I See You Have Constructed a New Lightsaber … Again

Oh, my goodness!  Spring is almost upon us, and that makes the end of the school year feel frighteningly close.  I’m really not dreading the nonstop circus of mayhem that is summer vacation around here.  Truth be told, I’m actually looking forward to the chaos, because once it’s over, my baby will be heading to all-day kindergarten, and this house is going to get very quiet.  [Insert soundbite from any cheesy movie in which someone mutters, "It's quiet.  Too quiet."]  I’m afraid that I’m going to miss my little Sean-bon something fierce.  Yes, most often I call the boy “Sean-bon.”  That kid goes by many names around here: Seany, Sean-bon, Seany-Bon Hoover-Snoot, Sean Bon Jovi, Benedict Sean-berbatch.  I could go on.  His personality is too big for just one name.

Sean earns himself the nickname "Sean-Claude Van Damme" with his epic split.

But perhaps a little less “togetherness” is just what we need.  I admit the boy can be a bit overwhelming at times.  He can be a little … intense (as shown here with his paper lightsaber).

But then he’ll switch over to adorable (while coloring lightsabers).

Then he’ll parlay adorable into fierce (with his pool noodle lightsaber) …

Swing back into adorable again (while dreaming of lightsabers) …

Slide back into fierce (holding an imaginary lightsaber) …

Dive down into straight-up creepy (as Master Kit Fisto with his seafoam green lightsaber) …

And then round right back into adorable (proudly displaying his drawing of lightsabers).

But kindergarten should be an interesting change for him.  I’m curious what his new teacher will have to say about his school work.  Right now Sean is pretty much using preschool as a means to mass produce … yep, lightsabers.  

I can’t help but feel a little awkward that the boy seems to have little else to concern him than the fabrication of Jedi weaponry.  If his preschool teachers ever show any genuine concern over the matter, I think I should just point out that they are clearly enabling his psychosis by giving him access to building materials like popsicle sticks and handouts of little animals that are gripping things.  

A wooden stick? No! That is clearly meant to be a beaver-sized lightsaber.

I’m afraid there’s not much that is off-limits to being transformed into a weapon of Sith destruction in Sean’s mind.  But, I suppose, what can you expect from a boy who refers to “outside” as “the Rebel Base”?  Well, I’m going to enjoy this little maniac for as long as I can, because I know one of these days he’s not going to find joy in crude lightsabers, wrought from popsicle sticks and pool noodles or little scraps of paper.  No.  One day my boy will grow up … and then he’ll make them on his metal lathe.





Khakis Are to the Left of the Ball Gags

Oh, my goodness.  I love my sweet, little boys and how innocent they are.  I keep thinking that any minute now they’re going to transform into hideous, hormone-crazed, knuckle-dragging, voice-cracking, boob-ogling, pubescent idiots.  But I suppose that particular worry is a bit premature, seeing as how the boys are still only seven and four.  Still, it helps ease the paranoia of impending adolescent doom to hear them speak with sincere, cherubic purity on topics that might be a little on the PG-13 side of things.

For instance, here is the conversation I had in the car with Liam as we drove by an establishment, labeled simply as “Adult Store.”

LIAM: “Adult Store.”  Man, I bet that’s the most BORING store in the world!
ME: Uh … why?  Because it wouldn’t have any kid stuff?
LIAM: Yeah!  It would be all grown-up stuff like … jeans!  Yeah, I bet it’s just all jeans.
ME: You’re probably right.
LIAM: Wait.  It’s probably more than jeans.  It’s probably all KINDS of pants.
ME: Maybe they should call it “Pants-a-Rama” or “Happy Pants Kingdom” instead of “Adult Store.”
LIAM: Yeah, they should.  Psh.  How boring!  I bet they don’t have a single toy in there.
ME: I’m not so sure about that.
LIAM: Well, all I know is that I NEVER want to go in there.
ME: Glad to hear it.
LIAM: No, that place sounds too serious.  I just want to go to places where you can have fun.  … Why are you laughing?

On another day it was Sean’s turn to alert my trepidation when he just kind of nonchalantly announced out of the blue, “Boobs are powerful.”  Oh no, I thought.  It begins already.  He’s only four, and yet the mania has taken hold of him!

But I had to know.  So, I steeled myself for the worst and asked, “Why are boobs ‘powerful’?”

Then my boy replies, “Because they make milk to feed babies and make them grow strong.  They’re powerful.”

Oh, my heavens.  I almost cried.  Oh, those sweet boys!  I’m going to relish this time when they are such bright-eyed, innocent, little creatures.  I love it.  But truth be told, I think I’ll enjoy watching them grow into fine, fun-loving, honorable men one day.  I just have to get past that whole teenage-year speed bump of life.  I hereby promise that when the time comes I shall do my very best to be understanding, patient, and calm.  And I’ll sure as heck pick the store when Liam decides he needs to purchase some pants.