Well, Maybe Just One

My boy is going to Missouri with his dad (and dad's girlfriend) over Memorial Day weekend (sniff, sob, don't get me started) to celebrate his other grandma's eightieth birthday. Apparently there's going to be a big birthday bash in the tiny town of ________. I kinda miss these family gatherings; my son's dad's side of the family was always pretty interesting, and I mean that in the best way. I always enjoyed our time spent visiting them; I doubt my son's dad really understands this, as he's said on several occasions that he can't believe he came from such stock. But they're good people, struggling to find their way, as we all are, and they were nice to me. Most importantly, they have a sense of family history, which I find inspiring. I miss them.

Anyway, in preparation for my son's big trip, we went to the store last night and picked up a few items to keep him busy on the plane: an activity book (mazes and connect-the-dots, in addition to coloring), travel-size Play-Doh, a deck of cards (Crazy Eights, anyone?) and a few other things. Today I told the kiddo I wanted to trim a couple of spots on his hair so he'd look nice and fresh for his grandma. "But why?" he asked, "Everyone says my hair looks so nice." Funny boy.

I insisted, and he balked again. "Why can't we just get it done at the shop?" he wanted to know. Because shop haircuts cost about $15, I told him. "That's not that much!" he said.

We'd already had a similar conversation last night, and I'd resorted to telling him how many grocery items we'd be able to buy for $15. For instance, I said, we could buy about 45 boxes of macaroni and cheese at Wal-Mart for $15. Or at least 15 loaves of bread. I picked foods he could relate to. "Mommy," he finally said, "now you're just starting to freak me out."

Today when he once more told me $15 isn't a lot of money, I tried a different approach. Would you rather I step on your toe zero times, or fifteen times, I asked. "Zero," he answered. See? I said. Fifteen is a big number when you think about it that way. I persisted: Would you rather have zero spiders crawling on you, or fifteen? "Zero," he said again. I pointed out that Mommy would rather spend zero dollars on a haircut, instead of fifteen. I couldn't just stop there, though, so to be funny, I asked: Would you rather have zero boogers flicked on you, or fifteen? (Seeing as little boys are all about boogers. Seriously, do not ask. Lately the kiddo has begun ambushing me with super-fun [not] games of "wipe a booger on Mommy." I'm doomed.)

His answer: "Um, one?"

You can see we're very genteel people. ;^)