Thanksgiving

With the impending holiday, I've been talking to Jack about what Thanksgiving means (and what it does NOT mean: presents). I don't know how effectively you can impart the importance of this day to an almost-3-year old, but I'm trying. I explained about the pilgrims and the Indians, and how important food is. This of course sparked a tangent conversation about what we were having for dinner. I tried to steer him back to the topic at hand, and I told him (hoping to hit a nerve) that some people don't have food for dinner. They have no choices because they have nothing. Jack was flabbergasted...I had stunned him into silence. (For those of you who don't know Jack, this is a near-impossible feat and the appropriate response is disbelief and awe.)

After considering this, Jack asked, "We give them food?" I was reduced to tender tears at the thought of my boy thinking about someone besides himself, and I told him that we CAN give them food. He said, "We go to the store? We get them food?" So we decided that Jack would do some chores and I would give him "monies." He picked up all of his books and put them away, swept (ish) the kitchen floor, and made his bed.

We went to the Teeter to pick out some canned goods--Jack chose green beans, pinto beans, okra and corn. Considering his usual smells, these choices are not surprising. I added some tuna and a box of mac and cheese to our pile. We went to check out and Jack proudly presented his $3 to the cashier, and then insisted that I keep his change. "I don't have pockets!" he exclaimed.

Tomorrow we will take the food to his school, where they have a donation box for the local food bank. I am excited to see him leave his very own purchases there in what will probably be his first truly selfless act. I can only hope that there are many more to come.

Hear me Roar!

Jack was climbing all over me the other day, slightly sick and therefore extremely clingy. As he clambered up the front of me, I complained, "You are such a Spider Monkey!" He paused, looked at me and said, "Nooo, I am a little boy. I am a MAN!"

Read My Mind...

On the way to my Mom's house for our weekly dinner, Jack was riding in the back seat barraging me with questions about everything that we passed. "Mommy, why are the leaves orange?" "Why does that cow have horns?" "Why are there clouds in the sky?" "Why do we have birthdays?"

While catching my breath between his interrogations, I marveled at how much he wondered. I can vaguely remember rides in the car with my Mom, watching the world go by out the window, and wondering everything. What exactly happens to us as we get older that takes away our ability to marvel and wonder about every little thing in the world? I think that I've got it--worries. As a child you have no worries...maybe about what Mom's cooking for dinner or if you did your homework, but other than that your uncluttered mind is free to wander, and wonder. I try to do it myself; to push away the worries, the nagging responsibilities, to unfetter my ability to wonder, dust it off and set it free. It is an important question--"WHY?"--and I fear that as adults our whys turn complicated: "Why is this happening to me?" "Why is there so much hate in the world?" instead of the little tiny whys that are so important, so vital to happiness.

Inspired by Jack (and practically hoarse from my explanatory lectures), I vowed to come to his level: to ask my own whys and wonder at the little things. After all, if we can't go back to being a child, we can at least learn from them, and learn to mimic their innocent wonder and unsullied contentment to be in a world where not everything can be explained, but everything is wonderful.

Halloweenie

We had a very fun Halloween here, Jack was dressed as a robot and even stood still long enough for me to get some silvery face paint on him. It was adorable. Unfortunately they had a big party at school that included a lot of junk food and NOT a lot of napping, so he was not as enthusiastic about walking all over the neighborhood. He did a lot of riding on shoulders.

We had a TON of trick-or-treaters come our way, and no one was more excited about that than Stanley. He would have answered the door himself if he could have. He barged out onto the porch before I could even get the door open (every time!) and inspected all of the children and their bags. Then Jack would finally get to the door and insisted on doling out the candy himself. The problem was that I had included in our candy bowl a few bags of Hershey kisses and tiny Reese's cups, so being the anal child that he is, Jack was issuing single pieces of candy to each trick-or-treater. One at a time. I had to follow up with handfuls when he wasn't looking. Add to the mix the whippet with his head in everyone's bag and Dinah darting all over the place (kids make her nervous) it was almost complete chaos.

We got rave reviews of the black lights in our dining room, blinking scary eyes in the windows and seriously ghoulish witch on the front door--all designed by Jack. It was too cute---some of the kids didn't want to scare him with their costumes, so I had to assure them that Jack was unscare-able. The gorier and creepier the better. He LOVES to be scared...I always sneak up on him with the "BOO!" and he laughs and laughs. Dan, not so much, hehe.