Wednesday, June 29, 2011

You are now entering....

Something strange is happening. It's freaking me out.

I have a seven (and a half) year old. A seven (and a half) year old boy. Seven (and a half) year old boys like to play, and ride their bike, and build forts. They get dirty. They don't care. Often times, they're happy to wear the same clothes for days. And bathing? Well, that's optional.

A week (and a half) ago (haha), George gets up for church, asking to take a shower. Ok, fine. Gets dressed. Fine. Asks me if his clothes match. Uh... ok. .... Fine. (He's color blind so this is kind of an issue but he's never cared before.)

Then... THEN... he proceeds to the bathroom to gel his hair. GEL HIS HAIR. His OWN hair. And it's not even picture day. HUH!?!?!?! Ok. But I'm secretly thinking, is there a cute girl at church I don't know about?

This last Sunday, (the one 2 days ago), again. Shower. Clothes. Only this time, no hair gel. (Please note, I don't think he asked to take a shower anywhere in between then, and I'm not sure if I made him, either. This would indicate that showering is a special occasion. For what, I don't know.)

Last night, he goes to a friends house, and comes home a few hours later, saying he needs to take a shower. He played in the dirt and he needs to take a shower, and then in the morning he will need to take another one. Ok. I really didn't pay any attention to him until about the seventh time he repeated this when I finally said, Dude, if you want to take a shower, go take one. So he did. 

In the meantime, I was upstairs reading bedtime stories to the other kids. He comes up, after his shower, whips the towel off, parts flailing wildly, arms spread high in the air, and says, "Do I look shiny?" Covering my eyes, (Ok, not really. We're not very modest here.) I said, "Sure. Pretty shiny." And then I continued with the story. However, apparently he wasn't done with our conversation as he kept saying how he was going to take another shower in the morning. Sure, but, but I'm reading here.

Fast forward 11 hours.

I'm laying in bed, trying to eke out as much shut eye and quiet time as I can. I hear someone pass by my door and go downstairs. This is normal so I was not alarmed. Realizing that Huggyface was in no way shape or form going to go back to sleep nor going to be quiet about his being awake, I started getting out of bed. (Hey, after age 30, when you stay up too late, then have to wake a few times in the night to feed a certain peewee child, it's a process, the whole eyes open, body moving thing.) I manage to hoist myself and baby out of my bed, and upon coming downstairs, I hear this sort of jet plane noise that is unmistakably my shower. (Seriously, it's like this high pitched squeal, like a jet plane. The shower head is new, has been making this noise since we put it in a few months ago, and no, my husband did not "amend" it in any way. But seriously. Jet plane. It's annoying.) 

So I go into the bathroom and say, "Whatcha doin', bud?" 
"I'm taking a shower. I told you I was going to take another shower in the morning."
"Ok, but you're not dirty yet."
"Yeah, but I want to be shiny."

Ok. Whatever.

So I'm in the living room changing Huggy's diaper when I hear, "Mom, can you fetch me some clothes?" Huh? What the heck am I? Every one's personal attendant/slave? Is this what his father is teaching him? 

I don't answer.

A few minutes later he comes out, wrapped in towel and again asks, "So, do I look shiny?"  Uh, yeah, sure. He starts heading upstairs, and I hear him say, "The cleaner I get, the cleaner I'll be." True dat, son. But WHO ARE YOU?

Still, I'm shaking my head in confusion at these events. CONFUSION.

Suddenly, I decide I need to blog this whole thing. (Though, mind you, it's not done yet.) As I'm writing, he comes downstairs, dressed, and heads to the bathroom again, where he brushes his teeth. Unrequested. His teeth. With toothpaste. Then, he comes and stands next to me and I can clearly smell that he has also PUT ON DEODORANT. (Which he definitely needs to do every day but usually never does unless asked.) Again. Confusion. Standing there at my side, he says something to me but my brain cannot function. I know I responded, but I'm so dumbfounded that I can't remember the exchange. I do know it was good. As in, blog post material good. Darn my confused memory.

Now he's talking about going back to his friend's house for whatever fort building fun they had yesterday, and informs me he is going to pick up some friends. (I'm laughing. Some friends, huh? What "friends"? lol) But all this talk and preparation has got his sister interested, so she's now showered and dressed, and both of them have informed me that they've had breakfast... a banana. Also, he calls from the other room and tells her to brush her teeth.

Do you hear it? That up and down, haunting melody? Do do do do, do do do do.

You are now entering....

The Twilight Zone.


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