A fun development of late has been Beckett’s interest in his early days, or as he says, “when I was a kid.”
A nightly routine for us is to chat about his day while he showers. The males of the house still use the outdoor shower, which provides a fun setting for these talks. I always learn a lot from him, including tidbits about his teacher’s family, likes and dislikes of his classmates and why some girls are fun to be around and others not so much. It’s fun to learn about his school life.
Every now and again he will actually ask me questions, most of which have to do with him. Like most 8-year-olds, particularly boys, he’s self-absorbed and lives with blinders on as far as other people.
Was I this funny when I was a kid? When as a kid did I stop liking bananas? When I did starting walking as a kid? When did my first tooth come in as a kid?
I answer these questions and others daily but remind him that he is still a kid. “But I’m a much older kid now and know so much more now,” he always reminds me.
The other night he did surprise me with a random question.
“When as a kid did Mom Mom let you have a cell phone?,” he asked. I was quick to let him know I didn’t get a cell phone till I was out of college. I knew where he was taking this line of questioning.
He wanted to know at what age he could have his own cell phone because many of his friends have one. When I said 16 years old, he was shocked and remarked that we need to talk about this again sometime when I am not being crazy.
A couple times a week, we get a visitor in bed.
Because he’s possibly the heaviest walker/runner ever, Carson doesn’t sneak up on anyone. Before he’s even left his room, I know he’s coming into our bed. That’s when I try and stake my area on the bed.
I never considered myself a light sleeper until my kids came along. Now, according to my FitBit watch, I’m restless upwards of 50 times a night. That’s just life’s worries easing their way into my subconscious I believe. When Carson comes in our bed, the awakenings double.
Not only is he a kicker and slapper while he sleeps, he also makes a lot of noise in bed. That’s ironic, of course, because he’s non-verbal. He’s not speaking words or anything, but it’s clear he’s dreaming about something with the sounds he makes while asleep. Sometimes they are loud cries (which are heartbreaking), while other times they are laughs and giggles.
For the longest time, he always jumped on Pam’s side, forcing her into the middle. Of late, he has been climbing in between us. That’s not working out for either of us, but we don’t have the fight in us in the middle of the night that would be involved with getting him back into his bed.
Consequently, as soon as he’s back asleep, I have now resorted to heading into his room and jumping in his bed. While it’s entirely too small and I can’t extend my legs all the way, it’s at least peaceful.
Even when he’s playing soccer, Beckett is talking.
During a recent game, he made a silly play. A punt from the goalie was coming right to him. I think at the last minute he remembered it’s now a foul to head the ball in youth soccer. As a result, rather than use his chest or another body part to trap it, he reflexively put up his arms over his head to shield the ball from his head. It was an awkward play that embarrassed him.
When the referee made the obvious hand ball call, he did what he does best — the art of deflection, saying, “no, no, that’s an arm ball.”
We all got a good laugh out of that, including the ref.
Monday was a windy morning.
That would have been inconsequential if it weren’t for a school project that was due that day.
Beckett wanted to carry his book report mobile into school by himself. For those who don’t know what it is, imagine a hangar with a dozen notes in the shapes of soccer balls held together by string. It’s a creative way to feature all the requirements associated with a traditional book report.
As luck would have it, as soon as he jumped out of the truck, everything went flying, including one key piece going under the vehicle. It was quickly evident he was going to need my help, which also required Carson coming in since they had the man-up advantage that morning.
There he was walking in with his mobile flying all over the place and pulling his book bag behind him, while Carson was swatting at the items blowing in the wind. By the time we got into his classroom, the mobile was in shambles and he was distraught. We quickly put it back together.
It was Monday morning at 8, and it had already been a long day.
