Nice Job, Chicken Hawk

The other day, as I was cleaning off the table, I accidentally knocked a heavy plastic cup onto the floor. It bounced a couple of times and made a lot of unnecessary noise. Jeffy was still eating his lunch. "Nice . . job. . " he said deliberately, nodding his head slowly and pretending to be disgusted. I looked up at him and started laughing.  He was sitting there, at the head of the table, like some sort of miniature judge, holding a corn dog in one hand and a red Coca-Cola pen in the other. His 8 x 10 American flag that he'd gotten from the grocery store lay across the table in front of him. A few minutes later he was finished eating. As he was leaving the kitchen, he turned and asked "Mommy, what's a chicken hawk?" He loves to watch Looney Tunes. I think he spends a little too much time thinking about the show. . .

Then, last night, as we were walking across the grass on our way to Jeffy's last T-ball game, we happened to pass a Big Daddy baseball field, freshly scraped, and mostly mud, compliments of a recent Spring rain. Naturally, I steered us around the edge and tried to avoid the obvious mess. Jefferson, in true little boy fashion, yelled "Yay! Dirt!" and ran toward it with his face lit up and his arms outstretched. . . : )

Today, he was playing basketball indoors, using the plastic hoop that's set up against the coat closet door. It's really too high for him, totally out of his reach, but he wanted to give it a go nonetheless. . After a half hour or so of unrelenting effort and some success, he felt that he had conquered the game and met his goal. . .at least for the moment. Panting, clearly out of breath, my scrawny five-year-old boy walked triumphantly toward the hall. On his way there, he commented, feigning exhaustion, (because he's rarely ever actually tired), like he'd won the playoffs single-handedly: "I shooted. . . (staggering past) . . I scored." We couldn't help but grin . . .

Kids are so much fun. Laena got me a single yellow rose and a card for Mother's Day. . . Appropriate and tasteful. She is, as she loves to point out several times a day, almost grown, and therefore savvy in these areas . . Not to be outdone, Aleia ran outside, and brought me back a paper cup full of dirt, with 3 half-wilted dandelions gracing it's rim. . .  : ) She had 'planted' them for me. : ) Honestly, does it get any better than this. . . ? I think not. All you people in those pristine, organized offices, those high-uppety board rooms. . . You're really missing out.