a day in the life of one little boy

At breakfast, there were hard negotiations.  Luc, 5, looks at me, shrewd blue eyes pretending loving innocence, and says, “Mommy, I’ll give you a kiss if you give me a cookie.  Ginger snaps.  One kiss per snap.”  It’s an offer I can’t refuse.

Later, mid-morning, I find him dancing in the bathhouse wearing one black sock.  “Look, Mom, I’m Luc-ael Jackson!” [does dance moves from Thriller].  Me: snorting coffee through my nose.

After lunch at the Sushi-Go-Round (his favorite), he insists on bringing home his water cup, lid and straw intact.  Turns out he has dissolved a lump of wasabi in it, with the plan to give it to Paul.  “I think it might melt his brain.  Will that be funny?”  Um, yes?

Post-lunch, at the grocery store, I return from selecting cheese to find him in the cart, red-faced and coughing.  “Are you okay?  What’s going on?” I say.  Luc, still sputtering a bit, says, “Oh, I was just testing if I could choke myself.  See?” And he wraps his little hands around his throat and squeezes.  Me: “Arrgh!  Stop that!”

Crossing the parking lot, he shrieks, “Stop!  Wait—!” and I jump, startled.  “What?”  He points at the ground where the asphalt has changed color.  Total seriousness: “It’s lava.” Me: Oh for heaven’s sake.

Later, after we get home, I get mad at Sophie for teasing the dog, who has just been, um, improved, and is pretty unhappy about it.  Sophie stomps off.  “Mom,” says Luc, “I don’t think she should have done that but don’t you think you were a little too hard on her?”  God, he’s so right…

In the afternoon I went to download a bunch of pictures off the camera and found long series on…well, there were about a dozen pictures of dog poop.  That’s right, dog poop.  There might have been some cat poop photos, too.  I didn’t look that closely.  It was…scientific.  In retrospect, I’m pretty sure he was working on this a couple of days ago.  I remember a lot of giggling.

Day’s end, lying down with him while he falls asleep, me nearly drifting off myself…ahhh…suddenly, apropos of nothing I know of, this little voice in the darkness says, “You know what I would really like to know?”  “What?” says I.  “I would really like to know what Medusa looked like before she got the snakes.  I think she must have been very beautiful.”


Oh, and going to bed myself I found a half-dozen glow-in-the-dark spiders on my pillow.  Har.

This is just a small sample.

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