This last weekend was one of those ones I was looking forward to just getting though. We didn't have anything AWFUL to do or anything – it was just busy and packed with activities, two of which had the capacity to be Very Awkward, and as much as I enjoy being social with people I do not really know very well, I do not particularly look forward to potentially awkward social situations. The fact that events like these exist tends to cloud the entire weekend – it's not that I sit around DREADING them; more like I sit around thinking of a bunch of other things for which I could drum up buckets more enthusiasm.
The potentially awkward social situation didn't turn out awkward at all, except for the part where we showed up 15 minutes late and everyone had already eaten. The weird thing is that the whole thing was TO EAT TOGETHER, and we had RSVP'd that we were coming, and... I don't know, I figured even with our 15 minutes of lateness, SOMEONE would still be polishing off a plate of potato salad or something, but NO, everyone was COMPLETELY DONE and had moved on to other activities and it was just... well, it was interesting. I guess that particular group of people must be the most punctual people on the planet, because I have NEVER been to a casual function that starts exactly at the appointed time – when someone says “starts at five!” I assume that everyone is arriving at five, and climbing out of their cars or whatever, and ASSIMILATING, and then there is some basic small talk and then the eating and merriment begins shortly thereafter. That was MY impression, of course, and it turns out that my impression was very wrong. But it was fine! Kind of weird, but fine.
Also in the awkward category was something I TOTALLY lucked out of because I slept really poorly on Saturday night (two hours of sleep, I think). Dave volunteered to be the one to take Asher door-to-door fundraising for t-ball. Is there anything worse than going door to door and asking people for money on a Sunday afternoon? It turns out it was good that he went, anyway, because the other kids also showed up with THEIR dads, and I would have hated to be the chick who got in the way of all kinds of potential Man Talk. This is probably my favorite thing about t-ball so far – as adorable as it is watching the games and as fun as it is bleaching white pants week after week (HA HA NO, JUST KIDDING, THAT PART BLOWS), I love that this is an activity where Dave really is the default parent. I mean, I know moms are just as capable as being Default T-Ball Parents, but Asher's team is filled with Default DADS and so it just makes sense that Dave is the one who sticks it out at every practice and stands behind second base at every game while I let Lucy dig through poison ivy and risk getting bit by ticks behind the bleachers. (Yeah, like my job is better.)
Mostly I've just been thinking about the fact that there are approximately 2.5 days of preschool left and then the entire summer stretches out before me. And I would be all, YAY, THE POOL, except I'm pretty sure this is going to be another long summer during which the elder of my two children refuses to put his head/face anywhere near the surface of the water, and I don't know if you know this, but not wanting to actually SWIM in a pool really limits general pool enjoyability. I mean, there is only so much you can do while sitting on the side and dangling your feet in and/or wading in carefully up to your mid-thigh.
The thing about Asher is that no one except Asher himself can change his mind on any issue or experience he is the least bit scared or nervous or slightly edgy about. For example, this child will not attempt – WILL NOT ATTEMPT – to eat a Cheez-It. I know, you are thinking this is a stupid thing to take issue with ANYWAY, and MAYBE IT IS, but you guys know as well as I do that a Cheez-It is just a cheese-flavored cracker. Right? And he is happy to eat cheese, and also crackers, and also GOLDFISH CRACKERS, which are pretty much the same exact thing as Cheez-Its, please let's not argue if you think Cheez-Its are seven hundred culinary steps above Goldfish or anything, I am just trying to make my point that we are talking about DIFFERENTLY SHAPED CHEESE-FLAVORED CRACKERS here. I also realize I am expending a lot of energy on neon orange, highly processed food, but I HAVE A POINT TO MAKE, and SOMEONE IS GOING TO GET THAT POINT EVENTUALLY.
This particularly frustrated me one afternoon when Asher reported that his snack at school was Cars-themed Cheez-Its. Whoa whoa whoa wait wait wait, you mean this child will not even attempt to eat a Cheez-It when it has a mutated-looking LIGHTNING MCQUEEN STAMPED ON IT? Unbelievable! And so I very patiently tried to explain how Cheez-Its and Goldfish are made at the same factory (stay with me here), and they roll out the dough – remember how we made dough to make those big pretzels last week, Asher? Remember? - and then they cut the dough with differently shaped cookie cutters, just like we do at Christmas when we make Christmas cookies! Remember how even though we make reindeer and bells and angels out of the dough, THEY ALL END UP TASTING EXACTLY THE SAME?
Here is where Asher agrees with me – yes, all the cookies taste the same even though they are different shapes! So I continue with my gentle rant-slash-lesson, and cover the fact that a peanut butter sandwich cut into rectangles tastes exactly the same as a peanut butter sandwich cut into TRIANGLES, YES? And Asher is all, yes, I agree, Mom! And I am all, Asher, this is exactly what happens at the Cheez-It/Goldfish factory! They are just cutting out SQUARES for the Cheez-It box, and GOLDFISH SHAPES for the Goldfish box! And Asher is all, YES! I SEE IT, MOM! And then, as I am practically jumping out of my seat in near-victory and offering to STOP AT THE GROCERY STORE ON THE WAY HOME TO BUY CHEEZ-ITS, I make the mistake of asking, “So? Are you ready to try a Cheez-It now?”
Of course he isn't. HE DOES NOT WANT A CHEEZ-IT; HE DOES NOT LIKE CHEEZ-ITs.
So, you know. His head isn't going underwater any time soon, I don't think.