Bug

Of my sons, Bug is most like me.  I think it’s why he makes me so crazy. 

“Ever notice how the things that you get on Bug’s case for are the same things you do?”  Man likes to point out.

For example:  Bug and I hate, loathe and despise the morning.  That’s not completely accurate.  We don’t appreciate being woken up by an alarm.  Or a person.  Or a dog.  It’s unnatural and makes us very grumpy.  One should be allowed to wake up when they are darn good and ready.

Yesterday I woke Bug up and he grumbled and moaned into his pillow.  He eventually came out of his room, his scowling eyebrows shielding his eyes from the sun that was just barely coming over the horizon.

“Why don’t we have curtains?!” he growled.  “The sun is too bright!”

“Baby, it’s barely up and we don’t need curtains.  No one can see in from up here.”

“I can already tell this is going to be a terrible day.”

“Well, yes.  Since you are determined that it will, than it shall.”

*if looks could kill glare*

“Come here,” I said, “You haven’t had your 20 second hug yet.” 

Scientists say that a hug is most effective if it lasts for at least 20 seconds.  This has been helping Bug and I with our morning routine.  More on that later. As I held him, he struggled and faught to be free.
“Shhh,” I mumbled into the top of his head. “You’re getting your 20 seconds so you might as well stop struggling. Shoot. Now I have to start over with my counting.”

As our morning progressed I got a call from Caren, “Hey, Mimi wanted me to call you to be sure you knew that today was picture day.”

Thank goodness.  It takes a village.  At least it takes a village for my kids because their mother is such a slacker.  I looked at Bug in his jeans and a black Zombie Control Response Team t-shirt.  I reminded Bug that it was picture day.

“Oh yeah!” he gasped.  A few minutes later he immerged from his bedroom wearing his red corduroy jacket from his Hobbit costume, his ascot draped across his neck.

“Mom, could you help me tie this darn ascot?” he groused.

I love that he wore his Hobbit clothes!  I shake my head at the silliness but I think it’s so great that he has such individual style and the confidence to wear it.  P.S. another classmate wore a tux.  Say what you will about the mountain kids but they have gumption! 

Drew, ready for school.

Drew, ready for school.

When I picked Drew up from school the ascot was put away in his back pack.  He still looked quite fetching with his zombie t-shirt and red blazer.  Looked like a rock star!

Drew, after school

Drew, after school

“Good mornin’!” he crowed as he got in the car.

“Hey Bug-o.  How was your day?”

“Not bad.  Can we listen to Hobbit music on the way home?”

I found the Hobbit soundtrack on my iPod.  Bug turned it up.  The whole way home he had this little smile on his face and I could practically see his imagination peeling away our world and revealing middle earth right before my little Bug’s eyes.  As we pulled onto our road the Returning Home Theme came on.  We could not have cued it up better!  Bug put two fists straight out in front of him like he was holding the reigns of a horse.  The truck bumped and rocked it’s way up the gravel driveway making Bug appear to really be on a horse.

“Ah…home,” he sighed.

The afternoon routine of homework and dinner began.  I hate how little time we have between school and afterschool activity but Tuesday and Thursday are swim team nights and I won’t let Bug miss it.  He needs the exercise and loves the sport.  This night, however, he wanted to stay home.

“I had a swim meet on Sunday,” he argued as if exercising 2 days ago would justify passing on exercising now.

“Swim gear on.  Let’s go.”

Since the last meet was at home, the kids got to have a game day instead of a regular practice.  There were a few rounds of Marco Polo and then they got to jump off the high dive.  I sat at the opposite end of the pool reading while the kids’ laughter and screams echoed around the pool.  And then I could hear a voice I knew well…

There was a loud and nervous groan.  I looked up to see Bug climbing the steps to the high dive.  Each step was labored and deliberate and punctuated with that nervous groan.  His team mates cheered him on and shouted encouragement and a few “hurry ups!”  He finally got to the top.  Both hands on the rails he timidly shuffled out onto the board.  At the end of the rails he looked back towards the steps as if considering going back down.  Bug took a deep breath and shuffled out past the safety of the hand rails and to the edge of the board.  Twisting his hands, he looked down into the pool.  His team mates shouted for him to jump.  He looked back at the steps again and then forward again out to me.  I smiled, gave a thumbs up and whispered, “you can do it!”  With that, Bug stepped off the board and down he went into the pool with a huge splash.  He resurfaced with his gurgling laughter and shouted, “that was AWESOME!!”  He jumped again and again until it was time to go.

“Mom, that was SO amazing!  When you step off the high dive you feel kind of weightless and frigil.”

“Frigid?  Like cold?”

“No.  Frigil.  Like paper floating in the wind.”

“Ah…I think you mean fragile.”

“That’s it!”

“Fra-gee-lay,” I laughed..

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, you just feel like nothing while you plummet and then as soon as you hit the water you feel stronger than anything in the world!  Like you could conquer anything!  Hey mom, I was wrong.  The Fun did come today.”

“The Fun?”

“Yeah, this morning I didn’t want to get up because nothing fun was going to happen until Wednesday but than I went to swim and the Fun came!”

“The Fun came because you let it.  You make your days fun Bug.  And mine too.”

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About buddyandbug

Man and I moved from Texas to Colorado with Buddy and Bug. This blog is a chronicle of our adventures as we deal with homesickness and adjust to Mountain Living. “If you are a dreamer,come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a hoper, a prayer, a magic-bean-buyer. If you're a pretender, come sit by my fire, for we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!” ~ Shel Silverstein
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