Slowly, but surely, we're getting there. More importantly, and to my great relief, we're getting there without tears and stress.
Me: Good morning, Julian!
Jules: I was very sad last night. (sleepy, serious, sad face)
Me: Oh, why were you sad?
Me: (inside my head) Oh, poor thing was sad because Auntie Yaya left.
How sweet.
Julian: Because I wanted to watch my favorite show and I couldn't.
(pouty face)
Me: Oh, what did you want to watch?
Julian: Michael Jackson!
Me: Well, why couldn't you watch it?
Jules: (misunderstanding me) BECAUSE HE'S AWESOME!
That is: a little box with a wiggling ladybug in it, tiny fire truck, Panzer IX tank (upper left), half a lamb from a magnetic singing toy, tennis ball and very old block that used to be John's when he was little.
When we got to the Pollock painting, I thought he'd be excited to see
something he recognized. Nope. I also thought he'd see interesting
things in the abstract sculptures. Not yet. When asked what he thought
various sculptures looked like he consistently replied "it looks like
a sculpture."
He didn't even think it was funny when I pointed out the butts on the
Greek and Roman statues.
He clearly has a future in engineering.
Me: Well, only you can answer that question. Why didn't you bring
your rat to school?
Zane: Because...because...because......I said so.
Me: hmm.
He wakes up early this morning: 6:34. He lies in bed for awhile just thinking out loud, remembering what he was thinking about before he went to bed. Getting up is sometimes hard for him, but this morning he’s ready to go. Not bothering to get dressed, he pads over to the couch to munch on whole grain cereal and catch up on his shows. TV in the morning is strictly intellectual to get his mind moving.
After awhile he switches to fruit and the iPhone. Blueberries, his favorite, are finally in season and readily available. He can’t get enough and sometimes breaks down if he runs out. He chugs some good ole moo juice to balance it all out - he knows all about the nutritional value of milk, what with the calcium, proteins and vitamin D, but he’d drink it anyway because he loves it.
Not that he needs the vitamin D - he obviously spends his share of time outside. His sun kissed hair is proof of that. A little long and shaggy right now, but cool enough for him - and the ladies certainly like it. Though diligent with the sunblock, his baby smooth skin has been caressed by the sun, too. Exactly seven tiny freckles punctuate his golden farmer’s tan.
This morning is for running errands. HEB for groceries, maybe a stop at Ikea to see his friend, Maria, and check out what’s new or what’s in As-Is. These days it’s really too hot do much outside. If he were to get moving earlier, a run at Memorial Park might be in order, but not today. While not entirely in control of his time, he has a lot of freedom. His job is simply to be himself and he’s good at it. Unapologetically impulsive, his moods change in an instant and he wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s quick to tell you what he thinks but if something comes out wrong, you know that it’s without malice.
Getting dressed is hit or miss. Most of the time he is content to wear anything, with a penchant for the extreme casual. Today it’s his favorite cutoffs and his ‘vintage’ Star Wars t-shirt. His biggest decision will be footwear: Chuck Taylor low-tops, Keen sandals or his robot flip flops. After reminiscing about his long-gone brown low-tops, he settles for his sandals.
Heading out the door to the titanium silver BMW (Bimmer, he likes to call it) in the driveway, he grabs his red-flamed sunglasses to protect his Caribbean blue eyes. Eyes that, under those mirrored lenses, see everything that you don’t: a Fruity Cheerio lodged in the crease of his seat, a dog with a red leash, an orange backhoe loader at a construction site, a fast red bicycle. Eyes that gleam with mischievous humor when he tells his favorite joke. Eyes that turn flat and dark when he doesn’t get what he wants and reflect only unfocused calculation.
But today is easy going. He’s got everything he wants. He sings the Spanish alphabet under his breath and lets his fingers caress the yellow wildflowers growing haphazardly along the sidewalk. He pauses to pick up a piece of chalk and draw a circle on the concrete. After a little prompting, he discards the chalk, brushes the dust off on his shirt, reaches up to hold my hand and asks me, “What kind of nuts do you like, Mommy?” “Cashews,” I answer. “Bless you!” he retorts with mile-wide smile.
I was the lucky first to read mine in class and have it critiqued. I liked much of what was said, good and bad, and will work on revisions this week.
Zane: That snake has poop coming out.
Me: Mmm-hmm.
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