Daily Adventures

I used to have a series of assassination dreams.  Dreams where I'd go out and kill those that needed killing.  They'd show up the most when I was working really, really hard and doing a lot of work.  Now I wonder, kinda, what they might have meant to me, or what it was I was trying to subconsciously balance back then?  I'm taking a dreams and art class as my adult Sunday education class, and it's just bemusing to think about.   There was no fear or distress in those dreams just an even more sharpened sense of the types of efficiency I have always had in sections of my life.

I had a dream this morning with Jet's younger brother in it.  He was just a two-year-old, curled up in my arm, after the four of us went swimming in a crystal clear, hot spring warmed pool in the depths of a blue-black crystal cave.  He was doing great at swimming, chasing his older brother around, and was as sweet as Jet.  His swim diaper was actually better at protecting his butt from the hardness of the rocks when we were sitting and resting a bit.   A very calm dream.  Only sad after I woke up.

Which was when Jet jumped on me and said, "Mom!  Mom!  Wake up.  Breakfast is ready."   Then he lay on me and rocked and rolled until I grunted, "I'm awake.  I'm awake..." and then he fled down the hallway yelling, "Dad!  Dad!  Mom's up!"

( Read more... )

This morning, Jet asked, "Who made God?"

We said, quite honestly, that we didn't know. That there's some that believe there's always been and always will be God, but that it was a good question.

We had dinner at Country Buffet, and in the midst of our meal, the big bee mascot came to our table to sign for Jet to high-5 him. As the guy left, Jet said, thoughtfully, "I don't like it when people are stuffed."

Us either, kid.

At this particular moment, Jet is getting a demonstration of how the Sun makes for longer and shorter days as it goes around the Earth, with a flashlight as the stand-in for the Sun and his one dollar globe as the stand-in for the Earth. While we were thinking it all through, Jet said, "I bet the real earth doesn't have a big C around it."

I like having a kid that thinks.

While talking through evolution and "Who was born first?", Jet said, "Well... we evolved from animals and little plants and things, so it's hard to tell who got born first. I guess the president would know."

I wish.

( Read on about me rather than Jet... hmmm... or don't. *grin* )

"Yeah, I wonder how Mrs. Bauer is going to choose which kids go with which parents? I don't even know if kids will go with their own parents or not, it might be better if they mixed things up." said John.

"Yeah! I wonder how they'll pick?" Pondered Jet. Then he smiled, "Maybe they'll just throw the kids into the air! And who catches 'em gets to take 'em to the zoo!"

"Well, I'd catch you, then." I said.

Jet laughed, "And I'd go wheeeeeeeeeeee!!!!"

John sang the Volare song for some silly reason, and Jet asked what it was from and where he was when it came out.

We said he wasn't even an idea, yet, as we hadn't even met. I said, "Yeah, we were probably still kids when that commercial first came out."

Jet looked shocked. "Oooohhhh... you guys were KIDS?" as if it were inconceivable that we were ever anything but Mom and Dad.

We couldn't help it, we laughed so hard, we couldn't talk anymore.

I know, I know... we *have* only ever been parents to him and he's never even thought we could be kids. So it's perfectly logical. But still...

While we were walking to the car from the restaurant the other night, we walked by a beauty salon and in the window, in neon were several words, one of which was "Waxing".

John, with his hairy legs, reacted badly. Jet, caught by the display, asked, "What's waxing, Daddy?"

John explained.

Jet responded, "Oooooo... that's SCREAMING owies!!"

And then danced back to the car chanting, "Screaming owies, screaming owies...."

It has now become a by-word of the vacation.

I wasn't doing much with computers while I was at Carl's and at the Con, so I'm having to backfill, it'll take me a while, too, as I'm *also* trying to catch up on sleep, which I've been well short of recently. *grin*

But there were two incidents I wanted to capture for my memory as well as insight for a friend on six-year-old synapse wealth...

Last night we were at Cold Stone Creamery, and Jet got rainbow sprinkles and white chocolate chips mixed into a "smoothie sorbet", which was actually quite nice and fat-free, which he didn't know, but hey, he liked it! He ate half of it, and then stopped. John asked him if he was done and Jet said, "Yeah. I'm done."

"What about the chocolate that's left?" I asked.

"It's too goaty." Said Jet.

John and I blinked, "Goaty?"

"Yeah. It's too goaty."

"Why is it goaty?"

"Goat cheese. Goat cheese is white and creamy like the chocolate, and I think it's too goaty to eat more of it." said my child.

"Ah. Okay." says I frantically trying to make some kind of connection to a comment I might have made about a farm cheese at the farmer's market or... something...

( Cut for folks get offended if dead human bodies aren't considered as relics of sorts. There is a pastor involved who did think it very funny, but... uhm... )

Last night, after I'd discovered the break I was worried and feeling very grumpy and Jet was merrily nattering on about something, and I grumped, "Momma is cranky."

"You are NOT cranky, Momma."

"I am. I feel really grumpy and cranky right now, Jet."

"Ah," said Jet in that voice of enlightenment. "You feel grumpy, you're not acting grumpy."

"It's true. I'm not yelling at you or anything." I say, feeling not much better, but at least good that I'm not doing what I well know I shouldn't.

"Yeah. I don't like it when you yell at me." Said the boy contemplatively.

"Yeah. I don't like it, either." And we nodded together.

"So you're not being cranky, you just feel cranky."

"Yeah. I guess you're right." And for no real reason I felt a lot better.

I am working on the very lacy feather and fan socks, kind of in a women's medium size for a normal sock.

Jet came by last evening and said, "Who are those socks for, Mom?"

"I don't know yet." I answered as I put a few more stitches in.

"Are they for you?"

"I don't think so."

"Are they for Granny or Poa Poa?"

"Nope."

"Why aren't you making socks for me or... hey, they could be for Sadie!"

"I don't know, Jet. I'm not sure if they're exactly for anyone yet. And they're a bit too big for Sadie (who is three)." I'd been thinking about putting them in a charity auction as they're kind of turning into Fabrege egg type socks, all kinds of soft Mediterranean country-side colors in mosaic-type dots with a deep blue-purple and a brown streak of zigzags through it, almost like the ceramic colors for the border tiling there. They have the three-D aspect of the ridged lace, and they're certainly not knock-about socks...

Jet laughed at that, "They can't be socks for Nobody! You can't make socks that aren't for anyone, Mom."

I had to laugh then, too. He's likely right in a way. And, up to now, pretty much every single sock I've made have been for someone very specific. But, for now, I baffled him by saying, "Well, for now I just don't know who they're for."

Thursday was a snow day. We spent most of it digging out and when the city snow plow crews started doing side streets everyone cheered and gave them thumbs up and much happiness everywhere. Gods, I'm sore from shoveling. But we did a good job on our sidewalks, driveway, narrowed to a single car, but letting both out, and we did quite a job on the loop in front of the house. As when the plow came by, ours was the only patch they were able to clear to bare road.

Of course, the boys then went and built a six foot tall snow man in the back yard, as if they hadn't had enough snow. *grin*

( Details of the rest of that day and the last couple of days. )

Jet and I watched The Backyardigans on Friday. Tyrone was "The Master Pie Maker" with all kinds of cool kung-fu moves while he yelped, "PIE-YA!" while Austen was the studious apprentice. Uniqua and Pablo were ninja pie-stealers, sneaky and quiet and they had a great little dance number on top of bamboo.... :-)

It made a great impression, as the pie makers were the pie makers for the Empress, and when she asked for the Great Pie, the apprentice made a huge pile of practice pies and ended up with the Great Pie. Of course, when the ninja came to steal the Great Pie the practice ones were used for, you guessed it, a Pie Fight! Pie-ya!

Ahem.

But the really funny thing is that Jet started saying that the ninja come into our house and our bedrooms every night. That he's SEEN someone opening his door in the middle of the night while everyone was asleep. Turns out our central heating system does better if all the doors are at least ajar in the middle of the night, so after we go to sleep, I usually open his door to let the circulation work better.

And then, the other morning, when John pointed out that Jet's bed wasn't made, Jet said that ninja had unmade his bed but he'd made it when he got up! Yes, indeed... :-) "Ninja unmade my bed!"