This is a post about this boy of mine:
Finger games are all the rage in our house right now, at least for the two older boys. Alex brought us this gem from school the other day: “What do you think they played before they had scissors and paper? ‘Rock rock rock. Rock rock rock.’?”
Monday after school, we stayed outside enjoying the warm weather while we waited for Julianna’s bus to arrive. Alex was trying to dribble a tennis ball (yes, I do mean “dribble”) and bounce it off the garage door while Michael came toddling along, proud of himself as he could be for still being on his feet. Alex threw the ball, which bounced in front of Michael and then smacked him square in the middle of his forehead. If he’d tried, he couldn’t have been that accurate.
Speaking of boy-related self-damage: Last weekend, Christian and I went on an ice skating date. We were gone for five hours, of which we talked nonstop for 4 3/4 hours, about kids, about loves lost, about friends and how they’re doing, about charity and how to use money…and when we got home, Alex greeted us with, “P. and I were wrestling on the trampoline, and I cracked my tooth.” He was so matter-of-fact about it, I rolled my eyes. And then I looked at it. Half the tooth was missing. And part of the one next to it.
Naturally, this happened on Saturday, so we had to wait until Monday. On Monday I discovered that our dentist is only open every other Monday, and only till 2p.m. a couple other days a week. We ended up going to a pediatric dentist, and I think we may need to transfer there. After all, Alex is only #1. I have #3 and #4 coming up through the ranks of boyhood, and if this is any indication, well, we need a full-time dentist.
This week, Alex has demonstrated a skill I didn’t know he had–an appropriate one for the child of a mother who writes, as it involves some serious language thought. I’m going to start callling him the Pun-ster.
Why was the dinosaur strong? Because it had dino-might!
Why was the dinosaur a bomb? Because it was dyna-might!
Why was the person poking the girl’s dress? Because it was a polka-dot!
(update: at 12:11 p.m., Alex comes running upstairs: “Mommy, I just came up with another joke! What kind of wolf wears clothes?” (wait for it…) “A WEAR-WOLF!”)
Last weekend Alex played Edmund in a children’s review of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. He really enjoyed theater, although he thought it was embarrassing to have girls holding his hand and hugging him. So it begins.
We also had his fall parent-teacher conference last night. His teacher said everyone loves him; he’s empathetic and helpful and considerate of everyone. Sniff-sniff. We also got his standardized test results, which confirm his intelligence. I got to thinking about my own test results from years past, and I’m pretty sure I was always in the 96-+ percentile across the board. For the first time it made me realize what a freak I was for that. LOL
Sorry to hit you with substance at this late date, but I’d like perspectives. I remember in school always thinking that my religious formation was too easy, the answers too obvious. It didn’t bother me at that time, but since then I’ve been very concerned to make sure that formation and catechesis deals with reality. Alex is only two weeks away from his first reconciliation now, and as we go through things with him, it seems like he’s seeing it, too. Almost rolling his eyes at how obvious the answers are, and the connections between the Scripture stories and the sacrament. And the examples he comes home with from school don’t ring true to me. Like, it’s sinful to push someone down on the playground. Yes, but I mean, who really does that? It seems like it would be too easy to think, “Well, I’m a pretty good person, I don’t do stuff like that, obvious sins, so I must not really need all this.” To me, this does not facilitate proper awareness of one’s faults. But Christian does roll his eyes at me and tell me, “Kate, he’s in the second grade.” We-ell, yes, that’s true. But I feel like my religious formation stalled out at a second-grade level, it was always shallow, never digging deep enough to be real, and the only reason it became so was because I went looking myself. So, what do you think? How do you navigate the narrow path between too much and woefully insufficient?
Whew–on that note…have a great weekend!