Little m Long a

No, Zella. There was no horse.

It was a wagon.

Filled with hay.

Being pulled by a tractor.

Oh. Right.

It was fun!!

(An excerpt from a conversation with the kids on the way to school not long ago.)

Why is that truck always there?

It’s been there for years, guys.  Why does it seem to be bothering you now?

It’s ugly.

Why don’t they move it?

I kind of like it.

I don’t know why they never move it.  Maybe  it broke down and they can’t.  Maybe they don’t have any other place to move it.  Maybe they do move it but you never pass by here when it’s gone.

Yeah, like it only moves at midnight and the only ones that get to see it gone are the bats.

Well, I don’t like it.

Maybe it has moved.  Maybe, it’s not even there.  Yeah, you’re just so used to seeing it there that your mind is making you believe that it’s still there when in all actuality, it’s been gone for quite a while.

Dad, I don’t think so.

How can you be so sure?

Because we can see it!

You can’t always trust your eyes.  Your brain is telling you it should be there because it always has been so your eyes believe they are seeing it because your brain told them to.

Dad!

Seriously, your brain plays terrible tricks on you.  It’s probably not even there.

Really?

The only real way to tell is to run into it.  Full on.  Just run all out face first into the side of the thing.

(And almost without hesitation Zella finally joins the conversation)

Zia goes first!

With the beginning of school just over a week away, the list of things we need to get done on any particular day seems to be growing exponentially longer.  It makes the last week of a relaxing summer vacation anything but.  It seems we’re on the go with purpose almost every day.  As such, that often means we’re eating on the go as well.  The other day we hit one of our favorites, a dive hamburger joint downtown.

It’s old school, with counter seating throughout.  Old time diner stools that may or may not swivel and roughly enough seating for thirty people — tops.  There’s no concerted effort to pull off the nostalgic look — it’s truly old!  Typical diner food with daily specials, breakfast anytime and fresh homemade pies varying according to the owner’s whim.  And the milkshakes.  Intoxicating!!

The last time we were there was on a family movie night.  I’d taken the kids to that new Harry Potter flick and we stopped by the diner afterwards for a bite.  As is the norm, when you enter any type of establishment with five kids in tow you garner a bit of attention.  The waitress was talkative, much to her detriment, for in a matter of minutes Zella had revealed the entire story of the movie, which of course the waitress had yet to see.  Saved her 7 bucks.

We found ourselves back at the diner this past weekend taking a break between needing to be here or there.  The waitress was there and though not serving us stopped by to talk to the kids.

“So what have you guys been up to today?”

“Well,”  started Zoë.  ”It’s been pretty busy.  I had a soccer game this morning and we bought our school clothes.  Oh, but before all that we had to do Simple Solutions.”

The waitress gave me a puzzled look.  I explained that Simple Solutions were the workbooks the kids complete in order to stay sharp during the summer break from school.  They are a review of the lessons and concepts learned during the past school year.  It’s encouraged by the school and essentially enables the students to begin the school year where they left off the previous one.  As opposed to spending the first quarter reviewing and relearning the things they already should know but forgot over the summer.

“It’s like homework,” Zoë said.

“Yeah, homework.  During the summer!” added Zia.

The waitress looked at me — shocked and then back to the kids.

“Really?” she asked.

To which Zane replied, “Yeah.  Welcome to my world.”

(I make no apologies for having my kids do schoolwork during summer break.)

“Zoë and Zane, did Mommy sign your agenda?”

Fair question and simple enough I thought.  Zoë and Zane are both required to keep an agenda for school that essentially lists what homework assignments are due, what tests are coming up, etc. etc.  Our job as parents is to match what the kids have written in their agendas with what the teachers have listed on the school website taking into account that there may have been additions or omissions based purely on whatever the kids say.

It’s also a handy place to correspond with the kids’ teachers.  We sign the agenda nightly and as does the teacher.  Well, we’re supposed to sign it nightly.  I have a tendency to forget.  Maura doesn’t.  And as she had been helping the kids with their homework I assumed she had signed the agendas but wanted to make sure.

“Yep!” “Yes!” they both responded.

Zander, looking puzzled, stopped eating his cereal and put down his spoon.  “But Zane is a boy,” he eventually offered.

“Yes he is Zander.  What does that have to do with anything?”

“He doesn’t have an agenda.  Boys don’t have agendas.”

“What?”

And then it hit me.

“Agenda, Zander.  A — GEN — DA.  Not vagina!”

“Ohhhh!!  That makes more sense.”

The confusion cleared he then happily returned to his cereal leaving me to wonder what other oddness fills that tiny head.

Pondering

So I’m driving the kids home from school the other day.  We’d finished our usual “How was your day?” and “So what did you learn?” yada, yada.. routine and were driving along in silence.  Zoë had her head in a book, Zane was staring out of the window and for once, Zia and the twins had elected to forgo their typical afterschool backseat battles and were riding along peacefully.

It was almost eerie.

My mind began to wander, as it often does, to the things I needed to do when we arrived back home.  To things that have little or no significance.  To just things.

I flitted my way from thought to thought, not spending too great a time on any.

“The check,” I thought.  And then audibly, “Did I remember to…” and then back to silence.

But before I had even completed the sequence in my head Zane blurted out, “write the check to Mr. M for Zoë’s tutoring?  Yes, you did.”

A shiver went up my spine and I nearly ran off the road.

“Zane, how in the world did you know that was what I was thinking??”

“Oh.  I can read minds,” he said as nonchalantly as if he were stating that the sky is blue.

“That is just freaky!”  And then I added, ” Maybe we should go get a lottery ticket.”

“Dad,  I said I can read minds — not predict the future.  Seriously!”

“Little smartass!!”  I silently thought, keeping the words to myself.  Though when I checked the rear view mirror and noted the Cheshire Cat grin on his face, I’m not so sure.