

He's one of the victims of the movie massacre in Colorado. We didn't know him, but his death is hitting home. The 24-year-old was from Ahwatukee and graduated from Desert Vista High School, which we pass every day. His memorial service took place last weekend at a church two blocks away from our home. There is a memorial for Alex Teves tastefully placed in a grassy area along our daily route. I noticed it yesterday. Po noticed it today.

"MOMMY! I didn't know there was a GRAVE right there!"

"It's not a grave, Po. It's a memorial. It's a place where people can remember someone who died. They can leave things and think about the person who died, but there is no body buried there."

"Who died?"

"A man named Alex Teves. He was shot in Colorado."

"That's far away. If he died in Colorado, then why is that stuff here?" he asked.

"Well, he is from here. So he has family and friends here that care about him very much."

Po thought for a moment. And I knew that what I'd shielded him from was about to be cracked. "Why did he get shot?"

I tried to keep it simple, yet truthful. "Someone shot him. That person didn't know him. That person was very, very sick in his brain. There are very few people in this world that are so sick in their brains like that, so it's nothing for you to worry about, but you should know that Alex Teves was very brave. His girlfriend was with him, and he protected her from the sick man, so she's okay. Isn't that brave and wonderful?"

"Yes, but, he's dead?"

"Yes." I confirmed.

"His parents must be really sad. They should just make another baby."

"I'm sure his parents are very sad, but they can't just make another baby to replace him."

"Why not?" he inquired, so innocently.

"Well, people can't be replaced. There is only one you, and only one me. There is only one of each of us. And there was only one Alex Teves. His parents can't just have another baby to make it better."

"Yes they could. They could just have another baby."

Was I really tackling a conversation about death AND conception in one swoop with my five-year-old, way-to-smart-for-MY-own-good son? "Well, I suppose they could have another baby, but it wouldn't be Alex. It would be a whole different person. They could have a new, wonderful, person in their lives, but they couldn't replace their son."

Po thought again, and decided, "yes, they could. They could just name the new baby the same name."

"Lots of people have the same name. There are a lot of people named 'Alex' in this world, but just because you name someone the same name doesn't mean they are the same person. We gave you your middle name, 'Ed,' after Grandpa Ed and Cam's middle name 'Libby' after Grandma Libby, but you aren't them. You are you. And Cam is Cam. We named you those names because we loved them and wanted to give you a proud name. Not because we wanted you to BE them. You have to be your own person."

He wasn't buying it. Maybe I went too far.

"Mommy, if I died and you had another baby, you could name him Porter, and it would be okay because I would give him all of my memories."

Gulp. I waived the white flag.

"Porter, you are the sweetest boy ever. I don't think that's possible, but the fact that you'd be willing to give someone else your memories is just beautiful. You are thoughtful, kind, and sentimental, and I love you so very much. Let's not worry about any of this any more, okay? If you want to talk about it more another time, we can, but let's just go home and have a nice lunch, for now."

"Okay," he sighed.

Then, there was another voice. One we hadn't heard for several minutes. One we almost forgot was there.

"I give my memories, too," Cam quietly declared.

What else could I possibly say? "Cam, I know you would. And you are such a wonderful person because of it."

She sighed and placed a request: "Can you turn on 'Fireworks' (Katy Perry), Mommy?"

"Yeah!" said Po.

And so I did. And so we sang. And then we had lunch. And those two forgot about the whole thing (I think).

I never will.