Veritas

Yesterday I mentioned a scrimmage game.  Here's the report from Z:

"Today we had a skrimage (which is precisely how 'scrimmage' should be spelled) game.  I (it) was a tie.  I caught lots of balls.  It was fun!"

It's all true; we had the game, it was indeed a tie, which is great no one lost, Z did 'cot' a lot of balls... in fact he dropped back out of shortstop and snagged one over his shoulder, man, he looked... oh, sorry.  And. it was fun, with an exclamation point.

There are two diverse points I want to make today, the first is simple: kids tell the truth.  I think we are born to tell the truth, it is our default.  My boys are terrible at lying and usually only try kiddingly.  Sometimes they try to sneak stuff into their book-bags to take to school, baseball cards, a Ninjago guy, a drawing for a girl.  I don't really know why they try to sneak, I know the teacher doesn't care, so, I figure if they want to risk losing what they take in, or, suffer the ridicule when it's something I didn't have the chance to suggest otherwise, like the green turtle bath tub toy that N took some ribbing for, then  take it in.  No need to sneak it into the backpack if...

You know what, I lied.  I know damn good and well why they do it:  It's fun to sneak stuff.  Hell, half the reason I smoked cigarettes as long as I did was because I got a little thrill when I went off and sneaked one.  Little thrills now, big thrills later.

I'm in trouble, aren't I?

My second point is more a bit of advice I guess.  Always make sure there are writing utensils and paper and notebooks and markers and post-its and flip books and colored pencils and crayons and anything else you can think of.  You will be rewarded, given you take the time to look, with an insight into your kid's mind.  They will write the facts, their make-believe heroes will right the wrongs, they will draw their dreams, they will animate and orchestrate their hopes.  They will tell you their truths.

I admire my boys, truly.  I am, and I've mentioned this before but is worth repeating, flabbergasted at how well they negotiate this plane on which we live.  I mean, really, life is pretty weird and it is impossible to figure out, believe me I'm still trying, but every morning they happily get out of bed, dance into the morning and seem to shout:  Bring it on!

Hell, yeah, with an exclamation point.

From Marci's '...things you don't expect to hear from the backseat...'

Z:  "Show me your best purr."

N 'purrs'

Z:  "That doesn't sound like a purr... that sounds like a fart."

I just don't know why I find that so amusing...