I picked up the boys from school today and ,at first, we met with the carefree joy found in a child after a day of learning. As we started to walk to the car I mentioned that we needed to hurry as we were on our way to the doctor's office for shots. Wow, if ever there was a dramatic turn of events, this was it. Reed even had a slight teary look in his eyes. I suppose to relieve his worry he decided to race Douglas to the car. Douglas made it first and of course did the "I won" dance followed by that most hated song, you know, the na-na-na-na-naaaaa! I think that tune, like salsa, can cause an instant release of acid from my stomach causing an intense reminder of the ulcer in my esophagus. It's also like one of those modern pieces that make you wonder if the composer just grabbed a few guys off the street to hold an instrument and try to play. The only thing that makes me doubt that is that they all seem to know how to hold their instruments. But, that is the first thing they teach you in band or orchestra.
Anyway, Reed was pretty disturbed by this verbal act of Douglas' "rubbing it in". In fact so much that I had to run at full speed with Isaac in arm to stop Reed from repeatedly hitting his brother on the back. Douglas didn't seem at all effected as I think his prideful glow of having won the race must have deflected the blows. Also, that "na-na" song may have some strengthening power, like how Superman gets his power from the sun, Douglas gets it from the song. Just a theory.
After the usual threat of time outs and getting everyone in their seats the mood of the car, and our drive, turned somewhat reflective and contemplative. They kept reassuring me and themselves that it won't hurt too bad and that they would be brave. After that reassurance we somehow got to the subject of housing. I really don't know how kids minds work sometimes. Douglas asked me if our house was old. I said kind of, as it was built in 1968. He then asked if I was born back then and I said that I was born a bit later. Then he asked "did they have tools back then?" What?! Did he think I grew up in the Iron, Bronze, or wooden hammer age? More and more, as my kids get older and begin to contemplate time, I am realizing that I am being seen as a relic. As a kid I remember talking about the "olden days" and of course my parents had a place in them, sorry mom and dad. This is a new stage in my life and experience as a mom. Who needs wrinkles to feel old? Just talk about the "olden days" with your kids. Even throw a handcart in there if needed to spice up the impact. What really made me laugh is when he asked if we had TVs back then and then if we had them in our cars. That was another dating factor in the "how-old-is-mommy?" study. They may start looking for tree rings on my legs and unfortunately I think they'd find them.
To make a long story short, they survived their shots, got stickers, and then got an ice cream cone at MacDonalds for bravery. Mommy recovered with a cold diet coke and a very large Ibuprofrine ( I don't know how to spell that last word and neither does Mr. Spell Czech). Now they are all in bed sound asleep and I am up late accomplishing things like I used to do in the olden days, also known as the Prekidulous Era.
Pictures from the boys field trip to Cook Farms
We're off to see the pumpkins in the wonderful land of Patch...
"Check out this 'olden days' tractor'!"