Tag: the boy

“You always yell at us,” said the boy to his father.

“You think I always yell at you?” the father replied.

“Well, sometimes.” The boy was a little less sure upon cross examination.

Rather than belabor he point, the father opted for a different path. “Why do I yell at you?” he asked.

The boy hesitated, perhaps sensing there was a right answer and a not-so-right answer, perhaps actually trying to think of a good answer. Finally, he half-stated and half-asked “Because we don’t listen…” His voice trailed off at the end.

“Mmm,” the father intoned. “So what would be a logical way to not have me yell at you?” he continued.

The boy replied “By listening more…?”

When last I spoke of the boy (what, a couple days ago?) he had plans for world domination by raking yards. Alright, I exaggerate; but he definitely had his sites set on a DS game where he could conquer the world. So I didn’t exaggerate by much…

The Wife had a cagey idea to give him a better idea of what he was getting himself into. She hired him to rake the leaves in our yard. In this case, he didn’t even have to bag anything, merely rake them to the sides and into the woods. She offered to pay him $20 for the work, but he had to do it to her satisfaction.

So the boy went outside to start his work. At the time, I was working on my post from earlier, so he was on his own for the most part.

Sadly, 20 minutes later, it was over.

He came storming into the house, in tears, and went stomping up to his room. I went to check out his progress and he had not made a lot. The Wife had missed the histrionics, and was wondering where he was. She’s the one who went upstairs to find out what had happened. At that point, I actually thought he’d broken the rake and thought he was in trouble.

The Wife came back downstairs and it was clear that he had underestimated the time and work involved. He was upset because he realized this, and with that understanding he decided he couldn’t (or didn’t want to) rake yards. So there would be no DS games or other stuff to get with all that money he’d already made plans for.

I suppose when looked at from that standpoint, it’s understandable why he was so upset.

One thing that the boy seems to have firmly grasped is the concept of money. He still doesn’t really know how to value it. For instance, he wouldn’t know if a dozen eggs for $5 was a good deal or not. But he’s pretty clearly figured out that money is a key to other things. Like getting other things.

For awhile, he seemed to have the notion that money was “free.” That’s probably because he sees the Wife and I make purchases and just hadn’t made the connection about the Wife’s work. More charitably, its possible he just figured we were getting a prize or something.

But lately, he’s realized that money has to be earned. Part of this is almost certainly due to his popcorn fundraiser for Cub Scouts. I organize “Show and Sells” at local businesses whom are kind enough to let the boys pester their customers on the way in (or out) of their store. The Scouts ask people if they’d like to purchase popcorn to support Scouting. It’s not exactly back breaking work, but it is work and, to their credit, the Scouts do an admirable job of getting people’s attention.

Another portion of the Scout fundraiser is door-to-door selling. I haven’t been able to take him around yet, but I plan to. Again, to his credit, he’s been pestering me to take him out to do so. Time and circumstances have, so far, conspired against me.

But the combination has, I think led him to another idea. He wants to rake leaves for some of the neighbors. He’s been trying to figure out how much to charge them by asking me how much I thought it was worth. I could only go based on what I might be willing to pay someone to rake out yard, which I figure is probably around $15-$20, depending on my mood. But then I tried to explain that he might need to look at a yard before making that decision- a big yard with more trees would likely be worth more than a smaller one.

His logistics aside, it almost certainly puts me on the hook as well, since he can’t get anywhere without some supervision. Also, frankly, he’ll need some backup to finish these yards that he’s been eyeing up for the past week or so. I’ve told him that I’d take him to a house to let him try, so I’m on the hook for that. Then we’ll see what its worth to him.

I picked up the kids at school today and it was obvious something was bothering the boy. Probably had a lot to do with the taciturn demeanor and the glum expression on his face. Whatever it was, it seemed to be affecting the lass as well since she was just as quiet. I tried to pry something out of him, but he was clammed up tight. So I didn’t bother pushing.

After we’d arrived at the house, both kids went up to their rooms. The Wife came down after several minutes and informed me that the boy had opened up to her. Apparently, the boy had sat down with his teacher to gone over a worksheet with her. The teacher had corrected everything on the paper and he was upset by the experience.

Personally, I think the boy is being a bit thin skinned, but the Wife is more on his side though and was wondering if his teacher might have been a bit over the top. Now, we’re thin on details so it’s difficult to say. The Wife told me that it wasn’t clear what had transpired between the boy and his teacher based on what the boy had told her. But from her perspective, it was enough to really upset him and that was her primary concern.

The boy came downstairs, ready for his martial arts class and apparently the talk with his Mom had helped his mood considerably. I figured I’d pry into things and see what I could glean about the situation.

But I never did.

For one, the boy seemed to be over whatever was bothering him, this appearance, more than anything else, compelled me to hold back on questioning him. And the longer I held back, I started thinking of other possibilities as well. He’d spoken with the Wife already, so he’d already gotten it off his chest. Also, he wasn’t bringing it up, so maybe he just didn’t want to talk to me about it.

So I opted to respect his space.

The rest of the evening went off without any problems. He finished his outstanding homework and even took some constructive criticism along the way.

It’s easy to fall into the mode of wanting to know and be involved in every little detail of your child’s life. We parents do that because we want to make sure we’re there to help them with their struggle. But they’re growing all the time, and there does come a point where they have to be able to handle their own problems. Maybe they can pick some of those moments themselves.

The boy finally got back to playing soccer this weekend after a 2 week hiatus due to Columbus Day Weekend and a Scout event the week prior. The flow of the game itself was interesting. The opposing team seemed to be slightly better- they had better spacing and seemed to have more guys aware of the ball and able to track it better. They outplayed the boy’s team in the first half.

But then the 2nd half started, and it was like an inverse of the first. The boy’s team spent most of the half attacking and keeping the other team on their heels. They were down for most of the game, but they’re constant pressure yielded some late goals and they were able to eke out a tie that felt more like a win.

The first thing the boy said when he got off the field was “I don’t ever want to play that team again. They were mean.”

So I asked him why they were “mean.”

He said they were saying some nasty things out on the field, including calling him particularly an “idiot.” Seems at some point his feet got tangled with one of their players and their player went down while the boy did not. That happens a lot actually, because the boy is bigger than most kids his age. After that minor altercation, the taunting began.

Not being on the field myself, I can’t judge to what degree it went to. It could be anywhere from a one-off heated comment to a full-on any chance they had to do it. But whatever the case may be, the boy was bothered by it.

I’m not surprised as he takes anything like that, especially from his sister, personally. Too much so in my opinion. Regardless of the fact that I’ve told him those kind of comments from kids he doesn’t know shouldn’t bother him, it bothers him. Some kids will never be bothered by that sort of thing, the boy just isn’t one of them. He just needs to develop a thicker skin.

When it came time for bed, I was curious about what the boy thought about his play today, so I asked him. He was generally pleased with how he’d played, but then he switched gears and asked “How should I handle it when kids call me names? I know I shouldn’t get mad and hurt them…” He was clearly still bothered by the “idiot” comment.

I wanted to try and explain that name-calling is a form of gamesmanship. But then I realized there was no point because he wasn’t ready to understand the mental games involved in sports. So I opted for advice my Dad would have given me: ignore it, play harder and make the taunter eat his own words. I didn’t bother to tell him that, sometimes, the taunter still gets the win. It’s better that he think “good” always wins right now.

I think part of him hoped I would reveal some kind of special incantation that would turn his adversary into a toad, or something. The advice isn’t the sexiest, but if he follows it and practices it, he’ll ultimately develop the ability to block those kind of distractions out. When that happens, he’ll have a big leg up on his competition.

When last we left our intrepid hockey player, he was sick of hockey. I remember quite clearly his final words as we left the rink at the end of last season: “I won’t ever play hockey again.”

I’ll admit that, at the time, I was of a mixed opinion on the matter. On the one hand- YES!!! Weekends free next year! No more tears over equipment and early mornings! On the other hand, well, I hated to see him dislike it so much. Hockey really is a good sport, I’d hoped he’d at least have a better opinion of it than that.

Then, about 2 months ago, the subject of hockey came up at the dinner table. The boy stated that he thought he’d like to play again. It was all I could do not to choke on my food. The Wife’s reaction wasn’t quite as strong as my own, but his statement caught her by surprise as well.

Ever since, we been waging a covert campaign to figure out what he really wants to do. The Wife and I both have strong senses of how thing will go if he chooses to play: after a couple weeks the complaining will start, halfway through he’ll be phoning in the practices with half-assed effort, buy the end he’ll be mad because his team can’t do anything and he’ll hate hockey. Again. That said, we are both reluctant to just out-and-out deny him the chance to play because we could be wrong.

We’ve both spoken with him, trying to couch the conversation in terms of his having thought about his martial arts classes and does he really want to give up his weekends? But he’s consistently come back with the conviction that he wants to play. So it looks like our weekends will be occupied this Winter.

As for the lass, she’s been in for quite awhile now. She’s a different beast altogether from her brother when it comes to sports. The boy wants to be an All Star without putting in any work. The lass just wants to have fun.

So the countdown has begun. 3 weeks to go.

Keeping up with his martial arts training, the boy graduated to his next belt level tonight. He’s now a full red belt, as opposed to a striped red. He did well, showing off some of his sparring skills and demonstrating the new form he learned.

But the highlight of the night came at the end of the graduation when he was awarded his new belt. The head instructor asked him if he knew what his last name meant in English. The boy nodded and said “The mountain.”

The instructor smiled and then said “Yes, you and your father. I think I’m going to start calling you ‘M&M’. You know what that stands for?”

The boy shook his head. None of use knew.

“It’s short for ‘Mini Mountain’.”

The boy got a big grin on his face and their was a good laugh all around.

I think it’s going to stick- a couple of the higher ranking kids told him afterwards they would start referring to him as “Mr. M&M” in class. The boy, to his credit, took it all without much fuss.

Now that he’s home, he’s not to keen on it. But I explained to him, that’s the thing about nicknames. The person in question doesn’t get any say in their selection.

With temps supposedly heading for the high 30’s tonight, we heading squarely into fire-starting territory. This actually won’t be the 1st one of the season, but the third. The past week or so has been beautiful weather up here, with low humidity and comfortable temps in the low 70’s. We’ve had a couple nights where temps dropped down into the low 40’s, which is also fire-starting temperatures. I took care of getting those fires going.

The boy took care of tonight’s.

This afternoon, I chopped up a bunch of the leftovers I had from the bigger operations earlier in the year. While I was doing that, I had both kids gather wood shards from around the driveway. I use those to start new fires because they’re dry and small- perfect for getting a fire going. They filled one of their beach buckets with these pieces.

The boy was clearly excited about starting the fire, because he started asking me if he could do it before we’d even had dinner. He took a beating from the Wife in a game that was not Monopoly, but awfully close. After licking his wounds, he went over and decided that he was going to start the fire.

I was all set to tell him “No”, but then I thought- why? So I could have the pleasure of starting the fire, again, for the 100th time? The stove is great for saving us money on heating the house, but it’s, frankly, a pain in the ass and there’s only so much interest I can take in starting yet another fire. What harm was there in letting him try? We’ve got insurance…

The lass was immediately jealous, and tried to insert herself into her brother’s operation. But there’s only so much room and she quickly realized that her brother had the driver’s seat.

So I talked him through starting it, trying to explain things so he would be able to get it going. He was over-zealous with the wood initially, putting too-large pieces on, but I got him on the right track and soon he had a flame to work with. From there, it was just a matter of containing his own exuberance so that he didn’t shove a bunch of wood on it and snuff his hard fought gains.

The next step will be to let him do it without any direction. Unfortunately, he’s still a bit young for swinging an axe; but then, he can operate the log splitter. Also, he’s still a bit intimidated by the fire for loading logs, but if I play my cards right (and contain my own exuberance) maybe I won’t have to start any fires this year.

We took the Wife’s Mother out for a nice dinner for her birthday. The place we went to offered a very unique dining experience as it isn’t the typical restaurant. For one, you can only go there with a reservation. For another, upon arrival, each party is assigned a waitress who takes care of everything from the cocktails through to dessert. In between, there’s a hayride and a nice view of a large farm. The food isn’t bad either.

Shortly after the appetizers were finished, the boy paid the bathroom a visit. He had a little trouble finding it, but the staff was happy to help him out.

After the dinner portion was complete, it was my turn to go. So I asked the boy where it was. He described it as being by the mirror.

His directions were completely adequate. Upon entering the bathroom, it was impossible to miss the piece of art work hanging above the throne. I’d been reading some of the clippings around the establishment and one of the original owners (who has recently passed on) was a decent painter in her hay day, including a nude portrait that she had done.

Hanging there above the throne, was said portrait. It was tasteful, as these things go, if not a little oddly placed.

When I returned to the table, I sat down and very coyly asked the boy what he thought about the artwork in the bathroom.

“What do you mean?” he asked, a very broad grin spread across his face.

“You know, did you like it?”

No he was giggling. He said “I didn’t really look at it.”

“You didn’t look at it?” I replied, feigning an incredulous demeanor. “How could you not look at it? It’s right there over the toilet…”

He replied “I looked down…” and he was starting to turn a little red.

By this point, everyone else at the table was wondering what the hell I was talking about. The lass, in particular, kept prodding her brother about what the painting was. He replied “It’s inappropriate…” He still couldn’t keep himself from grinning.

Five years from now, the boy will want to go there just to visit the bathroom…