Dawn Is Me

We’re having a fairly typical upstate NY spring: nice warm days and chilly nights. Overnight temperatures range in the upper-40s to mid-50s or so.

That means that, when I’m in the process of pitching the little darlings out the door for their last few days of school, there usually needs to be some kind of light-jacket-wearing occurring.

Sadly for Ricky, I haven’t found a way to make sure he actually has one of those light jackets, sort of gluing it to his sturdy little body.

In the space of two years, he has lost five jackets. Including the hoodie I got him this fall when I found I was too wracked by maternal guilt to just let him freeze — the natural consequence of constantly losing your jacket when your mom isn’t rich — as had been my original intention.

He loses his jackets because he takes them off. Like most of my children, he is inclined to behave as if this entire village is his personal clothing closet. Unlike the rest of my children, when he drops his jacket on the grass or on the school bus seat or in the pool room at the high school or anywhere else, he always seems to forget to pick it back up again when he leaves.

He seemed pretty cold when he left the house this morning. I could say something like, Let that be a lesson to you, my boy, but I know it won’t.

He could be forced to struggle through a blizzard in his shirt sleeves, it wouldn’t make him any less skitter-witted.

So, instead, let it be a lesson to you. Don’t let anybody tell you that the little girls are the scatterbrains.

I got proof!

[tags]boy people, girl people, forgetfulness, lost clothing[/tags]

I usually have a space of time in the early mornings (in between bouts of throwing children out of the house) which I told myself was perfect for updating this blog. We see how long that lasted. ::sigh::

Slugger Ricky is playing left field (almost typed ‘left fiend’ – wonder what Freud would say about that?) for the Moose Lodge [insert an animal or something here] team. Other teams are sponsored by and named for such exciting entities as Mang Insurance and Mirabito Fuel.

It’s good that Ricky has found a sport he seems to like to play. His dad is getting into it, too, dredging up ancient memories of playing baseball as a kid in Texas.

Sadly, Mom is not a baseball fan. In fact, Mom feels that baseball has got to be the most boring sport ever invented, with the possible exceptions of golf and curling.

Eventually, I suppose I will find myself dragged to one of his games where I will have to try to appear enthusiastic as I yawn my way through the six innings that they play at this level.

But never mind me. Ricky and Dad are happy. They’re doing that inter-generational male sport bonding thing. I would never dream of interfering.

[tags]baseball, little league, father/son bonding[/tags]

It’s Ricky’s birthday today. He’s only ten but he seems to be getting an early start on creeping senility.

He came wandering downstairs this morning to ask me why all the clocks said 6:36.

Me: Because that’s what time it is. Why? What time does your clock say?

Ricky: 6:36

Me: So, what’s the problem?

Ricky: Am I supposed to be up now?

Me: Ricky, what time do you usually get up for school?

Ricky: 7 o’clock

Me: Then you don’t have to be up yet, do you?

Ricky: Oh.

… and he wandered away again.

This is why children make for such good copy. No writer, no matter how vivid their imagination, could possibly make this stuff up.

[tags]alarm clocks, kids, mommyblogging[/tags]