“Momma! I got straight A’s!”
“B! That’s great!”
“Exce…pt for a B in Library.”
“Really, B? Library?”
“I guess I kept forgetting to turn in a book.”
Sigh. In the grand scheme of things, in 7th grade, this is not a terrible thing. It’s even amusing. We’re going to have to work on it for high school, though. Lots and lots of gaming going on, because now it’s all about multi-player quests, and they take time. Now if I need or want him to stop, I have to give him half-an-hour’s worth of notice or he risks letting a team of people down. And he has begun planning his evenings around them (as in, “So, what’s on the agenda tonight? I need about an hour to game, and I know it’s trash night. I finished my homework at school. Anything else?”) Again, at least he’s being conscientious, and I’m learning to say “Yes – be done by 9 so I can have a little time with you and we can do the chalice.” This is more effective than whining, and feels better to me, too, because it is respectful of his approach to things. Even if I feel like whining.
As B prepared for bed tonight, he came bouncing into my room and rocked foot-to-foot as he told me about his evening quest and the team he had put together and the game money he had earned and on what he hoped to spend it. He was so bouncy, that as he left the room to go brush his teeth he couldn’t seem to get his regular gait right, and I laughed and asked him about his “bouncing booty”. He said that he was no longer in charge — that his booty had taken over! I told him that I was glad there was no body-shaming in our household (as he bounced about in his black tightie whities), and he said, “Nope – I own this booty!” The term “booty” is borrowed from my nephew down south – he loves to comment about peoples’ clothes being too tight or too short, and the effects they have on the associated “booties”. This began when he was a toddler, when it was particularly funny. I told B that I should videotape him and send it to M. This ended the booty bounce-a-thon and got him moving forward towards brushing his teeth.
In our few-minutes-after-nine tonight, Mythankfulboy curled up beside me on my bed, where I had been reading. We talked about his day and he asked about mine. He has a close friend who teases him a lot who is out of town for a few days, and he says school is a lot less stressful when he’s gone. He says it’s still worth the friendship, and I can only watch and hope. He talked about another friend who he said “is the most generous kid I know” (isn’t that a great thing for someone to say about you?), but who he worries is being taken advantage of by some people. We discussed ways he could look out for this friend. He said he’s writing an essay on his hero, and he can’t wait for me to read it when it’s done. I asked him for what he was thankful, and he said he was thankful Crossfit was over and he could get back to dodgeball. I said I was thankful for the smell of his sweet noggin. He said, “That’s weird.” Yeah, I think only your momma, and perhaps your daddy, revels in the attachment she feels when she sticks her nose in your hair and breaths deeply. He’ll get that one day.