Chillin

My day of parenting started just about 15 hours ago, and didn't really let up until just a few moments ago. So you can understand why I might be sounding a little bit jello-brained.

Today I was supposed to have the morning "off" but Zach was still a little sick-ish, so I kept him home and dragged him along on my day. I had made plans to attend a lecture on pediatric dermatology at a big skin care medical center/spa near us -- one that just happens to make my very favorite kind of sunscreen -- and they had promised some goodie bags for anyone who came to the lecture. So even though I had thought that the topic might make good column material at some point, I really went for the swag. It was billed as a "Mommy and Me" talk, and it said that children were welcome, so I figured, how bad could it be if Zach came along? Well, guess what? When Zach is tired and a little sick, he doesn't want to sit through a PowerPoint presentation on skin care. And no amount of raspberry juice or mini-bagels can convince him otherwise.

I basically spent the lecture chasing him around the top floor of the building between the two most interesting things he could find: the "Call Freight" button on the elevator (why did they put that one the lowest?) and the door to the "Use Only In Emergencies" staircase. When I finally managed to get him back into the lecture room, he discovered the blueberry-flavored cream cheese for the bagels, which he thought was ice cream. So while I was trying to keep him from licking it directly off the serving knife, he was alternately yelling "Want...ice...cream!" and coughing right into it. If it sounds bad, it's because it was.

So why didn't I just leave? Because I was determined to get the goodie bag, which they didn't hand out until the end. And as it turned out, the goodie bag was a massive waste of time. No sunscreen to speak of. But hey - anyone want a paper-clip-sized sample of stretch-mark cream?

The day got a little brighter when we got home because there was a big broken-arm care package from Uncle Joe waiting on our doorstep ("Spare Ulna and Radius Included," it said on the outside). It was clearly designed to thrill Luke to pieces (complete with Captain Underpants comic taped to the box) and drive me to distraction (candy, candy everywhere). Luke is most thrilled with a lollipop that has a grabber-arm attached to it. I guess he figures if you only have use of one arm, why shouldn't it be extra-long?

Speaking of treats that Luke has received since he broke his arm, Mom and Dad sent him a little stack of read-it-yourself books aimed at 1st and 2nd grade readers. This afternoon he and I sat down to read them and I was completely, jaw-droppingly, flabbergasted at what he can do. These are somewhat complex books (no "See Spot run") that he has never seen before and he just read them out loud to me as if he's been reading his whole life. I knew that he could recognize words but I imagined that most of his favorite books he had essentially memorized. Who knew that he could just plow through a book that he had never even seen before? Dave credits "Captain Underpants" with this development. He is so desperate to read it, and everyone is so desperate to avoid reading it to him, that it has forced him to learn to read on his own. This opens up whole new worlds for him...and me.

I'll end with a cute thing that the boys do: When they're both running somewhere, Luke will be running out ahead and then he'll stop, turn around, and open both his arms up to Zach. Then Zach will run straight into his arms and say, "Luke... big hug!" Then they'll separate and continue running, and stop every few moments for another hug. It is hilarious and adorable. Sure beats fighting over toys or licking cream cheese knives. So as I fall asleep tonight, that's what I'll be thinking about.