kiwords

I glanced under Tre’s desk to see that he had stashed a tray of writing paper at his feet. The edges of the paper closest to him were rumpled and greyed by the endless motion of his shoes.

“Honey? Why is your paper under your desk?”

“Oh, that! I solved the problem of having to walk all the way over there,” he pointed at the cupboard five feet away, “for my paper. Cool, huh?”

I looked down at the lightly mangled paper, then back up at my bright-faced boy who was bouncing slightly on his ball.

“Yeah, but your feet are sort of smashing your paper, Tre.”

He looked down, and shrugged.

“I haven’t figured out all the details yet.”

I was IM ing with a friend this morning when Tre yelled at me from the other room,
”Hey, Mom! This morning, I weighed myself and I weighed 81 pounds.”

“Wow, you’re getting big,” I replied.

“AND THEN? I pooped! And THEN I weighed 80.6 pounds.”

“Oh. You don’t say? Um…thank you? For sharing?”

Toward the end of the church service on Sunday, Max sat bolt upright in his seat, then leaned across Clay and waved frantically to get my attention. I leaned in to hear his whisper.

“Mama? I just noticed something!”

“What, honey?”

“I don’t like pizza anymore.”

I studied him for a moment, waiting for the missing piece of information that would make that make sense. But he just nodded at me seriously.

“Ok, Max. No pizza for you.”

“YOU BET.”

We exchanged thumb-up and went back to contemplating our (apparently verrrry different) thoughts on the sermon.

Raphael is got sent to his room today for a time out. A few…um…ten minutes later, I wandered upstairs to see why he was so quiet. Yeah, I FORGOT I’d sent him off to solitary confinement. I’d been happily wallowing in all the peace and quiet, and it wasn’t until the serenity stretched out longer than normal that I thought vaguely that something wasn’t right and meandered off to see what was up.

Heh.

I’m such a bad mom, did I ever tell you?

Anyhow, Raphael was sitting in the middle of his mattress, playing with his feet and biding his time. I couldn’t help but notice that the mattress was bare. The floor around him was littered with sheets, pillow and pillow case, and his comforter. He grinned up at me.

“Hey there, son. What happened to your bed?”

“Mama? Don’t you know that four plus five is nine?”

“Yes, honey, I know that. What happened to your sheets?”

He looked around and sighed.

“Well, Mama. Those sheets?” He shook his head wearily, “they just weren’t working for me.”

“Oh really? Why not?”

Another heavy sigh.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Well. Ain’t that the truth?