Ah Spring

At dinner last month, I told Michael that a woman at work was commenting on his beautiful eyes and wondering if he had a girlfriend. I know that he does not. However, I asked him if he liked any girls. No. Fidget. I asked him if any girls liked him. Yes. Two. Giddy. Giggling. I asked him what are the girls' names. Taylor and Sylvia. More giddiness. More giggling. Now Spencer is laughing too. In the midst of his giggling, Michael offers, "Spring. The season when a young man's fancy turns to love." And so it must be, because the next night at dinner, I discovered that Michael loves Sylvia and Sylvia loves Michael.

Mom Who?

My birthday was last week. The boys wanted to give me pillows. I helped them make the pillows with their portable sewing machine. By the way, I do not sew. When the pillows were completed, Michael asked me, sincerely, to forget that these pillows constituted my birthday gift. It is difficult for me to imagine that a boy as bright as Michael could believe that after spending over an hour helping them sew these pillows (did I mention that I do not know how to sew?), it would be possible for me, over the next two days, to completely forget about it. But maybe I am looking at this from the wrong angle. Perhaps that is exactly how Michael views me. It just may be time (in the interest of preserving the respect the boys still have for me) to stop pretending that I can be fooled this easily.

We went out to dinner for my birthday. It was lovely. The boys gave me the presents (hint: pillows) and homemade cards. In two places on my card from Michael, he wrote "To Mom (Laura)".

It's Got a Great Beat, But....

Spencer put on a new pair of pants this morning. They are denim and apparently a little stiff. He said they were uncomfortable and that they would be horrible pants for Dance Dance Revolution (apparently the standard by which he judges all pants). We have never played that game. Nor, to the best of my knowledge, has he seen anyone play that game. But clearly he has a sense that freedom of movement is essential to success.

Popcorn Rules!

Popcorn is delicious. Obviously. Both the boys and I enjoy it. If we go to the theater, we always order popcorn. Spencer's strong preference is that no popcorn be eaten until the movie, or at least the previews, begins. This is reasonable I think. At home, other guidelines have emerged. Spencer believes popcorn should be eaten one kernel at a time. I do not think that is unreasonable. It is preferable to the handful of popcorn shoveled into the mouth approach. However, I do not care to be reprimanded when I take a handful of popcorn from the bowl, which I then eat one piece at a time. Spencer thinks this is unacceptable because it is harder for him to monitor if I am following the one-at-a-time rule. He does not want to watch me eat popcorn. He wants to watch the movie. To counter what he apparently sees as my all-too-quick consumption of the popcorn, he periodically, probably once or twice before all of the popcorn is gone, removes the bowl of popcorn, places it out of reach, and declares "it is time for a break."