David Weekly, #76, Thanksgiving Edition

I asked David if he wants to see art, and he says, as long as they have a park there. So we went to the Temple Terrace Arts Festival, so he could see some art, and all he wanted to do was go to the park. I should've known. He did see some drawings and things by other children, so he got a little bit in. I asked him what the different things were, and he was able to identify them, except for a few of the more abstract ones.

David sings, "We will, we will...rockin'..." I ask him where he heard this, and of course, the answer I get is "I don't know!" I figure it must be at school, because I can't imagine where else he would have heard it. It's just funny to hear him singing it at random, out of any context.

He is also capable of giving me driving directions. He tells me he wants to go to the yellow park. I don't recall the yellow park, not immediately anyway, so I ask if he knows where it is. He says he does. So we get in the car; I drive. I ask, at each turning point (stop sign, traffic light, fork in the road), which way? He says, Left. Then we get to the traffic light. Which way? He says, Right. "Now which way?" I ask. He says, "Drive that way for a while." But it's only another block, and we're there. Too bad the park was closed. So we went to another park, with the bumpy slide. At this park David ends up with two different little girls following him around. He wasn't really aware of the first one, but he made contact with the second, actively encouraging her: "Come on! Let's go slide!" or whatever he was wanting to do. Sometimes she'd follow and other times, not.

David embarrassed me in a way that I've never been embarrassed before. We're at the grocery store checkout, and he points to the three men in front of me, saying, "Those are boys." If only it were that simple. Because they're grown black men, and we're in the South, you can't say such a thing. Even a little boy. I just play dumb: "I don't see any boys, just grown men." I figure out after a few minutes of correcting him that he simply means, "not girls." All of this is played out in front of one very disgusted man, another who is understanding, and a third, the cashier, who isn't really paying attention. The two in front of me were either in their late 40's or early 50's, and unrelated, as far as I could tell. I just apologized quietly to the more understanding man, as the disgusted man just left, and I didn't have a chance to say anything to him. The cashier was more amused than anything. I want David to be color blind, but not insensitive to color at the same time. So this was a lesson in that.

Playing the "Blue's Clues" game, David tells me he's going to write his sissy's name. I ask him, "What is your sissy's name?" His reply? "Sissy." I ask him who Colleen is. He says, "Colween is my sister. She lives far away. Like my mom." The reason all of this came up is because I tell him he's going to see his mommy this week, on Saturday. He gets excited, "What today is it?" I tell him, "Tuesday." Then he walks off, counting off the days until Saturday. Every day he asks what today it is. I tell him it's one day closer to Saturday, and whatever the day is. And we go through the days of the week again, just to be sure. He says he wants to see her, because he misses her a lot. We're flying out on Saturday, to arrive at the St Louis Airport at 12:30 CST. He's going for Thanksgiving, and will be staying for 2 weeks, until Saturday, December 5.

Friday we went to the doctor's office for his second H1N1 shot. (And he's 42.5 inches.) He wanted to watch the needle go in his leg. He asked the nurse if she's going to poke him. She fibbed and said she's going to give him medicine, which, while technically true, didn't answer his question. He's been anticipating this shot. "That shot hurts," he says. Of course he cried, for a few minutes. But then it was over. It's been a condition of doing good things, like getting more dinosaur tattoos, particularly the stegasaurus tattoo. In addition, I bought him new shoes, since he's been saying that his shoes are too small. When we went to the shoe store, we found out that his feet haven't grown, that his shoes still fit. I bought him the next half size up anyway, and he wears them now. And they glow in the dark!

Lastly, David's hair is getting long. I ask him about getting it cut, and he says he wants his hair to be like his friend "Puriel" (I have no idea how to spell this child's name), who is black, and has his hair cut very close to his scalp. He says that he and Puriel are the same. This is very different from John Robert, who is the boy that David fights with, every day without fail. I've really had some discussions with the people at Gabriel's Glen about this, and what it boils down to is this: David and John Robert behave like brothers, in that they really like each other, until they fight like cats and dogs. I've told David to stay away from him, and when he does, it's okay, no problems. I've also discussed this with my sister Rachel, who works with children David's age, and she says that this happens from time to time, where there happen to be a pair of (usually) boys who will love each other and then tangle. And there's really very little you can do about it, short of pulling one or both of them out of the class/playground/whatever, so they don't interact at all. I talk to David about it, too, and work with him at home. It seems that it's going to be a slow process, because his fighting with anybody like this is totally unacceptable.

Have a great week, and Happy Thanksgiving. :-)