Little boys. They sure do love their mamas. This, in my opinion, is a little boy’s most endearing quality. 

Little boys are simple creatures. But they are also whirlwinds of big adventure. (Thankfully most are easily amused. You can spend an entire hour in the car keeping a little boy entertained armed with nothing but fart jokes.) 

At least once a day, while I hug my little man, it dawns on me. Someday my little boy won’t be so little. Someday he will refuse to snuggle with me. Someday his little motormouth will quiet and he’ll skulk around the house, with peach fuzz sprouting above his lip. Someday he’ll be too embarrassed to walk beside me in public.

But for now, I savor how he happily holds my hand when we cross the street. He’ll kiss me in front of his friends. For now, he wants to marry me. For now, whenever the hubby is out of town, he begs to sleep in my bed — on his daddy’s side. And I happily let him.

There is so much love in a little boy heart. How can you not find that utterly adoreable? How can you not giggle?

How can Seth’s father NOT laugh then shake his head as he jokingly refers to the boy as “young Oedipus”?

(P.S. Earlier this year, Marc’s cousin Amanda found out she had cancer. Being the dynamic rocker chick she is, she’s been trying to give this cancer a badass beatin’.  Recently she has been moved to hospice. Please keep her, her honey, her parents, sister, step-dad and step-sis in your prayers. Please join us in praying for a miracle. Or if you aren’t the praying type please send healthy, healing vibes to Amanda in Arizona. Thanks.)

Last Monday afternoon “the boy’s” kindergarten teacher called to express some concerns about his behavior.

After only one week of school.

The teacher became greatly alarmed over the course of a few days when she tried to get Seth’s attention and couldn’t. She tried calling his name in a louder voice. She even tried clapping. While this got the other kids’ attention, Seth didn’t notice. She asked about his recent hearing test. And I had a conversation with her I’ll probably have with every teacher that crosses Seth’s path. In short? His hearing is fine. He has what I call “selective hearing” — just like his father.

If you are two inches from my hubby’s face and ask him to do something he doesn’t want to do? He chooses not to hear you. I’ve noticed Seth also possess this “amazing” (and by “amazing, I mean, “completely infuriating”) ability to block out what he considers useless information (aka bedtimes, rules, various directives, etc.). And if you try to talk to either one of them while the tv is on? Let’s just say, your time would be better spent talking to an empty fish tank or the sludge that still may be in said fish tank.

So the teacher and I discussed tactics on how to get Seth to listen. I haven’t told her how I’ve tried for years and continue each day. I also didn’t share the fact that I’m tempted to place shock collars on both of them while sleeping. (Being that Marc’s “habit” is more ingrained, I already know what voltage I want to use!**) That might freak her out. But give her a few months. After having this same conversation a fourth or fifth time? Methinks she’ll come around.  

**A modest amount of voltage, like the “funky chicken dance” setting. Ok so maybe that would be considered a TEENY bit more than “modest”.

P.S. Dear DCFS, I’d NEVER really do this to my son. My husband? Well, that’s an entirely different proposition.

P.S.S. THANK YOU to the lovely ladies who gave me their wise input regarding the “second kid conundrum” post. I’ve read your words repeatedly. A decision to have or not to have another child hasn’t been reached because it seems neither decision feels right at this time. (My husband would be happy with one child or more.) So I’ve felt sort of stuck. But thanks to you all, you’ve given me some wonderful guidance, points and counterpoints.)

For years, I swore that on Seth’s first day of kindergarten? You’d find me waiting with him at the bus stop doing a happy dance while drinking margaritas.

As I drove him to school on that first day, I was actually pretty teary-eyed. I left my sunglasses on while inside the school because I’d rather the staff and his teacher think I’m a vampire than know the truth — that I was a sniffling, quivering mess of snot. After dropping him off, I cried then decided I needed ice cream. And lots of it. Yes, ice cream does indeed make everything better. 

Other moms who dropped their kids off didn’t seem to have the waterworks problem. I envied them. So calm. So together. So not red-faced as mascara made tracks down their cheeks.

Seth was ready to let go. He’s been begging to go to kindergarten for two years now. He’s a social little man and is very eager to find his place in his little society. Its just that his mama wasn’t nearly as ready.

But I’m over it now. He’s having fun. He’s learning. For three hours a day, he drives his teacher crazy — not me. (Fifteen hours a week of quiet time! I guess I no longer have an excuse for the mold growing in the master bath’s shower… Course with 15 hours of weekly free time, I could figure out how to turn that junk into penicillin, package it, then develop a marketing campaign. Hmmmm.)

The only question that remains? When will “Tweed” make an appearance in school? Or the on the bus? It will happen soon no doubt. (Shudder.)

But this week has found me thinking an awful lot about some other moms with kiddos entering kindergarten. Hopefully  they’ll post their stories as well. Any more moms with kindergartners? Let me know, I want to lick you! Wait, uh, LINK you!)