Just For Fun

Evening dinner tradition usually includes a discussion starter sometime around when everyone's mouths are full of food, eager to dig in and happy to finally be eating. You know that quiet that embarks 2 seconds after you say grace? That one. Usually at that time I throw out my traditional "tell me something about your day" kind of thing. Yesterday I decided to change it up a bit...

"So...who can tell me something I don't know?"
Me in all my mom wisdom was thinking they will tell me something they learned at school today, and try their hand at stumping me.
Baseball Chick offers: "You don't know about possessive nouns."
"Yup. You got that right. I sure don't. Do you?"
"Haha," she says, "maybe not."
"I got 5 things you don't know mom," says Youngest.
"Alright, give 'em to me." I reply.
"One...You don't know how to make a sculpture. And that's one. This one." He says as he gestures to his thumb specifically.
"Two...You don't know how to make a bowl." Where exactly are we going with this?
"And three...You can't really cook." Rounds of laughter erupted as his dead-on analysis of his mother.
"And that makes 5 mom. 5 things you don't know."

"Baseball Chick, do you have that wonderful letter you wrote to your teacher in your backpack?"
"Oh yes, mom."
"Great. But by the way, her name is spelled J-O-H-N, for Johnson. Not J-H-O-N. Just keep that in mind for next time."
"Oh, okay. I was sounding it out, you know. Sounds like J-H. But you know, I think we are equal."
"Equal?" I say.
"Yup. She calls me Lay-a so I'm sure we are equal."

"Oh look Youngest! There's your brother's football team practicing!" I exclaim as we drive home from daycare, past the high school.
"Oh wow...Mom, what is a football practice like?"
"I don't know Youngest. I've never been to a football practice. You should ask your dad when we get home. He would know."
Dead silence...and then: "Nothing's happening."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm asking him. In my head...right now. I asked him and nothing's happening. I can't hear anything."

I walk into the daycare to pick up my dearest Youngest and go to get his stuff out of his cubby box. The lovely little place for his jacket, his extra clothes, you know...stuff that belongs to him. Lo and behold, a tiny little hand is racing to beat me to it. Youngest quickly pulls out a toy sculpture from building squares he has obviously made, and promptly became attached to, today. He gives me the look. You know the look. The one where he's trying to melt me with his eyes. Kind of exactly like the look Dr. Avery gave on the last episode of Grey's Anatomy. Totally using his charm and ability to sway me for what was coming.
"Put it back." I say, quite simply.
"Mom," he says. "If you could just...give me some time." with precise Academy Award winning precision. As if this is his request in saying goodbye to his one true love about to leave the country and his heart forever.
We are talking about plastic one-inch building squares.