Brain Barf

May contain traces of nuts.

Monday, April 16, 2007


My Future Activist has really been on a roll lately.
The dude fascinates me.
He's my expressive language issues boy Twin A, that never fails to get his point across.
He has always been very sensitive and conscious about trees, bugs, plants, critters etc. etc.
He is the first one every spring to spot a sprout, or a ladybug and the first in the fall to help me gather seeds for next year.
He spends much of his free time deep in thought, then comes at me with 3.5 bazillion questions, in which I generally fail at answering adequately.
He is only seven, but already has very concrete opinions about the way things "should" be (and also that he must tuck in his shirt, and button the very top button, no flip flops, but we finally compromised on crocs last summer).

When my sister bought her new house/small farm a few years ago, we came over to help her unload the U-haul, and MFA (my future activist) set out to explore the property. He came back to us in a few minutes, grabbed my sisters hand and led her to a "tree that was getting hurt by a rope." My sister knows her nephew. Knew that not a single box could be justly unloaded, because it was really a crisis to him. She grabbed the ladder and a box knife, they climbed up together and cut out the ropes that were growing into the bark.
The dude fascinates me.
When we rented "Happy Feet" a while ago, there was a clip before the movie about how the ocean was getting fished out or something to that effect. I tensed up when I realized what the clip was about, and looked over at MFA. He was now standing up on the couch, mouth open, fists clenched. It was no use fast forwarding. After it was over he turned to me and says, "MOM, WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?"
I gave a few hopeful suggestions, tried to re-direct him with, "Hey did you see Pikes Market in that clip? Let's go, YAY!"
I fear it's only a few more years until my parental farce is revealed
Did I mention that the dude fascinates me?
Last week, he informed me that when he was older, he was going to find a bunch of land that nobody wanted and he was going to plant a rain forest. And then put a fence around it saying nobody could go in except his family because it was special.
This week, I was sitting at the table chopping up shit for dinner, and he was sitting on the table "helping" me, but mostly deep in thought. After much internal discussion, MFA turned to me with his new Chiclet front tooth and said, "Mom, some people see with their eyes and some people see with their hearts."
I stopped chopping and said, "MFA, where did you hear that?" He said, "I didn't hear it, I've just learned it."
Then the damn onions I was chopping made me start crying (right).
I asked MFA, "how do you see?" and he said, " I try to see with both but it's hard."

I've worried, at times, that he is too "serious" but then he'll sit on his sisters lap and fart, or try to trick his rookie baseball coach into believing that he is left handed, or put the dogs bone in his back pocket and s l o w l y mosey about the house while giggling at his doggy shadow.
I can't wait for tomorrow.



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