L. (Age 7): Sometimes I lose my mind and don’t know what I’m saying.
Me (Age “Old enough to know better, but young enough to go for the joke anyway to see if his mother is listening.”): You get that from your mother!
L’s Mother (Age “Ageless”): Did you just say he gets that from me? I was going to say that!
Yesterday I learned that when she was 13 my mother “borrowed” her Dad’s car and drove it around the block.
All her arguments about my behavior as a child are now invalid.
Some time back I mentioned my grandmother and her fears. What I didn’t mention specifically then was that I saw her fears eat her alive sometimes because she was imaginative enough to see possibilities, but not grounded enough to see probabilities.
That’s why the ability to make that distinction is so important to me.
Like my grandmother, I don’t like being in front of windows, particularly when it’s dark outside and I’m backlit, because I feel like I’m just making the shot a little too easy to make. But unlike my grandmother, I can recognize that feeling as an imaginative possibility, not a probability that a shot is actually about to be fired.
With that said, I once had a great-uncle who was shot (non-fatally) on his porch because some kids with no concept of ricochet were shooting at turtles about a mile away, so . . . you know . . .
What follows is an actual text exchange between me and my mom:
Mom: “Bet you wish you, too, could be somewhere it’s 16 degrees that feels like 5.”
Me: “It would interfere with my tea on the porch.”
Mom: “Ouch.”
Me: “I’m too sick to play softball today.”
Regardless, my absolute favorite moment of the trip was the following exchange I had with my son:
L: I want to go! When is mom going to be done talking with those people?
Me: How long have you known your mother now?
L: (slightly perplexed) Seven years?
Me: And when have you ever seen your mom cut a conversation short?
L: (without missing a beat) April 27th, 2011.
Me: I am so writing this down!
Even so, actually being on my best behavior was difficult at times for reasons both understandable (“You’re telling me now that you’re expecting me to learn choreographed dance moves before the event tomorrow. I am not– Huh? Oh, you just want me to join L’s mother on the dance floor after the choreographed event! Yeah, I can do that.”(1)) and perplexing (“So you feel you’re qualified to teach my seven-year-old son how to shake hands like ‘a man’ after you, a physically mature adult, felt the need to use a pointlessly crushing grip on a child, do you . . .?”(2)), but overall I think I did okay.
Nobody said anything about not inviting me back for the 100th, at least.
*****
(1) A blatantly paraphrased summation of a simple and brief misunderstanding.
(2) L’s Mother was in the process of handling that one because I walked up on said event already in progress. This, by the way, was the final catalyst for me pulling her aside and telling her we needed to go soon before I said something that I would have found hilarious, but would have justifiably been considered fighting words.
Now I flat-out said last week that I was dealing with more people than I normally do and catching up with old friends, so it shouldn’t surprise anyone that I was at a family event. Since I don’t do those very often, I was on my best behavior.
Well . . . I did my best to be on my best behavior, at least. Like I said a couple of times, I was there for a 50th anniversary, and if anyone felt that my behavior was lacking, they could just rescind my invitation for the 100th.
That sounded fair to me.
Let me start off by saying that I used to enjoy flying, but those days are gone and may or may not ever come back around again. I appreciate the efforts to make air travel safer, but they add a level of hassle (sometimes involving being literally hassled) that encourages me to avoid airports whenever I have a reasonable alternative (including just staying home). With that said, on my recent trip it was nice to see that efforts are also being made to make flying comfortable again. Enjoyable for me it was not, but less painful is at least a step in the right direction, particularly when we’re talking about flying cross-country late at night with a child in tow.
I’m just going to acknowledge that there were difficulties in doing that and gloss over that part, but if you want a window in my mindset after a few hours, I point you to the following text sent out around that time:
Superpower of time acceleration so far failing to manifest. At least L. finally fell asleep.
Staff member: Happy Birthday!
L: Thank you!
(This happened too many times to detail individually.)
*****
(And finally, the incident that was the most amusing.)
Me: Okay, I’m heading back to the room.
L’s Mother: Sounds good. L. and I are going to stay a little longer. (aside to me) But only so long as he’s still having fun and not griping, so we probably won’t be that long.
– eight or so hours later –
L’s Mother: What just happened?
Me: (hesitantly) Are you sure you want to ride Expedition Everest?
L: Uh-huh!
Me: Well . . . you’re tall enough, if only just, so okaaay . . .
-one ride later-
Me: So what did you think of your first real roller coaster ride?
L: I liked it! I’m not sure I would have gone if I’d realized it was a real roller coaster, but I liked it!
*****
Me: (thinking to myself) I wonder if that’s on purpose? *Thought while contemplating the fact that two painfully cute girls were working the “single rider” entrance to Expedition Everest*
Girl #1: Single rider line, no waiting!
Girl #2: That’s right, no waiting, so step over here if you’re single . .
Both in chorus: Riders!
Me: Yeah, that’s on purpose.
