"Not a Normal Mom"

Mal came to me last week and said, "I'm glad you're not a normal mom."

Since I'm sure this is true on many levels, I wanted some specification. "What do you mean 'normal'?"

He said, "Like most moms are mean to their kids."

Okay, I got it. It's taken him six and a half years, but he realizes that we don't punish him.

I said, "Most moms aren't being mean to their kids; moms might punish their kids because they think it will help them be better people. Like, if they feel like their kid is using the computer too much, or used it without permission, they might take it away for a while so their kid will think about it more next time."

He said, "Yeah. I'm glad you're not like that."

Now TOTALLY changing the subject... on the Hidden Brain podcast this week, a guess was talking about the "comedy cliff," wherein at about the age of 23, people stop engaging in humor as frequently as they did when they were kids. One way this was determined was by asking survey respondents: "Did you laugh yesterday?" Almost all children answer yes (and most young kids laugh something like 400 times a day, and adults less than 20). Many adults answer no, until the age of 70, when I guess we start loosening up again.

I told James that those adults must not have kids like Mal.

He makes us laugh literally every single day, many times over.

One of the things I miss about our house in Sherman was the giant dining room we didn't use because there was just plenty of room at the bar in the kitchen... I mean, we have room at our bar here, too, but in Sherman, the seats faced each other because of how the bar was shaped. Here, we'd just be awkwardly facing the kitchen, like we did in the apartment.

Anyway, since we don't have a dedicated "homeschool desk," one of our repeated challenges is that Mal likes to get out his blocks and LEGO bricks and play sets on the kitchen table, and he wants to leave them out to play with "tomorrow." And the next day. And the next. And after a while, I just want to sit down to eat without having to shuffle small bits of plastic.

Yesterday was Day Three of Minecraft LEGOs on the table, and I'd told Mal I wanted to move the sets over to the coffee table. When I started, Mal followed me around, bringing the sets back to the table.

Later in the day, James was eating lunch while Mal was in our bedroom closet watching videos. As James and I chatted, I quietly moved things over to the coffee table. I figured that if I could get everything moved over, then Mal would be too overwhelmed to move it back. I was successful, and James and I continued our conversation. About five minutes later, Mal came into the room to show us something, and just said in a dead pan, "You monster."

He cracks me up every day. That's good, because he is also by turns demanding and emotionally exhausting. And his humor and mostly good nature goes a long way in injecting much-needed energy into the environment.