10/08. Ben said last week: “Mommy, when we let Simon (our cat) outside in the winter, did he go out there and have a snowball fight with a bird?”
Sept. 24th, 2011
Yesterday evening Ben and I were driving past the movie theater in our town and I said, “Ben, how about if we go to the movies?” He only likes to watch movies at home–the movie theaters are too loud for him and he sits holding his ears until we leave. So, as I imagined he would, he said no. “Well,” I said. “How about if we go to a different kind of movie…a movie for grown ups…about love…a movie that’s quiet.” He looked at me from the passenger seat with a big smile on his face and said, “A movie about love? That sounds like a kid’s movie!”
When the first plane hit the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001, like many people, I thought it was an accident. Jeff was on his way into the city, and he called from the train. My mom (who had been staying with us for three weeks since Ben was born) answered the phone. “Turn on the news,” Jeff said.
We did, and we watched for a little bit. I saw the flames but, in my mind, I was thinking it was going to be similar to the story about when the plane hit the Empire State Building long ago. A tragedy, yes, but at that point they were saying it was a twin-engine plane, and for some reason I assumed the building was basically empty. It was just too early in the morning for many people to be in there. Geez, I hope the pilot got out okay, I thought. Total denial.
My mom was getting laundry ready to take to the laundromat, and she had the basket in her arms. We were talking about something. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a fireball on the TV screen.
“Wow, I just saw a fireball or something,” I said.
Yesterday I slept late. Ben came in and stood by the bed and said, “I asked my 8 Ball if I’m going to get breakfast this morning and my 8 Ball said, ‘Don’t count on it’.”
“Mommy I don’t want to go to school tomorrow. I didn’t come to this planet to learn. I just came here to take a look at everything again.” Ben–age 6
Yesterday I attended a chick-hatching breakfast in Ben’s class. All of us moms brought muffins and juice and we looked at the baby chicks that had hatched a few weeks earlier and were chirping in a pen in the corner of the room. The kids took turns showing the moms and dads all the writing and journaling and picture-taking the class had done which chronicled the journey from eggs to the now full grown chicks that are to be taken to a farm on a field trip scheduled for Monday.
Ben is not the most physically demonstrative child, in fact sometimes when I hug him, he responds by telling me that he would like to get a “Do Not Disturb” sign taped to his forehead. Continue reading
You may have noticed that many of these posts are from when Ben was younger and that I skip around….it’s because I didn’t know how to blog when I was writing them but don’t want them to continue to sit in my drawer.
This is from when Ben was 4 and a half.
Ben had woken up sick in the middle of the night and was now recovering. I stayed home from work to be with him, and he had been sleeping all morning. I poked my head into his room and saw that his eyes were open, so I went over to his bed and sat down next to him. I put my hand on his head. He no longer had a fever, but he seemed weak and he was quiet.
“Are you feeling better, sweetie?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said, but his eyes looked sad. “Why did I throw up?”
“I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe you ate something bad or you had a little virus.”
Just then Simon jumped on the bed and curled up our feet.
“I want Simon to be my kitty when I grow up,” Ben said.
“Well,” I said. “Kitties don’t live that long. And Simon is already really old.”
Ben stared at Simon. “You mean Simon is going to die?” he asked. Continue reading