Tag Archives: Luc

what would you wish for?

If you’re an Avengers fan, you know all about [cue the woo woo music] the COSMIC CUBE.  The Cosmic Cube is, “like a big cube that if you touch it then you can wish for whatever you want and then it happens in some way.” That from Sophie, who has seen the Avengers “way too many times” this summer.

We’re walking to the candy store, Luc’s nirvana, talking Avengers and what we want to do with the rest of the summer.  Sophie’s pretty excited about the candy store, but she’s playing it cool.  Luc, on the other hand, is nearly bursting with his big plans for Candy Domination.

Luc says, “Loki would wish for the world to be destroyed and be re-carved in his image.  Everyone wants that for some reason.  The villains I mean. But if Ant Man could touch the cube, he would probably wish for world peace and no violence.”

“Huh,” I say, “So, what would you wish for?”

Zero hesitation: “To be a Lightning Ninja.  And to have an automatic cotton candy dispenser.  And own a toy store.  No.  To be a Lightning Ninja who owns a candy store that also sells toys.”

“I see.  No world peace for you?”

Luc shrugs. “Nah.”

Okay, enlightenment in this lifetime may not be in the cards for Mr. Luc.

“What would you wish for?” I ask Sophie.

Shrug.  “I don’t know.  I don’t have anything I want to wish for.”

Is this more playing it cool?  “There has got to be something you want.”

She considers.  “Okay, that I get to play with my friends for as long as I want, any time that I want.”

My daughter, the social butterfly, born to a family of rabid introverts.  “Okay, we’ll work on that.”

“So, what would you wish for?” says Sophie.

“Hmm…”  No medical bills?  No, I’ve got it: infinite riches!  No, no—to be able to always instantly find the remote!  No, no—world peace AND I can always instantly find the remote!

Luc jumps in.  “She would wish for time enough to write 5000 words a day.  And to not ever be tired.”

“Yeah,” says Sophie.  “And to have lots of people read her books.”

“Yeah,” says Luc.  “And chocolate.  Lots of chocolate.”

“Yeah,” says Sophie, nodding.

My kids know me so well.

But we’re approaching the candy store now, it’s in our sights, and Luc forgets about the Cube and begins to sing dramatic music and practically vibrate in excitement.

Sophie laughs.  “Apparently the candy store has its own theme song.”

“Of course it does,” says Luc, exasperated at the obviousness of this.

I’m not sure what I can do about the Lightening Ninja business, I’m still thinking on that. (Aikido classes maybe? Or maybe to make up stories of Lightning Ninjas? Hmmm…)  But the candy and toys and the friends, those wishes I can get right to work on.  Because being a Mom is to have, in the eyes of my kids, the power of the Cosmic Cube.

And every kid ought to get their wishes granted as often as possible, if you ask me.

Because life is short.

cul strikes again

We have a new member of the family, I think.

Yesterday, I walked into the bathroom to find the toilet paper had been unrolled in a big fluffy pile on the floor.  Again.  Luc stood nearby, innocently brushing his teeth, an action suspect in an of itself.

“Who unrolled the toilet paper?” said I.  Rhetorical question for the win!

He looked around, all sneaky like.  “It was Cul.”

“Cool?”

“NO.  C. U. L.  Cul.”  He leaned in close and whispered. “It’s Luc backwards.”

“OH!” He’s so good at getting me laughing when I’m heading down Grumpy Lane. “Cul.  I see.  Cul did this.  Did you try to stop him?”

“Yes.  But I couldn’t.  He jumped out the window.”

Of course he did.

You may know, if you have a Wii, that you can make a little person, a kind of mini-avatar, to play some Wii games. it’s called, I kid you not, a Mii.  Anyway, the kids love to do this as an activity in it’s own right, and our Wii-space is populated by dozens of Mii, some with quite…um…bizarre facial constructions.  And today, I noticed, there was a new Mii, named, you guessed it, Cul.

Cul, it turns out, has black hair, slanty eyes, angry eyebrows, a beard and mustache, and wrinkles.  “Don’t mess with Cul,” said Luc.  “He’s a bad dude.”

I have since discovered Cul’s handywork all over the yurt. Cul ate the last of a ice cream.  Cul took all the pillow cases off the pillows.  Cul put a rubber cockroach in my sleep hat.  (Yes, I have a sleep hat.  It’s a Thing.)

“I’m not sure if Cul is welcome around here,” I said, after my heart stopped pounding from instinctively throwing said rubber roach across the room and just generally, limbic-ly, freaking the fuck out.  I hate roaches.

“Cul doesn’t care,” said Luc. “Cul does whatever he wants.”

Um, yeah.  I respect the desire, but that isn’t going to happen.  Still, with some trepidation, I go with it.  “What else does Cul want to do?”

Luc puts on his totally serious face: “Cul wants to flail.”

Flail?”

“YES.”

And I get it.  For four weeks now, Luc has had his casted up arm tied to his chest for fear that he would dislodge the two pins holding his tiny bones together.  Flailing has not been an option. Neither has drawing, dancing (much), playing two-handed video games, climbing, jumping off of things (what if he falls and can’t catch himself, not to mention lands on the pins…), not to mention the itching, not to mention the not bathing.  Okay, that last one is probably more a problem for me than for Luc.  And certainly not for Cul, who, I have on good authority, Does Not Bathe.

“I see.”

Instead of the Summer of Swimming, it’s become the Summer of Watching Lots of TV.

Luc’s done pretty well, considering.

But, just today, Luc got his big purple cast off (a smaller, blue cast has taken it’s place)! He  is now officially allowed a full range of motion in his shoulder, if not his elbow, because the pins have been successfully removed! And only two more weeks of the small cast and he will be Free to Flail!  We’re all very excited.

Luc has been positively giddy all afternoon.  Favorite activity?  Zombie dancing while singing Thriller.  What will this child think of next?

(I don’t think I’ve seen the last of Cul.)

bad news at blackrock

So, Saturday evening, Luc, 5, fell and broke his arm.  We spent Saturday night in the emergency room, Sunday morning in the operating room, and Sunday afternoon in the recovery room.  Now we’re home, Luc is on fancy pain meds and a cartoon marathon (thank you streaming netflix), and I am a zombie.

At the hospital, things were going pretty well until all the doctors disappeared as all twenty-three operating rooms filled up with every orthopedic surgeon in the county working on on what was apparently an epidemic of drunk people who had tried to blow themselves up with fireworks.  I’m serious, it was a thing.  All the nurses were talking about it.  And suddenly we couldn’t leave because there was not a single doctor available to discharge us.  We had to do battle just to go home and not be kept another night (and another several thousand dollars out of our pocket) for observation.  Screw that, I went into battle mode and broke us out.  It was like a freaking Leverage episode, with Hardison hacking his way through the hospital computers, Parker on a zip line in an elevator shaft, and Elliot pulling his own IV out and growling his way out of there, even though he’s like, been shot six times.  So there was that.

But Sophie was amazing, so kind and patient, helping out—she did the goats and chickens, dog and cat, almost by herself while I was gone, packed away bags for me and Luc that included little nice things I hadn’t thought to ask for (my face cream, my sleep hat, my phone charger, sushi and gingersnaps for Luc—his favorites) and has just generally been cool about her brother being the overwhelming center of attention.  And Paul is a rock.  I’d be lost without him.  Thank goodness for family, right?

And let’s just give a shout out to Steve Jobs because how could I have survived without the ipad I shoved in the bag on the way out the door with a screaming-hurt Luc?  Play a game with the kiddo to pass the time, distract from pain with a movie, shoot out “this has happened” emails to family, google surgery terminology and medicaid acceptance rules and anatomy diagrams, read a book, take a picture of Paul and Luc asleep together in the hospital bed.  I was nearly frantic when I realized I was down to 11% battery charge.

Anyway, all and all, Luc and I were only away for twenty four hours.  But christ I barely recognized my own house when we drove up.  And today, I seem to have lost the will to live.  What was I doing (in this life) before?  What were my goals?  And why did I care about those things?

I’ll probably snap out of it.  These things usually do pass, I think.

In the meantime, I’m on the couch next to Luc, watching fourteen consecutive Iron Man episodes, keeping a little boy hydrated and pain-free in between naps.  Paul and Sophie have gone swimming, which was my organizing force the last few weeks (each day sorted around Before Swimming, and After Swimming) but now No Swimming, at least not for Luc.  Poor baby, how are we going to get through the next eight weeks with no swimming?!?!

Okay, I’m rambling.  But I was thinking this morning that, for the most part, my life has been about the choices I’ve made.  Except for maybe a dozen times when life has thrown a wild card in…maybe good, like turning up pregnant with Luc…maybe bad, like that big car accident when I was seventeen…maybe I don’t know if its “good” or “bad” until years later.  Anyway, from my current perspective, this one isn’t so bad.

For me, anyway.  Of course it’s by far the biggest speed-bump to happen to Luc in his five years!

I wonder how it will change him?

cul strikes again

We have a new member of the family, I think.

Yesterday, I walked into the bathroom to find the toilet paper had been unrolled in a big fluffy pile on the floor.  Again.  Luc stood nearby, innocently brushing his teeth, an action suspect in an of itself.

“Who unrolled the toilet paper?” said I.  Rhetorical question for the win!

He looked around, all sneaky like.  “It was Cul.”

“Cool?”

“NO.  C. U. L.  Cul.”  He leaned in close and whispered. “It’s Luc backwards.”

“OH!” He’s so good at getting me laughing when I’m heading down Grumpy Lane. “Cul.  I see.  Cul did this.  Did you try to stop him?”

“Yes.  But I couldn’t.  He jumped out the window.”

Of course he did.

You may know, if you have a Wii, that you can make a little person, a kind of mini-avatar, to play some Wii games. it’s called, I kid you not, a Mii.  Anyway, the kids love to do this as an activity in it’s own right, and our Wii-space is populated by dozens of Mii, some with quite…um…bizarre facial constructions.  And today, I noticed, there was a new Mii, named, you guessed it, Cul.

Cul, it turns out, has black hair, slanty eyes, angry eyebrows, a beard and mustache, and wrinkles.  “Don’t mess with Cul,” said Luc.  “He’s a bad dude.”

I have since discovered Cul’s handywork all over the yurt. Cul ate the last of a ice cream.  Cul took all the pillow cases off the pillows.  Cul put a rubber cockroach in my sleep hat.  (Yes, I have a sleep hat.  It’s a Thing.)

“I’m not sure if Cul is welcome around here,” I said, after my heart stopped pounding from instinctively throwing said rubber roach across the room and just generally, limbic-ly, freaking the fuck out.  I hate roaches.

“Cul doesn’t care,” said Luc. “Cul does whatever he wants.”

Um, yeah.  I respect the desire, but that isn’t going to happen.  Still, with some trepidation, I go with it.  “What else does Cul want to do?”

Luc puts on his totally serious face: “Cul wants to flail.”

Flail?”

“YES.”

And I get it.  For four weeks now, Luc has had his casted up arm tied to his chest for fear that he would dislodge the two pins holding his tiny bones together.  Flailing has not been an option. Neither has drawing, dancing (much), playing two-handed video games, climbing, jumping off of things (what if he falls and can’t catch himself, not to mention lands on the pins…), not to mention the itching, not to mention the not bathing.  Okay, that last one is probably more a problem for me than for Luc.  And certainly not for Cul, who, I have on good authority, Does Not Bathe.

“I see.”

Instead of the Summer of Swimming, it’s become the Summer of Watching Lots of TV.

Luc’s done pretty well, considering.

But, just today, Luc got his big purple cast off (a smaller, blue cast has taken it’s place)! He  is now officially allowed a full range of motion in his shoulder, if not his elbow, because the pins have been successfully removed! And only two more weeks of the small cast and he will be Free to Flail!  We’re all very excited.

Luc has been positively giddy all afternoon.  Favorite activity?  Zombie dancing while singing Thriller. What will this child think of next?

(I don’t think I’ve seen the last of Cul.)

the death knight strikes again

Here is the Death Knight that Luc, 5, drew on Tux Paint this morning.

Here is Luc himself, telling me about the Death Knight’s exploits.  Gruesome stuff.

Luc is wearing his railroad outfit, left over from an earlier game.  Luc is ALL about having the right costume.  He quickly realized his error, however, in trying to tell me Death Knight stories in a Railroad Luc outfit, and made the necessary wardrobe changes.

Here was his new look:

But that was deemed “not spooky enough.”  Luc is quite the perfectionist with his characters.  Here is the final look, with a new, hand-made mask:

He’s totally right, this IS more spooky.

So there you have it, from early conception drawings, through costume iterations, to final product.  The artist’s creative process at work.

But Death Knights are old news even as I type this up.  Now he is outside making Potions involving dirt, glue, glitter, and four leaf clovers, newly picked.  I don’t know what these potions do, but I’m guessing general mayhem and destruction, knowing my little guy.

Life is always interesting for Luc!  I think it’s his superpower.

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.”

Wow.

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.

four lucisms, and a good one from paul

Paul started getting annoyed the other night at Luc who kept changing his mind about what he wanted to eat.  Finally Paul said, “Get over here and eat this or I’m going to whup you.”

Luc, with zero hesitation, growled back, “BRING IT ON.”  Little five year old guy with cherub cheeks and long blond hair, hands in fists, stomping towards his father with a ferocious, thrilled, look in his eyes.  Fearless.  I fell off my chair laughing.

You want a piece of me?

Then, later in the week, we’re getting ready to go to the dentist, and I, scattered as usual, am calling out instructions, searching for my glasses, my wallet, snack supplies, etc., while Luc plays legos in the middle of the floor, oblivious.  Finally I say, “Luc, we’re getting in the car to go the dentist.  I need you to come now!”

He answers in this friendly voice, “Okay, Mom, I’ve just got to get my battle-ax.”  And, indeed, he came out of the yurt with his battle-ax and a smile.  What exactly do you need a battle-ax for at the dentist, I’m not sure, but it seemed self-evident to him that it was a necessary item.

Speaking of legos, a new batch came in from the thrift store the other day—when you get legos from the thrift store, you never know what special pieces might be in there. In this case, it was a lego Dora.  I found him hitting Dora with a lego hammer.  “How’s it going there?” I asked.  “Oh, we’re going to build a cage to put her in, torture her, and then dip her in lava,” he said.  Sounded pretty happy about it, too.  He looks so cute, and then he says something like that.  Normal little boy?  Or budding psychopath?

Only time will tell.

Look at my muscles, Mom!

And finally, one from Paul, best comment I got all week about turning 40.  I was trying on my skinny jeans, looking in the mirror, thinking of how these jeans looked ten years ago, yes I had them ten years ago, and I asked that killer question, “What do you think?  Too much muffin top?”

To which Paul replied, “I’ve always thought the top was the best part of the muffin.”

Aw, thanks honey.

hats, guns, and dogs

Meet Luc, Outlaw Extraordinaire and a scary gentleman indeed.

That’s a root he found in the park mulch, perfectly gun shaped.  This is what little boys do: they find weapons in the simplest of objects.  I know some moms try to limit, prevent, or disallow gun-play, but this seems like a mistake to me.  If no one is getting hurt, no one is getting hurt.  Trying to make someone else play the way you want them to play is a good way to get yourself booted from the game, which brings your Mom Influence down to Zero.  Or the game goes underground.  I’d rather be in the game any day, then have them play secretly away from me.

Oh, he’s also wearing my hat, which he stole, because he’s an outlaw, and because he, “looks cuter in it.”  Can’t argue that.

So, guns a-blazing, my sweet Luc becomes the baddest of the bad.

It’s an awesome game.  Be BAD, get away with everything, and then go home for snacks.

A word of advice: don’t cross Outlaw Luc!

The only person brave enough to get close to him is his dog.

And his Mom.

Who had to wrestle Luc to get her hat back.  The hat is my new solution to a particularly long run of Bad Hair.  Sophie says it’s my guitar hat, because all guitar players wear hats.  So, clearly, I needed one.

Here is Sophie and Henry, running for their lives from Outlaw Luc.

It was a wild world at the park today!

“What?  I don’t want to go home yet!”

lucisms

I’m having a string of funny kid posts at the moment.  Enjoy, because next is probably a string of depressed writer posts, or how-to farm posts, and they are not nearly as amusing.  Of course, if I’m doing the farming, it can get pretty ridiculous pretty quickly.  But that’s another story.

Anyway, Luc, who recently turned 5, keeps saying cool, funny, surprising stuff today.  Over breakfast, I started writing a few of them down, because the stream flows by so quickly and my memory is so poor—I’m going to miss this stuff when he grows up and moves out (sob!).

A few samples:

Creative name calling: “You’re just a jello marshmallow stupidhead!”

Observations: “I think I know why you do corpse pose in yoga.  If you do yoga your whole life, then you die at the end, and you always do corpse pose at the end, so that’s when you die and that’s why you do corpse pose.”

Moves: When playing with our dog Henry, “Watch out, here comes an Ultimate T-Rex Puppy Smash!”

Connections made: Sophie, inventing a monster, says, “These monsters hunt on their own and have no families.”  Luc, interested, says, “So they have no belly buttons?”

Think about it.

Eating: “My scrambled eggs stomach is full. But my oatmeal cookie stomach is empty.”

Statistics: “The Meat Ball of Terror is the scariest monster, but the Sun-Eating Monster is bigger than everyone except Baby Poop Head, who has the most powers.”

Questions:  “Can I glue this to my face?”

Really, I could walk around taking down Lucisms all day, there are no shortage of them, but I have to go do the dishes.

animals everywhere

I caught this happening outside yesterday morning and ran to get the camera.

What are they doing?  Reenacting some animalistic cave-dweller scene?  It was very purposeful and ritualistic whatever it was.  It had lines and specific poses.  It had a soundtrack.

I can’t tell you how much I love eavesdropping on their games.

Here is a close-up of Luc in his…costume?  Outfit?  What do you call this?

Here is the audience.  No, he still doesn’t have a name, what is the matter with us???  We’ve had him a week already and still no name, but he must be growing fast because he already doesn’t look this small.  It all goes by so fast.

Later that day, a girl and her dog, a dog and his girl….

Turns out integrating a new animal into our group is pretty easy.  Maybe because we already have so many. Animals have such a different sort of consciousness, so in the moment.  I’m amazed at how quickly this little guy has taken to us and our weird ways, no apparent mourning for his loss, instead he seems to have adopted us completely, bossing us around, and generally pleased with himself.  His favorite thing is chewing pine cones, go figure.  I guess everyone needs a hobby.

And finally, you should have seen how we turned into animals when we were served THIS gorgeous thing today….

….for Luc’s birthday!  He’s FIVE today.  I can’t believe it.  His choice of restaurant.  He wanted a sushi platter to end all sushi platters.  Fifteen minutes later, it was all gone.  You’ll notice one is already missing from the symmetry of the design.  Luc couldn’t wait for the photo.  He loves him some sushi.

We’re all animals, we’re all aging and dying, time is passing.  So, as my Great Aunt Flootie used to say (yes, I had a Great Aunt Flootie):

Have fun every chance you get.