Saturday. In the car. Liam pointing.

“That tire-swing gives me an idea. We should cut other stranger’s kid’s swings down, and stop them from having fun.”

Dada: “What were you doing?”

Liam: “We were fighting Sam!”

Dada: “Do you think I want you fighting Sam?”

Liam: “I wasn’t the one fighting him. I was the one blocking him so Nate could get him.”

Big FIVE! Happy Birthday, Beans!

Liam: Day 1

Liam: Day 1,823

In our house, the start of the school year also means the start of the plague-of-the-month club. And, as the boys are taught to do in preschool, they share! With everyone! After a week of preschool, Liam came home and collapsed onto the couch with his blanket and half-mast eyes. Bean’s eyes are his tell when he’s sick, puffy with smoky half-moons underneath.

“I’m so sleepy, Mum-Mum.”

He drifted off and awoke an hour later in a sobbing rage, furious at the fever that had snuck up on him. I dosed him with Tylenol and wrestled his fiery little body into bed, rubbing his ears until he gave in to sleep again. He was out of school the next day. Although the high fever from the night before was gone, he off-handedly complained that his cheek hurt. I immediately made an appointment with the doctor because I know that that little comment…the one I used to ignore and not act on?…that means I have about 12 hours to get amoxicillin into him before he has a full-on sinus and ear infection. The doctor confirmed as much and faxed in a prescription to the Giant Eagle pharmacy.

For not feeling well, Liam was being unusually agreeable to being poked and prodded and driven all over town. We waited at the Giant Eagle pharmacy. Waited and waited…and, waited.

“Well, sometimes the faxes take a while to come in.”

“But, it would have been 30 minutes ago that he faxed it…”

“Maybe you should call and have them talk to us.”

Liam and I made our way to the front of the store so that my phone could get a signal and parked ourselves next to a giant pyramid of cases of bottled water. The front office was nice the first time I called. Sure! We’ll call that right in for you! Thanks! I’m at Giant Eagle on 40! OK! No problem! Thanks! No, thank you! 15 minutes later, nothin’. Back to the plastic water mountain. Now, the front office was irritated with me.

“Ma’am, I called it in 10 minutes ago and spoke with Elvin.”

“Lady, they do not have the prescription and there is no one named Elvin!”

“Well, I called it in to Giant on route 40 and…”

In lieu of screaming into my phone in the middle of the grocery store, I hissed through my gritted teeth at the doctor’s receptionist.

“I’m at GIANT EAGLE…not, GIANT!”

Liam licked the plastic around a case of water, daring me to do anything about it.

“Oh! Well that would be the problem, wouldn’t it!”

“That would be one of the problems.”

So, after an hour of faxing and calling our amoxicillin prescription in to the wrong pharmacy, she finally got it right. We wander back to the pharmacy and waited in line. Again.

Liam kept his shit together fairly well, especially given how long we’d had to wait and that he was sick. He leaned into me, hugging an arm around my thigh for support. I combed my fingers through his thick, glossy hair, marveling that mine used to be that exact color before it got darker…and lighter with all the gray. He popped his thumb into his mouth, got quiet, and began studying the faces around us.

I immediately went on high alert because, while Liam would never say anything intentionally mean spirited or hurtful to a stranger, he sometimes loudly questions things he doesn’t understand or makes loud comments about a person’s appearance. I’ve explained that that can hurt someone’s feelings, even though he wouldn’t mean to and that it would be better to save those kinds of questions until we’re alone.

I followed his gaze, trying to guess what he might be thinking and desperately seeking some sort of distraction. Just as I was about to start up a quiet game of ‘I spy,’ I saw his eyes settle on two men about ten feet from us. They were middle-aged and stylish. They stood hip to designer hip at the counter, one man rubbing the other’s back in comfort, as he seemed to be feeling under the weather. Just then, Liam’s thumb was pushed out of his mouth by an urgent question. His face tilted up to mine in concern and I braced, thinking more about how I would apologize to the men, rather than how I would answer his question.

With a nod to the gay couple in front of us my little master of the obvious, minus volume control said, “Mum-Mum! Why hasn’t that man’s hair come in yet?”

Well done, Liam! Not the observation I was expecting, yet still mortifying!

Looks like someone erased my ID this weekend and attempted to sign onto my laptop themselves, using completely made-up credentials. Let’s see if anything about the perpetrator’s identity can be gleaned from a closer examination of their bogus login information:

boyliamboyLIAM

I love the fact that the last ‘Liam’ is in all caps, like he was typing it. With. AUTHORITY!
It implies confidence, as in “THIS is the name of someone who is about to play games on pbskids.org!”

There’s no way to know exactly what he typed for his password, but it was probably something like “nowbringmejuiceinabigboycupBEYOTCH”.

So the two big boys are now in school, as seen below on each of their orientation days - getting into the car for Liam’s, and man-handling Sam’s umbrella stroller for Nate’s.

In a statement that would undoubtedly warm the hearts of all overworked preschool teachers everywhere who do it for the simple reward of shaping and influencing young minds, Liam told us that he likes his new class better “because it has different toys”. He’ll actually tell you what he’s done that day if you ask him within the first 30 seconds of picking him up. After that, his standard response is, “Um, I don’t remember that.” I’ve resorted to turning it into a game and asking him to tell me one thing that happened in preschool that’s true, and one thing that’s NOT true, then letting me guess which is which. So I get a little information and at the same time, teach him to lie convincingly.

Nate, after helping to drop Liam off all last year, is simply happy to be able to now stay. Jill used to find him trying to hang up his coat and sit down at the activity tables. She’d help him back on with it and tell him that he’d get to go to Big Boy School next year. So now it’s next year, he’s the “Biiiig THREE!” (holding up three fingers), and he gets to stay. It’s his class this time, and he has his own hook. He brought home a little class photo, framed with popsicle sticks and generously glued-on pumpkin seeds. In it, he’s definitely the happiest kid in the picture, and he’s not even the one picking his nose.

And so begins a lifetime of calendar-based adherence to a repetitive daily schedule dictated by the clock and seeded with the occasional small block of cheese.

Welcome to society, boys!

Day One: Liam

Day Two: Nate