Change

As the sun comes out earlier and stronger and longer, I am in the house less and less. I look for every chance to get outside on a nice day. I'd be out there right now but the wind is gusting about 40 mph and I feel a little parched from being windblown for the past few hours. The greatest part of this weather trend is that I have been able to talk Eli into getting out with me- he bikes while I run. Earlier this spring, before he got this new bike with gears, we were a pretty good team. He would make comments like, "Mom, I haven't even pedalled once this whole block....I think we are going so slow that I might not have to pedal at all this time." To which I was obliged to answer, "Oh yeah, if I pushed you over, would you have to pedal to get started up again????" I mean, I can only take so much abuse as I am huffing down the block. He'd chuckle away and forget his gripes, getting back into his monologue of things he has been waiting to tell me about. We go out for about 40 minutes and he is able to keep up both sides of the conversation, which is great, because I'm breathing so hard I can barely speak. It's a lovely time. Now he has a new bike with gears and I lose him on the uphills. Or, I guess, he loses me. But he always waits at the top.
So Easter afternoon we're out enjoying a lovely late afternoon bike/run. He is chatting away about this and that and then all of the sudden veers into a conversation about the easter bunny. "Mom, where did you get those star wars guys?"
"What guys?"
"The ones the Easter Bunny brought for me." (I know, star wars guys, not so easter-y)
"Well, I wouldn't know, would I? The Easter Bunny got them."
"Mom. Cut the crap. It's not like you are going to totally crush me if you come clean about this. I mean, I think I've got this figured out".......pedal pedal pedal....."But then again, I don't really want to insult him if he is real"....pedal pedal..."then he might not bring me anything."
"What if you just insulted her anyway because she's a she???"
The double take he did right there- the fear in his eyes thinking that maybe his chips had been cashed and the bunny was now pissed at him- that made me realize that he still does believe. Despite the old 'cut the crap'.

It's a bummer when....

As I was searching my one small box of 'memorabilia' in the basement (neither Jon nor I are keepers and we really only have one box each down there from yesteryear) for some old letters for Eli (new stamp collector) I found a book I had made as a child. It was titled "Bummers" and each page started with either "It's a bummer when..." or "Don't you hate it when..." It produced quite a few laughs. Eli's favorite was "Don't you hate it when your ice cream cone drops into the dog dish and your mom makes you eat it anyway". We started making up new bummers. My first and most important one is this: It's a bummer when you get out of the shower and you are all fresh and clean and you sit down to go to the bathroom, only to realize that SOMEONE has forgotten to raise the seat while he pees and there is urine all over the seat, only now it is on your fresh clean bottom!! Kind of long, I admit, but you have to agree that the degree of bummer-tude is high.
Then, this am, Theo woke up and came downstairs. Before he eats he can be a bit of a grump sometimes. This morning he was the last down and most of the waffles had been eaten, but I presented him with a plate piled 4 high. When he ran upstairs to use the bathroom (and undoubtedly pee on the seat) before eating, Jon snatched one. Theo returned, saw his diminished pile and got a little grouchy. I told him that there was one more in the waffle iron and he decided to wait for it and then dig into all 4 at once. He waited, and waited, while I got distracted cleaning up the kitchen. After much time I saw him waiting and went to check on the waffle. It was burnt to a crisp. Like a cracker. I took it out and made apologetic noises about the ringer not working so we were not alerted to it's completion. He scowled. Thought about a hissy fit and how much he might enjoy it. I saw it all cross his face. And then he says, "It's a bummer when the waffle dinger doesn't work and your fourth waffle burns to a crisp like a cracker." And he tucked into the other three with a smile.

Alarm clock

When I was a kid I had this little trick I used to get myself to wake up at the right time in the morning. I would pretend to unscrew a little piece of my head and pull out a slice of brain. Not kidding. Then I would unroll a piece of paper that happened to be rolled around this slice of brain, and I would write down the time that I wanted to wake up. Then I would roll the paper up and screw the brain piece back in. And I would wake up at that time (or thereabouts). I did this often. Anyway- Eli has always had his own internal alarm that unfailingly dings at 6:50. Sometimes 6:52 or 53. There are days that I would love for him to sleep a little later. So yesterday I unveiled my trick to him. He looked at me with bugged out eyes and cried out weakly for his dad when I proposed that we try this on him.... But in the end he let me do it. So we decided not to up the ante too much and just tried to push him back to 7:10. We went through the process and wrote 7:10 and got him all tucked in. Theo wondered what we were up to, so through quite a fit of giggling all around we showed him the trick. He wanted in and wanted me to write 7:50- which is about when he usually wakes up anyway. We did. Then, as I was snuggling him before he went to bed he started unscrewing his brain-piece-clock and wrote a new number. I asked him 'what'd you write?' His response? NOW!

The results: Theo was up often during the night. Shoot. Eli opened up his eyes as his clock struck 7:10. We were all amazed. Tonight I'm writing 8:00.

Down by the river

On Sunday the boys and I headed down to the Mississippi for a stroll. Eli and Theo were sporting their rain boots and were thrilled to test the depth of the many puddles along the river road. Then we decided to go off-road. We threaded our way down a small path off of Jefferson- the same path I often took with my grandparents 35 years ago on beautiful spring days. They would lead us down to the river where we would scratch our names into the sandstone and throw rocks into the river. The boys and I treaded carefully down the soggy path- following the same route as the trickling water from the snow melt. At the bottom Eli and I threw some rocks, scratched our names in the sandstone using the harder chunks of limestone that were scattered on the path. Theo was only interested in scurrying around collecting what he called fossil. I didn't really believe that he was so easily unearthing anything fossil-like, but upon a close inspection of his goods, sure enough the rocks he had collected were chock full of sea creature fossils from millions of years ago. He quietly filled up the pockets of his jacket, then his pants. While we carefully picked our way back up to street level I turned around to see why Theo was taking so long. There he was 100 yards back, bent over his latest find. I watched him straighten up, force a rock bigger than his hand into his pocket and start a little jog to catch up. As he ran up the path his pants were forced south by the loads in his pockets. Every few steps he had to stop and adjust, but never did a complaint come out of his mouth. I didn't have a camera so I had to just capture the image in my heart.

Tonic

For the past few days here in St. Paul the weather has provided a wonderful working definition of the word 'tonic'. It has been all we could possibly ask for. Sunny, light breezes, anywhere from 50 to the higher 60's. It's that kind of weather that begs you to go for a run. Dares you to deny your body's desire to stretch and jump- to smile. It is a day like today that makes you want to keep living here. Because how wonderful would 55 and sunny feel if we didn't have to get through the winter first? Anyway- coming in just now from the grocery store- lugging my bags from car to front steps- I recalled that just last week while performing this same task I was braving subzero windchills and several times did the windmill as I slipped on the ice. I fear I was quite grumpy- certainly not smiling. Today- how can you not??? The word tonic kept running through my head and I came in to look up the actual definition. Here it is: Anything that invigorates, refreshes, or restores. Producing or stimulating physical or mental vigor. I have fully enjoyed the invigoration and refreshment I have felt over the past few days. But the aspect that I most needed was the restoring. Most prominently, the need for my faith in Minnesota to be restored. It has. And I am so delighted that as soon as I hit 'publish' I can slip on my running shoes and hit the streets sans jacket. Now I'm just waiting for the mental vigor to kick in. That seems to be lagging behind a bit....

Crocodile

Theo's got one of those loose teeth right now- the kind that is just dangling by some kind of thread, but refuses to come out. I've tried to pull it. But I am admittedly a bit wimpy about that. I feel its slipperly little mass start to give in my hand and I utter a little screach and then retreat. I don't know why I have this reaction. I think it's a deep-seated repugnance at seeing these guys grow up. Eli is such a lanky near-teen right now that I'm holding hard to anything that is still soft and smells sweet. This would not be Theo's feet. Somehow he got the stinker gene when it comes to feet- don't think Eli has ever actually broken a sweat nor produced an odor in his life. Anyway- back to the tooth. It's front and center and the kid can not let it be. His tongue is constantly swinging it back and forth- which is fine unless you are laying down next to him trying to read him a book. It can make a lot of distracting noise. So we were reading last night, Theo swinging the tooth, me shushing him, Eli in the top bunk shushing us both so he can keep tearing through The Return of the King. Then Theo figures out that if he pushes the tooth as far forward as possible and then kind of jabs his bottom lip up under it the tooth will remain on the outside of his closed-lipped smile. I didn't know about this new trick until it hit me that I wasn't hearing any of the tongue-tooth noise. I looked to the left and there he was, one inch from my face with his tooth overhanging his lip and the largest crocodilian smile I have ever seen. I was so close to his face that when he looked at me he went a little cross-eyed. It took me quite a while to get my giggles back under control so we could continue on with the Magic Tree House.
This morning he woke up and while still stretching and stumbling toward my bed in quite the stupor he deftly maneuvered the tooth back to the crocodile position and gave me the grin. I am quite sure that he spent much of the night unknowingly practicing this procedure. I lifted the comforter and pulled his warm little bony elbowed body in for a snuggle.

The Call

Yesterday I got the call. It's one I've been expecting for some time. From Expo Elementary- Theo's school. Lately he has been really working on his risk taking- as in increasing it. He's always had this propensity but now it seems as if he is carefully grooming it. The other day we were skiing out at Willow River with Jean and Rodg. Eli, Jean, and I were out ahead because Eli moves at a significantly quicker pace than his younger brother. Until he hits a hill- going down. Eli is back to the knees together, snowplowing, pole picking, granny-style downhill. Even though he goes about 2.3 miles per hour, he does enjoy it. So, while we were waiting for Theo and his entourage to catch up we went down this littlish hill twice. Eli was just leveling out at the bottom after a careful decent when Theo came around the corner. "A hill!!!" he screamed, then rushed forward, striding wildly until he started to glide downward- whereupon he instantly goes into the tuck. He triumphantly pumped his fist in the air as he passed by his brother at the bottom- thrilled. Then, last Wednesday, while my mom and dad were watching all three grandboys, Theo decided to climb up into the top bunk. This is usually not a problem, but with Max over it takes a new angle. Max is at that place where he is ready to follow his big cousin Theo to the ends of the earth- or atleast to the top bunk. And what does Theo do next? Jumps. Jean caught Max before he followed suit.
So back to the call. I walked into my office just as the phone started ringing. Sure enough, it's Betty, the Expo secretary. She has Theo sitting there next to her. He's alright. He just fell off the top of the slide out on the playgroud. Broke his fall with his head. He's got an icepack on it, but they are pretty sure that they are going to be sending him home at the end of the day with a pretty big bump. I asked if I should come pick him up but she assured me that he seemed fine. So I asked, "If he's fine, do mind leaning over and asking him if he learned anything from this??" Turns out she did mind- but she was more than willing to let me ask him that. I didn't. Not right then, because when he got on the phone there was still a trace of a sniffle in his voice. But here's hoping he did a little learning as he tumbled through the air.