Sprinkle Diversity

So my son's favorite restaurant is Sweet Tomatoes. Yep. You read that right. My 5-year-old kindergarten son loves the restaurant most known for its vegetables. Go figure.

After he eats his fiberlicious, colon cleansing goodness, we allow him to have a portion of ice cream with sprinkles.

Normally, they have sprinkles that go with the season. For Christmas, they have red and green. For valentines, they have red and white. I was half expecting for my son to come back with an array of atumnal sprinkles, but alas, all they had were brown. Which, I know, are part of the fall color line, but I was slightly dissapointed there was no orange or red as well.

The brown sprinkles must have lingered in the same container that had once housed a different gathering of sprinkles because on top of the brown mountain that sat before him was a lone yellow sprinkle.

My son was entranced with the oddity.
He was so excited that he quietly came up with a story about the "One Yellow Sprinkle." I will try to transcribe as accruately as possible.

One Yellow Sprinkle sitting all alone
A brown one says "Lets make fun of him!"
"He doesn't look like us, he is yellow!"
A little brown one says,
"No, it's not a good idea. He is all alone."
A different brown one says,
"It is a good idea! There is one yellow one and a hundred brown ones. We will win!"
The little brown one says,
"He may be yellow, but he is still a sprinkle, just like us."
"He is different!" said one of the big brown sprinkles.
The little brown one said,
"We are different too. I am small, you are big. We are different shapes and sizes, but we are all sprinkles."
The little brown sprinkle went to the yellow sprinkle.
"Hello sprinkle friend. Want to play?"


So much from one so little.

The Final Weekend of Summer, Part I

Logan starts kindergarten tomorrow (Monday, for those late readers), and that is also the day I start back to work after this overly hot and sticky summer. I am going to be sad to be away from my son while he is at school and I am at work, but I look forward to a new group of students and finding different ways to mess with their impressionable high school minds.

Muah ha ha ha!

But really, I am not completely evil, just evil's distant relative.

My husband and I really wanted to make this last weekend special, so we planned an exciting long weekend full of action and adventure, firsts and lasts, and “awww!” inspiring quotes from the boy himself.

Randy (husband, in case you didn’t know…) took Thursday and Friday off of work to facilitate this weekend of excitement, and Logan and I enjoyed this extra family time together.

So our story will begin with last Thursday, the first day of the best summer weekend ever.

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Randy caught wind of this a long time ago, but only mentioned it a few weeks ago in his subtle-I-hope-she-approves-without-me-even-asking sort of way: Star Wars Celebration V.

That’s right, a once every two years massive officially Lucas Film sponsored Star Wars convention, and it was coming to Orlando. The nerds rejoiced.

And when I say nerds, I include my husband in that as well.

And maybe me too…a little bit. A little corner of my mind. Somewhere in the right frontal lobe….but just a smidgen.

So, yeah. This Star Wars Celebration convention thing. It was going to be here Thursday through Sunday, but only really hardcore (read: disturbingly, and perhaps compulsively, obsessed) fans go all four days. We checked out what was going to be going on each day, and decided that Thursday was the best option for several reasons.

Reason #1: Since it was a Thursday, it wouldn’t be as busy. Sure, out of towners are more likely to go all days, but locals wouldn’t go on a weekday. Unless they were taking a special day off. Like we were. D’oh.

Reason #2: They were selling special, limited edition memorabilia, and they happened to be things we already casually collect anyways; Disney pins and Hallmark ornaments.

Well, we had two reasons. Also, Friday was the open house for Logan’s school, Friday and Saturday were more expensive, and Sunday is church day. So, really, the only option was Thursday. Huh. Really didn’t need to list out reasons in order to create a rationalization, did I?

Have you ever been to a Star Wars convention? Have you? Imagine the greatest weirdness you have ever seen, add it to the idea of any amount of weirdness you haven’t seen, and then multiply that by a gazillion. Yeah. THAT is how weird it was.

There were costumes….oh boy were there costumes. The frockery ranged from chain store Halloween costumes to professionally created garments to craft projects from hell. There were slave Leias everywhere…in all shapes, sizes, and ages. There was at least one, ahem, mature slave Leia. Think about your grandma, then add about ten years. Yup. Mature all right….

There was also a scantily clad Ewok. Figure that one out.

The best part about this day was the fun the boys were having. Logan and Randy were just beside themselves, and Logan’s head kept whipping from side to side attempting to take it all in.

When we first got there, I saw a trooper thing walking in, and I pointed it out to Logan.

“Look Logan! It’s a storm trooper, or a clone trooper, or something like that!”

And Logan, acting more like a 13 year old middle schooler than a 5 year old not-quite-kindergartener replied,

“Moooooomy, that’s a clone trooper.”

What an embarrassing mommy I am. I can’t even tell the difference between a clone and a storm trooper!

I blame Randy.

Eventually, we did have to leave.

Logan pouted and whined.



Randy pouted and whined.



But we had kindergarten parent night at Logan’s new school, so the Star Wars celebration would have to end.



Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away, the best weekend of the summer had begun.

All You Need

I swear, I don’t know where the kid gets it.



This kid, Logan, our son, seems to be more in tune with the emotional world than many adults that I have encountered.


We were eating lunch, and it happened to be surprisingly cold in the restaurant. I was perfectly fine with it because the heat index was hovering around 100 degrees, but Logan is smaller and more easily affected by drastic changes in temperature.


“Brrr…It’s cold in here!” he said between bites of his food.


“Mommy, give me a hug to warm me up.”


And why would my hug warm him up?


Because...


“Your heart is warm, your love is warm, and my family is warm!”


Oh. My. Earthygoodness.


Yeah, I hugged him. Very tightly, and I didn’t let go.


That is, until, Logan started to struggle a bit.


“Umm mommy? I am having a hard time here,” he gasped.


“Why?” I asked, surprised.


“Because I can’t breathe, and humans need air,” was his reply.


I laughed, released him from my hug-o-oxygen depletion, and let him finish his lunch.


Lunch, air and love. What else could a human really need?

All In Good Taste...

My son has decided that since the school year is about to start, Christmas is just around the corner. I tried to explain to him that between now and Christmas there would be Labor Day, Halloween, Thanksgiving, and at least four birthdays.

This didn't phase him one bit;

"We can just skip Halloween."

Seriously? What kid would so readily give up the one night they can cause general havoc without recourse, and procure a seemingly endless supply of sugary delights?



My kid.


Since he made the authoritarian decision to do away with the night of fright, he was able to quickly transition into the Christmas spirit. Of course, with a five-year-old, this meant making a list of all of the useless junk that would make fabulous gifts.


So begins his Christmas list.


And he started making it while we were walking around Sam’s Wholesale Club.


Would you like a sneak peak of what is on this list?


    Salmon burgers

    6 pound bag of penne pasta

    Cherries

    24 pack of soda (multiple varieties, of course)

    Prosciutto wrapped around basil and mozzarella cheese…


   

    …and a cow tongue (should I start worrying about him now?)



I closed my eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose, turned to my husband, and said,


“I blame this all on you.”


You see, my husband is a whiz of a cook. He has a culinary degree, he used to be a professional chef, and he creates amazing gourmet tailgates for University of Central Florida football games (Go Knights!!!)


So, these items on his Christmas list might look strange to anyone else, but my son explains them as “…needed for the party.”


He wants so much to be like his dad.


And he wants so much to share this part of himself with others.

Of course, his list will evolve to include the latest Transformers, books, Legos, and other toys he will eventually forget. He is five, after all.


But for now, he is planning a pretty awesome feast to share.

Unconditional Love

"Mommy, I love you even though your legs are spikey!"

We were in the car, on the way home from a trip to our favorite entertainment spot, Target, when my son went very quiet. My husband and I figured that he was getting sleepy, and that he would be snoozing at any moment.

We were in deep conversation while we mistakingly thought our son was nodding off when his voice suddently piped up from behind us:

"Mommy, I love you even though your legs are spikey!"

I shot my husband a dangerous look as his head flung back and he laughed uncontrollably, maniacally even. Of course, my son was beaming. I looked back at him, and his cheeks were pink with delight, and his eyes sparked in an "aren't I adorable, you can't be mad" kind of way.

My husband, smartly, was trying to supress his giggles, but he wasn't very successful. My son wasn't even trying. He was having a full on laugh attack.

What did I do? I laughed, and I fought the urge to cry my eyeballs out.

No, not because of any damage to my pride. Once you have a child you start to care less about things like spikey legs, daily makeup application, or stains on white shirts.

I was tearing up because my son loved me despite my flaws, and his declaration was the best way he could explain that in his five-year-old way.

He gets it, and he loves me. No matter what.

A Beginning

"Lump sock!!!"

I was done. My five year old was hungry and tired, he just didn't know it yet. You have been there too, right? Trying to do something as simple as ensure a boy has matching shoes and socks can quickly turn into a miniature melee.

That's right. My son went medieval.

I wrestled with his pointy elbows, his knobby knees, his banshee scream, and when I finally jumped up I proclaimed the job finished. He had socks on, and he had shoes on. They were even on the right feet.

And then, as I was getting ready to get him out the door, he yells:

"LUMP SOCK! I have LUMP SOCK!"

Not only had he gone medieval on me, he went cro-magnon as well. He even included a few well placed grunts.

And then he did that thing that I am sure all children come equipped to do: he turned his bones to jelly and gained 50 pounds. This caveman boy-child wasn't going anywhere.

"LUMP SOCK!"

My husband and I stood there, stunned, and we couldn't help but break out into laughter. We started to join in the chant:

"Lump sock, lump sock!" We practically paraded around the family room with our new-found terminology for having an annoying bunching of a sock while in a shoe.

Caveman boy-child started to giggle, his moment over, and joined us.

"Lump sock!" Perhaps our new family motto.

Slow things down, take it easy, and pull up your socks before you put your shoes on.