I was talking to Tim last night at bedtime. It was a very emotional conversation about what goes on at recess. Tim's best friend moved last year, basically dissolving the club they had together. It has now come to light that this club was called "The Bomb Club." You can guess how thrilled Tom and I were to hear it. The whole thing was pretty innocent--they pretended to blow up inanimate object like rocks and trees--but they might as well have called it the "Please Suspend Me Club." This would have been a sleeping dog except that Tim revived the club this year with a group of extremely impulsive and intense little second grade boys. The result has been trouble. Tom and I have been trying to get him to dissolve or at least rename the club (The Demolition Club?) but he has stubbornly refused. Tearfully, he told me that it was his last link to his best friend and no matter what he would keep the memory alive.
Anyway, last night I was taking another crack at it, which lead to a tortuous discussion of all the ins and outs of second grade male playground culture. I was asking him about different kids, including one I've never met named Justin.
Mom: How about Justin? Are you friends?
Tim: Nah. I never was much friends with Justin. He's all about the army. Me, I'd like a quiet life in a room full of gizmos and gadgets, inventing, while he's using my greatest inventions in the field of battle.
You think I'm embellishing this, but I swear I'm not. I had to break off the conversation to run out of the room and write down what he said word for word.
PS--Are the words in this post going to get my blog monitored? Will I end up on the no-fly list like Colin? I think I'm going to post anyway, which should convince you all of how much I love you.
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3 comments:
This conversation is more evidence of why you were chosen to mother Tim. No one else would be able to do it successfully, never mind be able to enlighten us all by writing about it. However, lead is a heavy metal.
Yup, she never can resist... Someday you should author a book about what its like to raise the Yogi Berra of kids (though I suppose Yogi only had memorable quotes, not the eccentricities.
No fly list? "I am on the no get back into the country list". They even copied my passport this time. Darn soil smuggler.
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