Veterans day.

Turner and I were sitting at the kitchen table. It was 2pm. He was picking at his lunch (still….after almost forty minutes spent staring the food down and dancing around with a plane acting out a video game). I was typing and writing in preparation for the conference. We’ve talked about a variety of things, some of which were related to Veterans and what they do. Turner explained to me (for the third time today) that D is a veteran (which he says with difficulty and somehow adds an extra vowel or two). He gets quiet before he finished the story about D and him being an “Army guy.”
“Mom?”
“Yes?” He put some cheese into his mouth. I looked up from my work. “What’s on your mind?”
“Oh I was just thinking. I wish we lived in a story.”
“Well, we kind of do. We all have our own stories to live and to tell and when we share those stories we invite others into our life.” (I resist explaining to him the feminist philosophy about narrative as a way to bring meaning to experience).
“Oh.”
“What kind of story would you like to live in?” He threw a few cashews into his mouth and made stacks with his square cheese and “special” crackers (a.k.a. Wheat Thins).
“Well,” he pushed his plate to the side of the table as though he wanted to perform the story for me, “we would live in Kentucky and we would live in a house close to a lake. A big lake. So we could drive to PaPa’s house and ask him to come fishing. And we’d try to have a contest to see who got the most fish.”
“Interesting. Does mom get a garden in our story?”
“Of course.”
“And what is the prize for winning the contest with Pa Pa?”
“Well,” without missing a beat, “ a remote control airplane. And you wouldn’t have to eat tired eggs anymore. At all. Though eating lots is important and to winning most contests so I guess that really isn’t a good prize. But the airplane sure is.”
“Yeah. What do you think Pa Pa would do with a remote control airplane?”
“What?”
“Well, I mean if Pa Pa wins the contest, what would he do with the airplane?”
“Oh I think he would give it to me. Yeah. For sure he would want to give it to me.”
I figured our story was over. I returned to my paper, hoping to finish the conclusion so I can sent it back to the journal before the conference (which did not happen). Turner sat for a moment more then, as though in deep thought, he got up from the table and put his lunch remains in the trash and put his plate in the sink. Be impressed folks. He doesn’t always do this without being reminded, but he does always do it without complaint. He walked back across the kitchen and snuggled up to my arm. “Mom?”
“Yeah?”
“My belly hurts again.” Turner had been having some stomach trouble this week and he occasionally complained about it. I think it was mostly gas trouble. Before lunch, for example, he walked through the house making noise and apologizing as he went. When he got into the kitchen where I was making his lunch he said, "My butt won’t stop talking to me today."
I pulled him into my lap and rubbed his belly in the special soothing way he taught me how to do in preparation for his entire day of being a cat (which was weeks ago). He purred like a cat.
“Is it feeling better?”
“Yeah a little.”
“I think your belly is just upset. Do you feel your intestines working?”
“What are isteninals?”
“Intestines.” We practiced this a few times. He got closer to saying it correctly. His way was much cuter so we moved on. I described to him the work that intestines do and I talked about different kinds of food we are supposed to eat that improve how our intestines function (Turner was so interested in the inside parts of his body that he couldn’t see. We’ve been reading lots about anatomy of the body and talking about how the food we put in our body affects how the body works. This started after Andy and I took T to watch Food, Inc. and T started asking lots of questions about food and what it does for us and where it comes from. We have looked at pictures of meat in the cookbook and talked about which part of the animal it is. Sometimes he says it is nasty to eat these things. Sometimes he refuses to eat any more dinner until he gets a meat on his plate. Either way, it is his choice.)
After we talked about the work that intestines do and how they do it, he said he wants to see a video about it. Hmmm. Google. Sure enough there were 150 videos about the small intestine. We watched two of them. The first was a scientific video that was a bit boring (to me) but fascinating to Turner. The second video was of a man dressed strangely and brightly and he was explaining the function of the small intestine in the body. The tone was more kid-friendly and the guy seemed to be talking to our level, but Turner said “Mom. That one is boring. He is talking to me like I'm a baby.” We spent a bit longer browsing images of intestines (some Halloween decorations, some photos that look like they came from PK’s camera phone, and some really really gross images of intestines not working properly. Oh, and a picture of a diseased liver from an alcoholic man that made me want to never open my computer again. Ugh Gross. Turner saw it, though, and said it was cool, with a long and lingering "o" with just a hint of surprise in his voice.

A bike kite bird'house' kind of day.

Turner wanted to fly his kite today and the wind was minimal. So, we decided to do a 'Sid the Science Kid' experiment.
Questions: How long should the string be for the kite to fly high enough for the kite tails to not drag the ground? Where should we tie the string on Turner's bike? Which direction is the wind blowing? How many times can mom run up and down the street chasing kite tails? What happens when the string gets wrapped into the spokes of Turner's bike?
Our findings: tying wrapping paper ribbon to a kite with kite tails as long as three car lengths and then tying the other end of the wrapping paper ribbon to the seat of Turner's bike is easy. Getting the bike going without getting the ribbon wrapped all up in the spokes of Turner's bike is difficult. Once you accomplish this, however, the next challenge is riding in the correct direction, fast enough and long enough to get the kite in the air.
Final conclusion: Dogs like kite tails.

Inside, we make a bird feeder out of a milk jug. He did the drawing. I did the cutting. He did the decorating, painting, stickering, and adding of the love. Dad is getting the bird seed on his way home from work. In the video, Turner explains his artist expertise.



Part of decorating the bird feeder Turner wants to write birdhouse on it. I spell the letters out to him and he writes it on the bird feeder. I post this video to YouTube. It is too big to upload here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W8kUj_4Fdog

Hiking.

Turner and I went on a hike today.

It was 97 degrees here, so we sweated a lot. Turner was a super trooper, and everyone that met him on the trail had to gush over him and how "tough" he was. Seriously, I heard between ten and twelve tough guy remarks, as in "What a tough guy," "geez look at that tough guy," or "thank goodness you got such a tough little guy with you." I guess there were a half dozen statements of shock "Oh my goodness. How old is he?" So, Turner had admirers.

We hiked, stopped about five times for water,and then 35 minutes in we had lunch in a tiny piece of shade that a leaning cactus offered us (yeah, it wasn't much). We lunched for awhile. I look at the time and mistakenly think we

have only been hiking for twenty minutes. I ask if his legs are too tired to go on. He jumps to his feet and shouts, "No! I am too tough for that."

So we hiked on for another 15 minutes or so to the wash where I knew there was shade and maybe (hope beyond hope) some water. There was not any water, but Turner surfed for awhile.

Turner, after having learned the word agile, decided he would prove over and over that he could balance rock to rock. At one point he put his foot to a small rock that was not securely fastened to the earth and he caught

the next rock with his knee. It looked scary and he admonished me for not having taken a picture as the accident happened.

The Injury. I think it was "five scrapes and two bloody spots."

This was an excited moment during lunch. Turner said, That looks like Santa's sleigh. In the clouds.

There was quite a bit of rugged terrain (a new phrase for Turner. Other words he learned and tried over and over in his conversation was entrance, agile, agility, maneuverability).

Target.

Turner and I are sitting at the table. He's just run my legs off with requests, and I finally sit at the table to eat dinner. He looks down into his Buzz Lightyear cup and looks over at my Buzz Lightyear cup and says, "Hey. We have the same cup."
"Yes. Indeed we do."
He thinks for a second or so. "Mom, thanks for getting me this." Getting him milk to drink instead of water.
"You're welcome."
"You know, on your next birthday I'm gonna buy you something great." Hmmm. Wonder where this is coming from. He's been talking of Christmas a lot, making lists here and there about toys that he envisions and then describes with much detail as though Andy and I will ever be able to find them.
"Well," and I begin telling him how my favorite present of all time was the one he got me for my last birthday (A puppet; there are pictures of it in a summer entry). "I just don't know how you will top that . . ." He interrupts me.
"No Mom. I mean I'm gonna get you something great like the kinds of stuff at Target."
"Oh."
"Yeah. I think I will get you . . . " he glances around the kitchen as he takes a drink of milk ". . . a microwave. Yeah. I will get you a blue microwave."
"Why do I need another microwave."
"Well" with that long hesitation on the "eh" "the one you have is all white. And this way you can warm up dinners two at a time. You can warm something up and then my dad can warm something up. That will be a great present."
"Very thoughtful, yes. But, I like those presents from your heart. The kind you can make."
"No no. You'll like the ones from Target too."
"Okay."

We eat for awhile. He confesses getting in trouble at school today "only" two times. We discuss the importance of being a good friend and of being respectful to teachers. T has a poop. I perform a wipe. Back at the table in his underwear he says, "Mom. When we go to Target to get your birthday present, can I get a little something?"
"Such as...?"
"Oh I don't know. I will just walk around and see."

A transcription.

Tonight I told Turner, "Well I guess I need to be writing some blog about you after my sabbatical." I define sabbatical. He laughs and says it sounds like Mexico. Somehow, in his mouth, it does. He offers to tell me a story and says I can type it up for the blog. He begins and I am still eating my dinner so I miss much of it. In short, it was about how awesome Erin is and how kind she is and what a great friend she is and how beautiful Turner thinks her insides are. And then, how she doesn't get to eat McDonald's french fries either because she knows they will make people fat (Turner and I have had this conversation before over dinner before, about a month ago. He told me, "Hey mom. Erin knows about McDonald's too." "Oh yeah? What does she know." "She says that it is gross and that the french fries will make you fat.")
I finish my fish taco, retrieve the computer, and he dictates this story to me. Enjoy a piece of what is one of my favorite luxuries in life: Turner's storytelling.

Once upon a time, me and Erin ate a lot and a lot of cranberries and we got an eyeball ache. And we wanted to go in and we had to go to the hospital (throws hand in the air) because we were already growns ups and we were already married. So we came home and then it took two three five days for the baby eyeball to come out. And then we took him to our favorite spot to eat cranberries and he ate too many so he got a stomach eyeball ache too and he looked pretty small but we were taller than him and we were also skinny eyeballs. We were as tall as up to my heart [he shows me]. Then we went to the fairytaling yogurt place where you get to have lots of cotton candy and you get to ride on a ferris wheel. Me and Erin rode in a blue one because that is me and Erin's favorite color. And the baby rided in the green one. And we also wanted to end at 8-9-0-6-1 days on eyeball families. And one hundred percent we were going to Kentucky to see our other families. And we also had one hundred percent. And we were all packed up. [Then he lists every member of our family, starting with Bob, as the ones he introduces Erin to during their trip.] So then we decided to have a girl baby. It took two days for the other baby to come out. And we went to the hospital and brought that one home and the other boy baby was taller than her sister. We loved her though.
What did you name your babies?
Kimel and Judy. And they were one hundred percent [must be talking about percents at school or something]. And the boy baby said, "Turn." And he said his first word. And the girl said, "eyeball." And that was both of their first words. And the boy said "friend" and that was his second word. And then I said, "K. It is time for your naps babies." So they slept for one hundred million years and then I said, "K babies. Hi." The end.


Smiley Face Pancakes . . . the start to our day.