Tue 20 Sep 2011
Minor: My school has a secret code!
Me: Really?
Minor: It’s nine dash nineteen dash eleven.
Me: What’s the secret code for?
Minor: They changed it. It used to be nine dash sixteen dash eleven.
Me: I don’t understand. Why is there a secret code?
Husband: I think he’s talking about the date.
Mon 12 Sep 2011
Aitch’s latest obsession is the size of his shoes, a topic he pursues relentlessly: How big they were last year vs. this year. How big they’ll be next year. How they compare to Eamonn’s shoe size, and Timmy’s shoe size, and the kid who is only in third grade but is already a size six, can you believe it, Mom? And, also, tragically, how we’re all conspiring to force him to wear shoes that are too small, and why he really, really needs new and bigger shoes.
Moved by his complaints about blisters, we actually did buy him a second pair of sneakers this summer before we caught on. Since then we’ve had him measured by every shoe salesman in town, and believe me, that kid is a 1, but he insists he’s a 3. We’ve told him very firmly that we won’t entertain the topic of new shoes until Christmas, at which time we’ll have him measured again to see if he’s grown.
He’s pretty sure he’ll be a 4 by then.
Anyway, this weekend, Aitch awoke early; Husband and I were still asleep, Husband in our room, I in the guest room. (We’re not on the outs, but Dog had kicked me out of bed. See here for a description of our nighttime habits.) Aitch was downstairs, amusing himself quietly, but after a half-hour or so he came back upstairs to hand Husband a piece of paper with a word written on it, and he asked what it meant. The word was “Company,” and Husband gave a short if sleepy disquisition on the various meanings of the word. Aitch thanked him and went downstairs.
A few minutes later, Aitch came upstairs with another word: “Province.”
At this point, Husband’s suspicions were aroused, and he went downstairs to find that Aitch had logged on to Reebok.com, selected a pair of shoes (size 3, natch), and started to fill out the order form when he was stumped by the unfamiliar words. I’m thankful that Husband stopped him before he got to the credit card page. We had a long conversation about ordering things on-line (short version: DON’T), and I’m watching the mail carefully for any unexpected items.
Last night, I was reading the boys a story when Aitch pulled up his shirt and, contemplating his abs, said, “I almost have a six-pack like those guys on TV.”
Shoes? Abs? This kid is one character flaw away from landing a role on “The Jersey Shore.”