Over the weekend the girls and I went up to visit my parents, pick some crabs, and meet up with my college roommate Jen and her son, whom I'll refer to as "Art" since he had some mad drawing skills, who is between Bug and Jem in age. We had lunch out, and then -- since we saw that we'd be pressing luck to keep them at the table longer -- took the kids back to my parents' house for dessert.
Art endeared himself to Jem pretty quickly. She ripped her menu opening it, and he didn't hesitate not only to give her his, but to unfold it for her so she wouldn't tear it.
I've known Jen since we were Bug's age. I don't think I ever imagined how she would be as a parent when we hung out. She was the fun friend, the lots of laughs, which may be why it was hard to think of her as one to "settle down." She's still the very laidback chicka, but takes her role as a mother especially seriously. I'm glad we've reconnected, and love seeing that same balance -- being serious but not taking himself too seriously -- fostered in her spawn. He's got a great sense of humor, but drew the line when I called his Mommy a dork. It's funny also that I see traces of his father's goofball personality in him as well.
A funny exchange happened at lunch between Art and our waitress, who had a tongue piercing. Art asked her what was in her mouth. The waitress hesitated, looked to me (I guess because I was sitting closest and Jen was engaged in tic-tac-toe with Jem), and when I gave her nothing, said to Art that it was a mint.
Art blinked at her. You know what I mean? He blinked that blink that a kid blinks when he's on to a lying adult. Besides, he already knew what it was, and in asking her he was doing another thing that kids do, which is starting a conversation (i.e., interrogation).
"Shouldn't that be in your nose?" he asked her.
Our waitress smiled awkwardly, said something about getting that refill for me, and made haste to the kitchen.
Art then looked at me, grinning that grin a kid grins when he knows he won the round. I looked at him in shocking disgust. "What kind of question was that, Art? In her NOSE? Then she'd have to stick her tongue in her nose to lick her mint. That's gross! No one wants to see that! She'd get fired!"
The grin vanished, replaced by the rare look that a kid gets when an adult has surprised him, before laughing with me.
Although he's a smart kid, Art has hidden reserves of energy; this made for a great combination in playing with the girls. After their "ice cream date" as Jem called it, they had time to go "dog crazy," a new term inspired by my parents' insane dog. Going dog crazy meant that they would run around screaming; play hide-and-seek where the first one found would run around screaming till the other one was found; not tire for a second from running up and down the stairs and around the house in races; and create their own private "Dog Crazy Club."
Bug's reaction to Art was the most surprising. She is not one to run around screaming; typically when she and Jem play, she likes to be in charge, which ends up being some type of pretend play where Bug is in charge and tells Jem what to do. If Jem were in charge, there would always be running around and screaming. With Art in the mix, Bug was acting very Jemmish. Very VERY Jemmish indeed.
Well, her Jemmishness lasted until they went outside and Art got introduced to the "roller coaster," a ride on toy my parents have set up on the hill outside their house. Why Bug thought she could introduce Art to the roller coaster, then immediately engage him to introduce him to the flower garden across the yard, was silly. She didn't get it, and ended up inside to write letters to Art and Jem to let them know that she wasn't mad at them, but she came inside because they weren't paying atention [sic] to her. Thus began a long series of letters, written between bouts of attempting more Jemmishness, resulting in returns inside for ego-hugs and more bandaids (she ultimately had so many on her that she reminded me of the Kenny Loggins Hyperbole and a Half story). She sneakily tied her letters to the strings of the balloons they got at the restaurant for delivery.
You'd think the kids would have crashed early, or at least as soon as they hit their pillows. You'd think.
The happiest of people don’t necessarily have the best of everything, they just make the most of everything that comes along their way.
Posted by: Tiffany And Co Online | 2011.06.07 at 01:08 AM