I like to think it’s just a young boy thing, but it amazes me how absentminded our 8-year-old can be at times.
He forgets everything that he views as inconsequential but can remember the minute mark of Ronaldo’s goal from a game three weeks ago. Clearly, what’s important to him doesn’t jive with his parents’ priorities.
For example, Beckett takes a reusable drink bottle to school every day. Most of the time it doesn’t make it home. Because he kept forgetting to bring them home a month ago and we only have a handful of them, I walked him into school one day to retrieve them. He was mortified but I left with five bottles that day.
Another example involved soccer practice the other night. After we got back to the car, I asked him about his bag with his water bottle and ball. That touched off a silly conversation about how I should have gotten it since I’m the responsible one in the family. After my refusal to just let the bag stay there for a few days until we were back that weekend as he recommended, we both ran back to retrieve it. I compromised because I could use the exercise.
Another example involved his jacket at school. Despite constant reminders, he day in and day out left the jacket. He did the same with a pair of shoes for about a week. He’s forgetful when it comes to what he doesn’t deem important.
I think it’s just a young boy transition thing. They seem to be inherently careless and irresponsible while also craving independence. They have tunnel vision and typically only care about what’s on their mind at that moment.
That’s what I was thinking the other day when I got home from work and saw Beckett’s toothbrush with toothpaste still on it from that morning. He always forgets because it’s not important to him.
When he got back from karate that night, I was ready to ask him about it when he gave me a handful of baseball cards. I asked what that was about and he said, “I remembered you used to collect cards when you were my age so I thought you might like to do it again.”
Speaking of absentmindedness, I forgot all about the tooth paste thing at that point. Maybe he’s learned it from me.
Of all our sons’ many differences, the biggest one is probably their views on being in the spotlight.
Beckett relishes it. By being his boisterous self, he typically commands (or maybe demands) attention. He’s inquisitive and observant and can start and carry on a conversation with people of all ages.
On the opposite extreme is Carson, who has an aversion to the limelight. That was on display twice last weekend.
First, during an end-of-season soccer gathering, his fellow players and coaches sang happy birthday to him. It just happened to occur at a time when Pam was doing something with the cupcakes and I was across the table taking a video of him.
He was literally panicking over being the center of attention and was trying to grab anyone to come sit next to him or with him to ensure not all eyes were on him at the same time. Eventually, he found a willing participant and the look of awkwardness was gone from his face.
Later in church the next morning, this shyness was evident again when it came time to put coins in the birthday cake. The idea here is the person puts coins in the fake cake signifying his or her age and the congregation sings to him. He dragged me up there with him and buried his head in my neck and chest the whole time.
When it’s Beckett’s turn in May, he would, if he could, give a little speech reflecting how his birthday was and talk about his favorite gift.
It’s funny how life has a way of balancing out and in our family our two children on opposite sides of the extrovert and introvert scale confirms that.
Over the course of the last week, Carson has reminded me nightly about the dangers of procrastination.
Although it’s been a couple weeks since Halloween, it typically takes us a long time to put away all the decorations. This is because I am a procrastinator about these sorts of things since it involves multiple trips to the attic.
As a result, a lot of the skeletons and spooky masks and costumes have been gathered in our master bathroom waiting for the man of the house to finally take them upstairs.
It’s one of those out of sight, out of mind things. That’s until Carson makes his routine middle of the night bathroom breaks. He’s pretty much like clockwork. Around 2 a.m., he will get out of bed and go to the bathroom and usually ends up in our bed.
Throughout this week, he has been running into the bathroom and screaming and crying. Apparently, the sight of multiple skeletons wearing scary masks in the middle of the night bothers the little fella.
