From Nat's Brain

Here's to you...

The three of us we snuggled up on the couch last night, watching Eragon. We were all pretty darned tired. So the snuggle time was a welcome part of the day. It'd been a good day, early morning to find Franktown where The Boy has a PB 1K, and a had PB 15K (it's the time I've raced that distance.) Then we went to the Park up the road where we celebrated the Tulip Festival. Today we'll hit Artspark. (I love this neighbourhood.)

It's quite the fun little family unit we have here. I always knew I would love my child. But you know, I really like him as well. He's a laid back roll with it sort of kid, who is not afraid to throw his arms around you and tell you he loves you. Lately, he's begun teasing us back. "Mom, you know that's bad parenting." (I was making sure he was brushing his teeth.) Cheeky monkey. (Sometime you get mooned when you tell him that.) And he is really excited about the road trip this August. We'll explore the world. Take it on together. And I know it won't always be like this.

So for mothers' day, I'm going to spend some time with The Boy and The Man and enjoy to wonder that is family life.

There is a light and it never goes out

As per usual, we were running late listening to the first few minutes of The Current on CBC Radio 1 on Tuesday.

The Boy is being awfully quiet in the back , and I'm listening for any massive traffic snarls. Half day-dreaming about calling in sick and going back to bed. The ride to school isn't long. I am only half listening to the radio, bored, and considering about popping the iPod on. The voice from the back startles me.

"Mom, what's the Olympic Torch?"

"Well, it's a torch the light in Greece to symbolize the first Olympic games." I'm not really up on my torch knowledge to be honest. "They light it in Greece and zap it to wherever it needs to go then run it into the stadium Beijing where they games are being held."

"So why are they protesting the torch?"

"Well, the Olympics this year are supposed to be held in China. And the Chinese government is really not nice to the people who live there. They don't have a lot of the freedoms we have here. Like the rigth to disagree with the government. And they are really rather mean. " Seven year old's undertand mean. Then I tried to explain the situation in Tibet in seven-year old terms. (Pretty sure he knows all this and just asks to make my life difficult.)

He reminds of me at this age. He just doesn't get why people have to be mean to others. At seven, the things are either fair or they are not. Like Mom saying he can't stay up until 9:00 on a school night. Injustice is a bit nearer and dearer to his heart. He's a bit gentle giant my kid, seems to him that everyone should have every thing they need. (Of course, in his mind that means white chocolate ad nauseum and a total ban on all green vegetables.) He's right they should,(the little socialist said.) Unfortunately, the world's not like that. But it did get me thinking about the Olympics, China, and all that.

Politics and the Olympics go way back, and it's baffling that the IOC would ochose to hold the event in China -- where politics and protest just seem to be asking for a fight. (I wonder what the incentive was.) A place where the folks in power fundamentally see no need to change. A place  where they seem to me, a bit baffled by all this uproar over Tibet over human right. I have vision of some senior communist party official getting a little perturbed. You know on the inside -- never let them see you sweat.

"What do you mean, people want web access to news sites?  Unblock CBC and the  BBC websites"

"What do you mean the runners don't want to run in Beijing because of pollution? Tell them we've handled it."

"What do you mean our men in blue can't kill protesters? Why don't they get out the tanks?"

I think it was sadly inevitable that by awarding the Olympics to China, the games themselves would be used as a springboard for protest. Whether the IOC or Chinese officials admit it. I do however remain cynical as to whether this will change anything in the long run in China. But as The Boy will be quick to point out, what's happening in China is not fair. And it's up to us to make sure they know it.

La complainte du Phoque en Alaska*

There comes a point in every parents life when you realize that perhaps you child has picked up some interesting character traits from you, you hope it's the good traits. (i.e. helping people, sharing of the toys, giving to those less fortunate, etc. etc.)

Curiosity is good thing. At the age 18-months or so. The Boy was curious about the world around him. He like to stick everything in his month,. Everything that is except for peas which he decided best belonged up his nose. Calmly, matter-of-factly, he decided to take the peas and ooop! there they went. One of the funniest things I have ever seen. As far as we know, this is the only substance that has gone up his nose in this fashion. Let's hope it stays that way.

He is working on humour and what makes us laugh. Since he was four, The Boy has been working on his stand up routine. There are hits. "Mom, you want to hear a construction joke?" "Sure," says I. "You can't I'm still working on it." And the misses. "Knock knock" "Who's there?" "Captain Hooks Underwear" (Which rhymes and has underwear, I am sure it kills at recess.) The Man and I are claiming full responsibility for this. (If he makes money at this I would also like 10 per cent. Labour has got to be worth something.)

But there are other things he has learned as well that aren't so endearing. I like to swear and The Man likes to swear more. And as hard as we try from time to time, inevitably the odd f-bomb drops. And we like to think he doesn't notice. For the most part, he humours us in this belief.

This week's digraph in French is "qu" pronounced "k" -- in English it's pronounced "kw". (So the province is Quebec (kaybek) not Kweebek.) The Boy is still a bit slow to read -- much progress so far though. Hence the first we do is go through the spelling list. We are going down the word sentence list "Le phoque est sur le glacier" (The seal is on the glacier.)

He reads the word. Pauses. I see a glimmer in his eyes. Mischief. His dad does the same thing.
"Do you know what a phoque is?" I say.
"Yeah, it's the word for seal. Arf Arf."
But he's got this smirk like he is just getting away with something very naughty indeed.
"Phoque" he says. "Mom, you know... "
We know where this is going don't we....
"... that the French word for seal sounds a lot like the swear you and dad like to use."
"That is does, so you can use it in French when you mean seal."
Score 1 -- The Boy (The schoolyard suddenly became a LOT more French.)

____
*Complaint of the Alaskan seal -- French Canadian classic by the band Beau Dommage. Basically the story of a seal whose girlfriend leaves him in order to go work in the circus. As a child, I took this at face value. These guys were pretty famous at the time, and I don't think that it's a coincidence that they chose the seal as the animal of choice... just saying.

The day the lights went out in O-town

The Boy crawled in to bed with me early this morning. It's an unusual occurence of late, since he's discovered how get to his favourite websites. So much so, that we instituted the seven o'clock rule. No screens until 7 a.m., and it's been pretty good since he is now sleeping in until 7:30-ish.

But, when he crawled into the bed with me at 6:37 a.m., I really thought he was just feeling snuggly. I must admit, that the boy did seem a bit freaked out. "Hey little man, what's up?" I said groggily. "Well, the computer won't work and the lights won't turn on, I think something happened when I touched the computer. I think I broke the house." "Come snuggle and be quiet, it's not morning yet."

Mornings, pre-coffee are not the best time for me. I did, in fact know it was morning. But at precise moment, I was busy wondering why (1) the house was so quiet and dark and (2) why the iHome (The Man's alarm clock) was buzzing instead of playing the next verse of the Springsteen song he had programmed to come on. So it took a second of whacking the alarm on my side of the bed to make it be quiet, and whacking the man's alarm, cursing that I would have to get up and face the world, to realize what the child was telling me.

"Hon. Did you say none of the lights work?" "Yeah mom and the computer isn't working either." (Child has his priorities.)

(He denies this but I suspect he'd been playing on the computer when *pop* no more power. The child is far to afraid of the dark to make it down the hall to the computer room without lights. And he was definitely had the guilty broke *something* look. Moms know shit like this.)

Now, it is the dead of winter and night stays until about 7:15ish. In fact, I have been known to use the "but it's night out," thing until noon on dark days. It doesn't work now that he can read. It is occuring to me that there is a bigger issue at play.

I reach over and try to turn on the nightside lamp. Nothing. Shit. Power is out (both our alarms have battery backups -- remind me to take them out.)
"Big Man, the power is out. And well, no lights, no computer and no coffee."
"What do you mean the power is out?"
"Well, sometimes, there are problems. I am going to look outside and make sure it's the street and not just us. "
"But, I just touched the computer!"
"Oh sweetie! You didn't cause this."
He looks not sure if he should believe me.

With The Boy (still afraid of the dark) following very closely behind me, I grab the wind-up lantern from his room and look out the window down the street. Darkness. Sure enough. So I offer him some apple juice (it's like JD for the pre-teen set) and a blueberry muffin. Wind up the lantern hold it up so I can find a lighter. Get a candle going. Get him some paper and colouring stuff. He sits by candlelight making a drawing. "My creepy house" it's called. Too cute. He wasn't sure about this dark thing. We went back up to my room after a bit to snuggle and chat waiting for the sun to come up.

And while we were late for both school and work, those 45 minutes were the best part of the day.