We have a fish. One of those red fighting ones. His name is - wait for it - Lizard the Turtle the Fish. Or Lizard the Turtle for short. A little background here: Cas's first pet experience was one day long, when we saw a little turtle crossing the road, pulled over, and brought him home to our little plastic wading pool. Cas took every pain to ensure Lizard's comfort ("mom, I'm taking really good care of him!"), giving him a rock to sit on, toys to play with, nice cold hose water... Cas came into the kitchen asking, "mom, where's the turtle food?" and was baffled by my negative response. Anyway, his name was Lizard the Turtle, and we decided he was sad because he missed his family, so dad and son took him down to the creek and let him go, and he was happy, and swam back to his house and his family. A first taste of summers with boys, which I savored delightfully! But the fish is Cas's true first pet, to which he says, "Mom, I really, really, really love having a pet," with deep sincerity and a crumpled brow, followed by a flash of a smile, a nod of the head, and sometimes a wink. Oh, and then a request for two or three or four or five pets, ranging from a mouse to a guinea pig (like Winny) to a giraffe to the favorite, a dog. A little black dog, like Lucy, my sister's sweet cocka-poo.
Cas is more and more apt to make up stories, spend his days caring for certain stuffed animals, and innocently stretch the truth a bit. "I made it up, mom!" Here is one of my favorite stories, coming out of his obsession with being big and growing bigger and taller and stronger, as I suppose every boy deeply desires:
"I will grow up to outer space. I will be a giant soon, and I can't get my head back down to the ground cause giants can't do that. My head and my face will be in outer space but my body is staying down here. My toes and my feet are going to be way down, and I can't get through doors. I am growing, growing, growing so I don't fit inside any more. I will be a giant and grow up to there (chimney top) so I can reach it, and I won't see you or Jake or dad anymore."
mom - "I hope you don't grow that big so I can't see you anymore!"
"But I want to grow up, up, up so my face can go to outer space, and the moon and the stars and outer space. I want to see that stuff, mom! .... One day you can go on a rocket and I will see you (pshhhew) flying by."
Another favorite was one morning when we were in the back yard, and I was pulling weeds, and Cas was a doctor. Jake was busy throwing balls, I'm sure. When Cas is pretending to be something (usually a hero), he must be addressed as that character, and I am "Miss Rachel." Anyway, I was focused on the weeds, and whacked my head on a low cherry tree branch as I stood up. I called for the doctor, and before I turned around, Cas answered in a pretend-voice, "but I can't help you, because I don't have three hands!" I looked and he had his dr. kit in one hand and a big stick in the other. Apparently both were too precious to give up. A minute later, he did come and look in my ears with the knee-knocker, and pronounced with a sigh, "that's all I can do."
I was gone the evening this one took place, which Jay will probably tell the rest of his life: Jay put the boys to bed and retired to the bonus room. He came down a while later and noticed the back door was open. He found Cas running around in his underwear chasing lightning bugs! Then Jay discovered the real surprise - Cas had pooped in his underwear. He then proceeded to step in it during the tricky process of taking off said soiled underwear. (I must insert here that due to my EXTENSINVE experience in this technique, this part of the story has never happened to me.) You should have seen the look on Jay's face when I came home!!!
That's all I have time for now... Jake's many tales will be recorded another day!
No comments:
Post a Comment