kiwords

I arrived at the door of Max’s classroom to pick him up this afternoon. His teacher was standing there, wearily handing out papers to parents. The end of the school year is hard. Teachers are tired, kids are wild…it’s tough. Anyhow, I took my paper from Ms. Sue and asked her how Max’s day had been.

“Oh, fine…wait, I almost forgot! Max, do you want to tell her what happened?”

Oh dear. That’s simply never a good sign. Max looked at her blankly, completely clueless about what she might be referring to. She led us into the classroom, telling me about a box they have to play with. It contains magnets and things that stick to magnets. Max was playing with this box, and he took out a paper clip. He bent it open, then stuck it in an electrical outlet.

You read that right.
He scanned the room for good places in which to poke the end of his paper clip, and decided the best thing to do would be to PRY BACK the covering over the electrical outlet in the floor, and insert said paper clip.

“It went POP!” Max explained, “and there was SMOKE!” Ms. Sue nodded.

“Right. Smoke, and the entire computer lab next door shorted out.”

I goggled at Max.

“Honey…didn’t you know that was a dangerous thing to do?” He nodded. “THEN WHY DID YOU DO IT?” He gave me an exaggerated shrug and replied indignantly,

“HOW SHOULD I KNOW?”

Ahem. How, indeed?

I checked Max for any signs of burns or alien mind control, but none were found. So I apologize profusely (you’ll be happy to hear that the computers are all OK), and hauled Max out to the van. There were many many diatribes loving dialogues about why he shouldn’t ever put anything in an electrical outlet, besides a plug, and OH BY THE WAY, if it’s dangerous, DON’T DO IT. OK? PRETTY PLEASE? Max was deeply affected by my words of wisdom, as evidenced by his comments of, “Can I have a snack?” and “Do you think this rock would fit in my ear?”

*sigh*

Tonight Max was helping me make supper. I was making black bean soup (insanely easy recipe – MOST NIGHTS – cue foreshadowing). Max was rinsing the cans of beans and dumping them in the pot or blender. I added broth to the beans in the blender, and he punched the button to turn it on. It was all very cozy and sweet. I gave Max the go-ahead to turn the blender off and turned to search the spice cupboard for cumin. While my back was turned, Max decided to take the blender off the base. Only instead of LIFTING it off, what he did was UNSCREW the blender. I heard a, “uh-oh,” and a great SPLOOSH as two cans of blenderized beans poured all over the counter, the stove, the floor, and the front of Max. It was a SEA of beans. I turned to see him standing there, holding the empty blender, as pureed beans dripped off his feet, down between the counter and stove, and pretty much every where. He fixed me with a panicked look.

I put my head down on the counter and did some Lamaze breathing. Seconds ticked by, with nothing but the sound of rivulets of beans pouring down the lower cabinet doors. Finally I said as levelly as possible,

“Max. Honey. That was not your fault. That was an accident. I’m not mad at you. But I need you to leave now, ok? Wash your hands…and feet…and go change your clothes, ok?”

He scurried off quickly enough that I suspect he didn’t ENTIRELY buy my statement about not being mad at him. I scooped up black beans, scrubbed every surface in the world, and continued with the cleansing breaths. When Max came back down the stairs in clean clothes, I was calm enough to sit down and give him a hug.

“Max, did you learn anything?” I asked.

“Yes. I learned that you DON’T stick things in electrical places.” He already KNEW that, but OK. “And I learned not do take the blender off without a grown-up there.” He looked at me, big wide brown eyes. I nodded back.

“Good. If you learned something, you’re doing your job.”

“Well, then it’s a good day, huh, Mama?” He nodded, relieved, and bounded off to watch TV.

It would be ok with me if tomorrow is NOT the same kind of good day. I’d take boring. Please?