Decaved.

Today is, as all days, one of good fortune (when you look in the right spots).
At two minutes before 10 this morning, I was shoving cheese in a bag for lunch. Searching for another quick lunch option was futile, and I had a parade to attend. I arrive at the parade just as the dragon danced his way through the church doors. I caught up with them in the church office and when Turner saw me, his whole face reminded me how appreciated I am. I can't capture it in words; I just hope I showed it to my mom a few times when I was young. I followed him and his hand partner (Noah) around Catalina as Turner told me over and over, "I love you Mom." One of the many strong qualities of Turner is his desire to express himself; I never tire of hearing it either.
While the dragon, masked Pre-K, and those with ox head-gear (Turner's class) worked their way down the sidewalk toward the library, I found myself standing beside Ginger's dad. He shares his trials of being a single-parent (Ginger's mom got a gig singing professional opera for a show that lasts six weeks. She is finishing up in two weeks. Ginger's dad is NOT happy, apparently, about how awful he finds having to do all the work of parenting. I am less than amused to be sympathetic to him. Yet, I am compelled to be polite and nod. Ginger's dad, by the way, is a huge talker and Andy and I often joke about being trapped by him.) As the children are winding back toward the school, Ginger's dad says Ginger still talks of Turner nearly everyday. She is, he said, quite matter of fact about Turner's role as boyfriend in her life. We laughed over how they just seemed to choose one another and latch onto the ideal of partnerships. I said that Turner had been indoctrinated to only be attracted to liberal women. Ginger's dad laughed and said, "Yes. And we hope she doesn't marry anyone from Texas." Hmmm. Sounds a bit familiar . . .
I return to Catalina several hours later and find Turner in the sand yard. He has taken a nap and is eager to tell me he gets something "special" today as he leaves. Sure enough, on the corner of the desk by the front door is a big box of fortune cookies. We each select one and open them in the car. Turner's said, very appropriately, "You are loved, and you proclaim your love to everyone."
I love fortune cookies. As we finished ours off, Turner asked, "Was your fortune cookie yummy?"
"Yes it was. I wish I had another one."
"Well, maybe when it is Chinese again you can have one. And maybe I can have one too."
A few moments later, we are talking about the parade. I am trying to draw connections between Chinese new year as an event and Chinese as a culture. Turner, however, is most interested in telling me a long story about Ms. Christy. Then he offers some gossip about Noah.
"Thank you for inviting me to your parade today. Did you have fun?"
"Yeah. I did." I tell him some things that were my favorites. I explain Chandler's mask - which was made by his mother who is Chinese and born in the year of the dog - and offer accolade for the nice job Erin did as the dragon head. "So, anyway, thank you for inviting me. I like when you share your school with me."
"Well, I really didn't invite you. Daddy invited you."
"Oh..." He cuts me off.
"I mean Daddy and I invited you." I am proud of the proper position of his pronoun.
"Oh. Well. I was glad to be invited and glad to be there."
A few hours later, he is seated on the counter helping me cook dinner and eating "shark salmon patty cakes," "crunchy broccoli," and almonds. There is an apple on the counter that is past the point where it will be eaten but not yet to the point where I want to toss it out. Turner rolls it around and says, "Do you know about decave?"
"What?"
"On the Science Kid this morning they were talking about decave."
"OK. So explain it to me."
"Well." He looks at the apple with intensity. "It is when things get smaller and kinda melt inside itself."
"That's interesting." I grab a piece of paper to jot down the word so I can remember to blog about it later [only to not be able to find that piece of paper right now].
"Yeah. I got to watch PBS before school. And when PBS goes off sometimes my dad can find new PBS."
"Really? That's neat."
"Yeah." Long pause. "You should throw this in the trash mom. It is decaved."
"You're right. Throw it away." He does. Then he looks to me and grins as though he has orchestrated a secret conspiracy against the apple and succeeded.