Friday, March 25, 2011

People Dressed As Bugs

I don't know why I'm procrastinating this week.  Usually when I get this off of writing, I post a huge photo montage and everybody's happy.  But that's problematic, since I couldn't tell you where the digital camera is.

We took Jack along with us to see Cirque du Soleil last weekend.  This was our second Cirque experience, and we saw Ovo.  And the missus LOVES her some upside down contortionist trapeze artists a zillion feet up spinning 27 plates on both ears.  I think my impression from the first show (Corteo) still holds for the second:  I can't remember being more entertained.  In the fullest sense.  Like maybe in an older sense, if you get me.  It's truly a spectacle.  And spectacles are fun.  That time, we got 2nd row, jewel-encrusted seats from the Cinnabar Mines, but this time we sat up with all the unwashed (on our own dime) in what turned out to be good seats.  So I've bought back a small amount of self respect by swinging my own boletos.  Go figure.

So Ovo is all about bugs.  And Jack likes bugs.  The Dude was pretty fidgety after the entr'acte, but ended up sitting through the whole 2.5+ hour deal.  We asked him afterwards what his favorite kind of bug-performers in the show were:  "Ants...  I an ant."

An ant?  If you mean unstoppable, dedicated, hard working and clever in achieving your (unknowable) ambitions, then yes, son, you are an ant.

Hi, I Have A Factoid
The kid is getting a bit more bold around strangers lately, and is now regularly talking to them (I hesitate to use the loaded term strangers, but when the shoe fits).  Majesty told me he cruised up to a little boy at the local lye-berry the other day and said, "Hi, I have a rock!"

His descriptions of the world around him are getting more involved, too.  Which is weird.  Most times, I just slog through my day, doing whatever I'm doing without really giving it a second thought.  You might, too.  But now, I've got my own Howard Kosel doing the rundown on my every activity.  "Daddy is driving, and Jack is riding, and Mommy is in the passenger seat!"  No one really calls shotgun "the passenger seat" around our house, but he soaked that up from somewhere.  No telling.

A Sweatshop of One
As the sentences lengthen, the attention span does, too.  H.M. got him to move four boxes of diapers, a box of wipes, and a box of Kleenex from the kitchen to our stairs with no reminding.  If you know Jack, you know that's as ridiculously impressive as riding a unicycle on some fishing line above people's heads.  If you guys haven't looked into using your progeny as illegal and scandalously cheap child labor household help, it's just brilliant.  Next up is home repair.  Is it wrong of me to slip the Home Depot "1-2-3" book in with his Curious George yawners?  Is it?  I can't wait until he hits Basic Home Wiring.

Okay, So the Wood Part Is Inedible?
Oh yeah, one last thing.  So everybody at his little school got Popsicles as a treat one day.  Uh, yeah, no nap that day...  Anyway, some of the kids had no clue how to eat the things.  His teach said everybody looked to their MacGyver expert, Jack, to show them all how.  Cannot BELIEVE my kid knows more about junk food than, well, anybody on the planet.  There are some tough, tough parents out there.  C'mon, guys, Popsicles = America.  Believe it.

I leave you with a pastoral pic of The Playgroup Posse chowing in the peaceful park.

Ciao, ragazzi.


Donna said...

Jack is super-duper-smart. Really. Also- how can kids not know about popsicles? We use them for all type of bribery and definitely for all mouth related injuries- or really any injury for that matter. Ours are sugarfree and taste awful- it's really just colored water- but my kids think it's the most special thing in the world to have a Pah-sicle (as Mr. T. calls them).

El Comodoro said...

Oh, now wait just a minute. If you're going to go, go big. Don't sugarfree it.

The 'free' or 'light' part is not in the saccharine but in the infrequency of enjoyment, if you get me.

Give those little dudes sugar. Just not all the time.