G was invited to play at a (NT) friend’s house after their meet & greet morning in kindergarten class this morning. His buddy wanted to ride in our car with G, so I listened with curiosity to hear what they’d talk about after meeting so many kids and getting acquainted with their teacher and classroom. As we buckled up I asked, “How did you like your first day? Did you see lots of kids you know? What toy did you like best?” They both gave short one word answers. The boys then got engrossed in G’s cars and small toy assortment littering my mamavan floor.
Despite everyone’s efforts to de-clutter family taxi, we NEED objets d’art (the finest art - of distraction!) for G. I’ve tried many organization methods, but nothing really works well. (feel free to share inexpensive ideas). When my other 2 kids were younger, we had a wonderful system. But G’s a different kid and I’m way more harried. I usually help him pack a backpack with small items/books to keep in the car and change about once a week to keep his interest. But G never seems to put all of them back – he hides them behind/under his seat or in cupholders. But hey, who am I kidding, the toys are really for us. Anything that keeps him busy and happy or distracts him when upset is good for the other passengers. Lord help us the day his ailing, thrice cracked ipod touch finally bites the dust. A piercing wail will be heard in several counties (me), and who knows how G will react. The loss of a power cord/charger - or worse, his iTouch - is declared a family emergency. But, I digress. Soooooo…
K asks G, “What’s that thing?” So I peeked in my rear mirror. G had a Bath and Body Works Peace Sign ScentPortable that we keep clipped in the back seat. G, in his teacher voice…
“This is for when someone FARTS. You hold it up to your nose and smell - real quick…like this,” he explained, demonstrating dramatically.
“Here, you try it now,” as G waved it around K’s nose.
“Oh.” K replied. Conversation over.
I prepared to be mortified if G decided to fully demonstrate their fresh effectiveness by “ripping one”, in the charming terminology used by my 12 year old. I’m relieved to tell he didn’t. The moment passed and they went back to zooming the cars around.
Boys will be boys. Peace Out, Dudes!