The Mama Spot

Pillow Talk: Episode 3--I Think I Caught This Curveball

I sprinted downstairs to share this one.  My poor son is suffering from some sort of allergy-cold nastiness that doesn't seem to be responding to any of the drugs I hate giving him.  Therein lies the inspiration for this one...at least until the curveball:

Son:  Where does snot come from?

Me:  *completely and genuinely excited*  That's a great question!  I've always wondered that, too.  How is it that no matter how much you blow your nose, there's always more snot left in your head?  You know what?  If you wake up a little early tomorrow, we'll Google it!  Great question, son!

Son:   Hey!  Let's look up where mucus comes from, too! *beaming proudly*

Me:  Uh...snot is mucus...I think there must be some organ in our body that only makes snot.

Son:  Uh...what's an organ?

Me:  An organ is a part of your body that keeps it working, like your heart.  (Best I could do.)

Son:  Oh.  I wish I was a doctor.  Doctors know all the parts of your body...I think that you just have a lot of boogers, and somehow your nose turns it into snot.  That's where it comes from...Where do boogers come from?

Me:  Exactly!  Exactly!  I just don't know.

Son:  Um...Mama?

Me:  Yes?

Son:  Why did that lady think she was really a boy and get her body changed?

Me:  *reaching for the curveball and cursing the pregnant man's ubiquity*  Er...uh...Everybody's different.  And, some people in their minds and hearts feel like they're in the wrong body.  Now, go to sleep.

Son:  Mama?

Me:  Yeah?

Son:  I love you.

So...did I catch it?  Or, did I strike out?

Pillow Talk: Episode 2--It's the Law...Isn't It?

Since my mother passed away years ago, my sisters and I (The Syndicate) have made it a point to keep her memory alive for my son through picutres and stories about the time the two of them spent together.  When he was three months old, I was blessed to be able to convince my mother to quit her job at a daycare center and come care for her grandson full-time with me replacing her income (which was criminally low) and doing extra when I was able.

I've often wondered if my son really remembers my mother, or if his memories are just of the tales we've fed him over the past four years.  I got my answer last week during a bedtime discussion about our participation in the American Cancer Society's Relay for Life.

Me:  You know tomorrow is Relay for Life!

Son:  I know!  I can't wait!

Me:  And, you know that Relay for Life is one of the ways we live our family's values, right?  Remember?  "We use our gifts to make the world a better place."

Son:  I miss Grandma.  She used to play with me and feed me and take care of me.

Me:  Really?  For real?  Do you really remember Grandma, or are you just thinking about what your aunties and I tell you?

Son:  No, Mama.  I remember her.  I remember the last time I saw her.

Me:  Is that right? *incredulous*

Son:  I was wearing a red and white shirt.  It was when the TV used to be in the dinner room (which we had converted into a bedroom for her.)  We were watching Rudolph.  You were sitting by the kitchen, and Daddy was sitting on the other side by the two doors.  Grandma was laughing.  I can still picture it in my mind.

Me:  *sniffling*

Son:  Mama?  I'm going to take care of you when you get old.

Me:  You are?

Son:  Yeah!  It's against the law not to!

Me:  Um...no...it's not.

Son:   Wha?!   *incredulous*

Me:  Yeah.  You don't have to take care of your parents when they get old.  Some people don't.

Son:  Well, it should be against the law!