Ramblings of an 11 year old mind

(First published on my other blog over @moms.fortwayne.com “Will Settle For Chocolate”  http://moms.fortwayne.com/?q=blogs/post/ramblings-11-year-old-mind)

moms.fortwayne.comIt was an endless wait in a doctor’s office, one that ended up taking us hours upon hours before the night was over. I was tired, cranky and hungry. That’s a bad combination for a toddler, and apparently not so great for a mom either. My son, however, was full of bottomless energy and observations. He was the one we were there for. A mystery trigger was causing him to break out daily in hives, and for once they occurred when an office was open. I rushed him to Redi-Med so someone could put eyeballs on the hives versus just looking at photos. 

There was a point in time when my son was quiet, shy and barely spoke a word. I was so concerned about this we had him tested and he was put into speech therapy. If only I could have snuck a peek at the future, I would have stressed less and soaked up the quiet while I could. I say this in the sweetest and kindest way possible, but honestly, there are days my head is ringing and my ears hurt.  This boy NEVER stops talking, now. EVER.

It’s not just that he talks nonstop, it’s the mind-numbing way he switches from one thing to the next. It’s hard to keep up. My brain is not as young as it used to be and I am not sure some days I have what it takes to really absorb all the things he says and appreciate them all. What do I mean? In an attempt to amuse myself, and my husband at the same time, I texted my husband Drake’s stream of thought, as he spoke them, word for word. Here’s what I mean…

“It would be awesome to have a million dollars. Wonder if I will ever win a lottery. Probably not, because we never buy a ticket. You need to do that to win, ya know. Hey, we could buy a ticket. Just a thought.” I shook my head no.

“I don’t get why when you sit on a chair, when you get up your butt print stays in there,” he said pointing to the chair across from us, where a gentleman had just stood up.  I didn’t explain it. He was already moving on.  

“Why do people have to be mean?  It’s kinda mean to be mean,” he noted as he rocked back and forth on his haunches in the chair next to me. He sniffed his fingers, “Hey, my fingers smell weird.” Big HUGE sniff in and, “Wanna smell my fingers?” He offers them to me, wiggling them in front of my nose. Ah, no, buddy. I don’t. Thanks anyway.

“Do you know if the store is open when we are done, ’cause maybe you and me can go do something after this … we haven’t done that in a while.” I was already thinking to myself, please let us get done with this while the pharmacy is open, because I wanted to do this doctor/med thing in one run. I knew that was NOT what he meant. I just nodded at him.

“Did you notice there is construction across the street?  I didn’t till just now. Huh. Weird.” I nodded.

“What if I fall asleep here?” (He’s on Benadryl and it’s a logical thought.) “What if we had to sleep here ’cause the wait was so long the wait went over night,” (which was also a legitimate thought since we were 1.5 hours into our two-hour wait to see a doctor.)

“Did you ever notice that they bring kids down stairs during tornados? They do that at school. They bring you downstairs so that instead of flying away, buildings could just fall on you. I don’t think this is the best idea for surviving a storm. Buildings are heavy. You could die.”  I don’t even attempt to address the reality in any of this. I simply nod again.  

“Ooo, if there really was a Sharknado…” I say NO. Just NO.  He moves on.  

“If a parent was on a skateboard, if they hit their face on the ground and knocked out teeth, none would grow back. Kinda like you, only yours weren’t knocked out. But if they WERE, it would be the same, you’d have no teeth.” He giggles like a little girl. He amused himself with this thought of me toothless and on a skateboard, and I suppressed a need to choke him. Why would he find this amusing?  Huh? UGH!

But then he said this:

“Why do terrorists exist?” (I glance at the TV on the wall and note that this was not completely as random as it seemed) “I hate that. I hate THEM. I know we shouldn’t hate people, but I think God makes an exception with terrorists. Can’t we just have a world with no terrorists? It would be way better.”  I told him the world would be a better place if we let him call the shots, and I believed it with my whole heart. For all the talk, he is really an amazing kid with a big heart. “Yes it really would be. I know it,” he replied matter of factly.

Just when you think your mind is going to turn to mush with the craziness of a 4.5 hour trip to the night clinic, something is said that makes you realize that this kid of yours is pretty incredible, and he may be growing into an amazing young man.


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