Little m Long a

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.

“I want to read this book!”  Zander emphatically stated his position to Maura.  “How do you read?”

“Well, Zander.  You have to sound out the letters and put them together.  Ask your brother Zane how he learned to read.”

“Zane, how did you read?” he asked in his most innocent little boy voice.

“Uhm.  Well.. you just…”

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So we’re in the car yesterday, as we often are,  and we’re having a conversation, as we often do.  I’m not quite sure where the conversation turned or how it got here, but it did.

Maura expressed her deep love of all things football.  I echoed my fondness and Zane chimed in as well.  Then Zoë spoke up,

“Well, I don’t like football.  I thinks it’s dumb.”

In horror, he may have even shrieked, Zane said, “Anyone who doesn’t like football will have to leave the family.”

To which Zoë nonchalantly replied, “I don’t care.”

Without missing a beat, Zane shot back at her, “Fine!  Best of luck at the orphanage, Zoë.  I hope they have good gruel.”

I stepped on a moonbeam at the top of the stairs last night.  The damn thing nearly tripped me.  Funny thing, moonbeams.

That actually has nothing to do with anything but for some reason I felt it needed sharing.  My world seems to be spinning at an alarmingly fast pace as of late.  Not out of control, mind you, just faster.   I’m struggling to keep pace fearful that I’m going to miss something important or at the very least fail to recognize that something significant is happening.

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Zane’s science teacher stopped me in the lunchroom yesterday, said she just had to let me know about what he had said in class.

“Oh Lord,” I audibly muttered.

Seems the discussion of the day involved something about adequate fluid intake.  The teacher had asked the class, “does anyone know what it is to be dehydrated?”

My mind immediately flashed to a morning just a few weeks earlier.  I had just picked up Zia and the twins from their morning classes and was loading them into the car.  I was literally standing in the parking lot–mere feet from the schoolhouse door when my cell phone rang.

It was the school nurse who was calling to let me know that Zane was in quite a bit of discomfort and I should probably come and get him.  Seems he was constipated.  (The problem was immediately resolved upon arriving home for in the comfort of familiar facilities he was able to rid himself of the offending load.  Yeah, I checked my kid out of school so he could go home and poop!))

Anyway, Zane and I had a long discussion about making sure he drinks plenty of water and keeps himself  adequately hydrated so that this doesn’t happen again.

So when the teacher asked if anyone knew what it was to be dehydrated I just knew Zane would be regaling the class with his tale of the reluctant turtle.  I suppose I was a little bit relieved when she said Zane had immediately piped up and said, “I’m not for sure.  But I know your pee gets real yellow.  And orange!”