Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Closets and cows.

Often I don't write because I suspect and fear (those are not the same thing) that everything has already been said.

But verily I say unto thee: This shit is new and true.

I discovered my six-year old, the Chinese one (whose "stomach had shivers" when he rode his first roller coaster the other day), bawling recently. I walked upstairs to finish cooking dinner and I heard him. I thought he was being scolded by his father (because it was his deeply shameful and remorseful cry I recognized) and I decided not to interfere. But after five minutes with no improvement and imminent vomit, I couldn't resist seeing what the commotion was about (notice my impressive five-minute wait time. This is the result of therapy folks.) He was not with his dad after all. He was in his closet. With the door closed. When I opened it and leaned in he looked up at me with that face. That one. And I asked him what was wrong. But he couldn't talk through his tears (and slobber and drule), so I waited. I asked him to come out of the closet (save the gay jokes here) and he wouldn't. So I had to climb in. I was impatient. It was hot in there. And he was messy. And I was cooking dinner. And the dog needed to pee. Finally, after I asked him 50 times what was wrong, he screamed through his violent throbs: "I don't want to be 30!"

His friend, also six, learned recently about "girl parts" and after teaching him the proper terminology, his mother caught him in the kitchen repeating in slow whispers: "vagina, vagina, vagina." She gently inquired the reason, and he claimed that he "did not want to forget what it is called." Now that, my friends, will be a good husband someday.

My nine-year-old had a few friends over after school recently. They are too young to realize that when they speak outside of an open window, the person inside can hear them. Or maybe they don't care. I wasn't spying. I swear. Just because I was inverted behind the curtain in a fetal position does not make me a spy.

Here's what I caught:

"Duuuude, Frank's mom said that moms get to choose whether babies come out of their stomach or their butt"...."Ooooooohhhhh. Gross."..... "another hole"..... "gross"..... "Nick said that parents...."..... "holes"... "naked"...."Parents have to really be in love and kiss like at least every two minutes....".... "gross!"... "I'm glad I'm not a cow... I think it's mean that people pull on their penises all the time."

The last comment was made while consuming a glass of milk.

And I'm listening to some new great tune (thanks Nate!) Let me practice some prophecy here:
If you have not heard of The Head and The Heart, you will. Soon. Go buy their new album. Now.
Here's a bit of a recent song that has spoken to me the past few days:
"...our friends will be gone away...nothing is as it has been...I miss your face like hell, but I guess it's just as well...My family lives in a different state, if you don't know what to think of it, then we will not relate."