uTopianTurtleTop

My beloved spouse is working evening meetings tonight; after dinner Fingers Hilarity led the two of us in a song of his own composition, a chanting sing-songy melody with strange words:

mailing the dinner song
mailing the dinner song
mailing the dinner song
mailing the dinner song
pushing the dinner song
pushing the dinner song
pushing the dinner song
pushing the dinner song
now you have to pay for the dinner song
stop
stop
stop

We sang together and danced around the living room while a Mozart CD accompanied us (I liked the blend, and Mr. Hilarity didn't mind). We sang several renditions, and after each one, he "paid" me, handing me a slip of paper from a stack of coupons he lifted from the fridge. I might teach the song to my band.

* * *

First day of pre-school yesterday (Wednesday) for him. My beloved spouse took him. He was apprehensive then he jumped right in and had a grand day of it. My spouse had planned to stay with him for half an hour, but she left after five minutes and had to get his attention to say good-bye.

These milestones are hard on parents -- the kid is growing up, bit by bit, preparing to leave us. For him, the milestones are about gaining power and competence and independence -- it's all excitement. For the parents, it's about loss as well as gain, and approaching mortality.

"Time goes faster as you get older; that means either we're having fun, or we pick up speed once we're over the hill."

* * *

The other day my son asked why I wanted to have him.

"Because I wanted to get to know you, because I love you," I said.

He looked sly and pained and thoughtful and said, "But didn't you love Mamu before I was born?"

"Yes, of course I did."

"But you wanted somebody else to love?"

"Yes, that's right."

He was satisfied with that.

* * *

Our last day in Michigan about a month ago, my sister drove us to the airport. My five-year-old niece asked for her favorite song from my sister's MP3 player, "the song about Jesus and Mrs. Robinson."

Fingers Hilarity: "Who's Jesus?"

His cousin: "He is our Savior."

Fingers: "What's a save-ee-yor?"

Cousin: "I don't know. Mom, what's a savior? No, wait, I know. Jesus was the Son of God, and after He died He rose from the dead."

Fingers: "And that makes him special, because other people when they die they don't rise up again."

My sister and I agreed, those were good answers.

* * *

They say the darnedest things!

* * *

At Bumbershoot -- Seattle's overpriced Labor Day week-end music festival -- we heard a good set from Laura Veirs and part of one from Sharon Jones before it was time to go home to bed. Sharon Jones is an old-school soul singer with a hot & funky horn band -- she was hot and I was sad to leave. Laura Veirs sings in an elegant melancholy; on record it's in a high-tech glossy deep sheen; live her music is scrawnier and clearer with easier-to-hear words, which is unusual. The songs neither benefit nor lose from the clearer words; I enjoyed the set.

* * *

Also at Bumbershoot the kid noticed some young people with brightly-colored spike mohawks. "Can I put one of those on my head?" he asked. The next day my beloved spouse set him up, and he loved it, but he hated washing it out at night and hasn't asked for it again since.