fun in threes, sometimes fours
the boy
Part of it was laziness, but we’ll chalk it up to Polishness: we finally took down our Christmas tree today. We’d been meaning to do it for a couple of weeks, but we didn’t adequately work it into our schedule.
Or we can use K’s Polishness as an excuse: Poles always put their Christmas trees up later (sometimes, only a couple of days before Christmas) and take them down later.
The Boy and I chopped it up in the afternoon. “This is so satisfying,” he said. For us all, in different ways…
It's a different tournament this year. There are fewer courts this year: five instead of eight. This means fewer teams in the building, so fewer players, fewer parents -- reduced risk, in short.
They won their first two games in straight sets. They didn't have much problem with either team.
As often happens, though, the third team was a different story. Our girls (and single boy -- long story) lost the first set something like 25-22. Not a devastating loss, but a loss nonetheless.
They started the second set strong and before we knew it, our team was up 19-12. "Surely this is a done deal." Nope. They ended up losing 26-24, which means in the second half of the game, they were consistently outscored 2-1.
It's a question of experience, of gelling together as a team. It's only their second tournament, and many of the points they lost were from silly, unforced errors. They'll weed those out with time, with some experience.
And the Boy got his soccer uniform for the spring season.
The Boy loves to spend money. He has a million and one ideas about what he’s going to buy, and it changes from day to day. We protected his first communion money and steered him toward spending it on something useful: a new bike. However, his allowance is a different story.
This week, he decided he wanted to buy a prank kit. He spent $15 on kit that included
Four items that probably cost a total of $2 to make, and he paid $15 for it. K advised him that it was not the best way to spend his money. It was especially ill-advised since the last time he bought a whoopee cushion, it burst the first time he sat on it. (I always thought the idea was that someone else sat on it, but I guess I was wrong.)
Today, at dinner, he had an epiphany: “I wasted that money!” The realization caused great stress, but K reassured him: “If you learned a lesson from it, it’s money well spent.”
The Boy sometimes has trouble getting work done in class. I say “sometimes” but in fact, it’s more like “most of the time.” He’s easily distracted; he takes his time sometimes; he gets off task. The end result is a fairly common occurrence: we spend some time during the evening getting caught up with his work.
We worry about his ability to keep up with things return to “normal” (whatever that might be) and teachers are no longer so very forgiving. We worry that we might hear suggestions of “ADHD” and, more ominously, “medication” from well-meaning, concerned teachers.
I don’t recall ever having any significant issues like this growing up, but I also wasn’t surrounded by electronics and instant gratification. It must put a strain on the attention unlike anything we ever experienced growing up.
He’s improving. He’s thinking in terms of potential. He’s looking at my last move and giving it consideration.
Tonight, he moved his rook to the semi-open file — always a good development strategy in the opening 8-15 moves.
“Why’d you do that?” I asked.
“So I could attack that,” he replied matter-of-factly, pointing at one of my pawns.
“How many defenders does it have?”
“Three.”
“How many attackers?” I enquired further.
“Two.”
“Is it safe to take?”
“Nope.”
I looked over at K. “He’s going to be able to beat you sooner than later,” I said.
“I’m sure,” she smiled.
Then his tummy started hurting — but that’s a different story.
“Tomorrow we go back to normal.” It was a thought in everyone’s mind. Of course, this covid-normal is far from normal, but it has become our new normal: masks, plexiglass, and social distancing while at school. We decided, though, to have one last little hoorah and went to Barnes and Noble for a little shopping. The Boy got a book about Stan Lee comics, in part how to draw them, in part how to conceptualize comics. The latter is a little advanced for him, but he’ll grow into it. The Girl got the newest addition to a couple of series she’s been reading. I thought about getting Bob Woodward’s Rage since it was half-price in hardback, but I’m ready to be done with Trump entirely, so I just let that go.
Afterward, we went to a shoe store for the Boy to get his first pair of Vans. He explained he’d wanted them forever — “My dream shoes!” — but I don’t recall him ever mentioning them. Still, he had the money from Christmas, and we let him choose how to spend it. I wouldn’t have imagined spending my gift money for shoes at his age, but he’s his own person.
On our way out of the shopping center, a young woman stood in the median with a sign proclaiming that she was homeless. I gave her five dollars as we passed her, but I haven’t stopped thinking about her that much since then. She looked to be in her mid-twenties at most, and she appeared relatively healthy, but her shoes, tattered and filthy, told a different story. All evening, on and off, my thoughts returned to her. If she was as young as I conjectured, she’s only about a decade older than L. What would I want for L if she were in such a situation? Obviously and simply, I’d want her to call us and ask for help before she ever got to that situation. Did that young lady have no one to turn to? Was she living in a car she’d parked in one of the vast parking lots of the shopping center? And, of course, there’s the common refrain: was she faking it?
A lot of people don’t give money to beggars because they feel they’ll just waste it. “He’ll just use it to buy booze.” “She’ll just use it to buy drugs.” It’s as if they don’t want to be taken for suckers, to be seen (or to see themselves) as gullible. We’d just spent a fair amount on books, shoes, and volleyball equipment (while the Boy was buying shoes): the five dollars I gave her will not make a dent in our budget. I’d rather be generous but gullible.
A few more pics from K's iPhone.
