thebeckybug

Scene 1:
I made cupcakes yesterday afternoon and let 2 young boys do the sprinkles on them. I was cleaning up, the cupcakes had been finished, and I looked over my shoulder.

J6 had half the container of green sprinkles carefully cupped in his hand. Skillfully avoiding spilling any, he attempted to inhale the whole handful. Mid-inhale, I grabbed his hand and effectively spilled it onto the papertowel-plate.

He looked up at me and it was difficult for me to stifle my laughter at the sight of this hulk-like transformation happening around his mouth and hands.

Scene 2:
Not 2 minutes later, the boys are playing in the living room. I hear a cry.

Aside: It’s a skill I have developed, to distinguish between the many cries of the pip-squeak. In .02 seconds I can determine if I need to ignore, mosey, stomp, or dash to the scene of eruption. This was a mosey-worthy cry. A cry of “Come to me, look at me, I did something very wrong and am paying for it with my own blood. Was this really my fault? I didn’t know Action A would cause Pain B. This Pain B hurts so much, I wish I hadn’t done Action A. Come give me ice, a hug, and a bandaid, that should immediately fix the problem. Maybe you could throw in a popsicle, too, for all this suffering. You hear this suffering, right?!”

Enter Scene

J6: (lying on floor, crying for help)

C6: (looking on like ‘what just happened, I was on the other side of the room, and he started doing this, this crying thing. Maybe I can stare at him and magically cure us of his mania-mouth. Oh look, and adult. I will watch.’)

Me: (I mosey in and find no blood and all limbs are still attached in correct places)

J6: (wigging out on the floor)

Me: Hey J6, what happened?

J6: (incoherently) ayeblooomaaahhlehhhhhgg!

Me: (calmly) What? Tell me what just happened so I can understand you.

J6: (incoherently) I broke my LEG!

Me: How did you break your leg?

J6: I ran into the couch!

Me: Did you jump on the couch? Did you fall off the couch?

J6: NO! I just ran into the couch!

Me: Did you kick the couch?

J6: No I just ran in.to. it. REALLY. HARD.

Me: I’m having a hard time understanding. You ran into the couch, and broke your leg?

J6: Yeah! It really hurts. I can’t move or walk.

Me: Wiggle your toes and roll over.

J6: (wiggling his toes, rolls over onto his back)

Me: Nope, leg’s not broken. You might have a bruise, but you take way-worse hits in basketball and football without so much fuss. You’ll be just fine. Get up and let’s do a puzzle.

J6: I can’t get up.

Me: Let me help you. (grabbing his arm, I help him to his feet)

J6: (collapses as soon as I let up on my grip. he becomes blubbering mass of discontentment) I can’t walk!

Me: That’s because you’re upset and pretending to have a broken leg. (C6 and I proceed to dining room to do a puzzle)

2 minutes pass. I look out of the corner of my eye and see J6 get up and walk up the stairs. C6 also sees and makes the following observation:

C6: Hey look! He’s walking! He just wants a broken leg like C5 in our class. He wants to have a cast and be on crutches so for everyone to help him all the time.

(J6 collapses on the stairs mid-climb)

Me: Get up J6 and come help us with this puzzle, or I’m going to have to call C6’s mom to pick him up and take you to the hospital to get shots and surgery.

Would you know it, he came and helped us finish the puzzle.

Scene 3:
In the car yesterday.

Me: What did you do in P.E. today?

J6: Nothing. We learned about the disease, diabetes.

Me: Oh yeah? What did you learn?

J6: Just about it.

Me: Oh I see.

J6: Can I be a East-Walker, instead of a Bus-Rider? Or would I be a West-Walker?

Me: I don’t know. How come? Why don’t you want to ride the bus?

J6: No, I like riding the bus, but I might like to walk, too. Walking is good for you.

Me: It would sure be a long walk…

(silence for a few minutes)

J6: (as if coming to an absolute conclusion regarding the meaning of life) Yeah, riding the bus is good, too, to not get diabetes.