A Bug Tragedy and some Comedic Releif from Pittsburghese

After school today, the Moose told me, "I can't have so much fun on the holidays." I asked, "You mean the weekend?" He replied, "Yes, the weekend. If I have too much fun then I can't do school so well."

Sage mama that I am, I asked, "Did you get in trouble today?" With a shy voice he replied, "Yes, a little." "What's a little?" I asked. He responded, "The sensei yelled at me a few times and I cried. I was crying because our kuwagata died." "Why did your sensei yell at you?" "I was whistling when I wasn't supposed to with my pencil cap. I found it in one of my pockets. He took it away from me, but because I walked back to class quietly, he gave it back to me later. He wasn't going to give it back but he did because I was so quiet on the way back."

I clarified, "You were yelled at for making noise when you were supposed to be quiet and you cried because the sensei yelled at you and because your bug died?" His humble response, "Yaah, and some other things I can't remember." He later admitted he got yelled at five times.

The infamous pet bug did indeed die. Precisely when is unknown. Last time we thought it was dead, my husband attempted to dispose of it and the bug frantically began digging to get back into the dark and the dirt in its box. Over the weekend, the Mule took it upon herself to dig up the kuwagata. She came downstairs and announced, "The kuwagata is dead!"

Conversations on death and dying never go over very well with the Moose. I suspected there would be some fall out. For a boy who loves swords and guns and knows the difference between a Roman Legionnaire and a Roman Centurion's plume, death is not a topic to be broached.

What was so fun over the weekend? The Moose got a Nerf gun. It holds six rounds of foam darts with suction cups on the end. Turns out his sister, the Mule, is a Little Annie Oakley, a sharpshooter if you will. This very evening they turned the living room into Fort Mule versus Fort Moose. I noted at least four blankets going past me in the kitchen, several stuffed animal friends, a few pillows, the contents of the sofa, the laundry rack, and several clothing items were strategically hung about for protection along with sunglasses, neck gaiters, ski hats, and an apron. I heard the Mule call out, "Break time!" She tripped over to the piano to play a wee tune. The Moose complied with the announcement though he did interject several times that they should try a sword battle. The Mule politely ignored his request.

At dinner I asked the Mule, "Did your teacher yell at you today?" She looked taken aback. She said, "No. Why do you ask?" I ignored her question and asked, "Did anyone in your class get yelled at today?" She thought for several minutes. The Moose watched her. I watched the Moose. Then the Mule responded, "Two girls and two boys got yelled at today by the sensei." Frankly, I yell at the Moose a fair amount myself. The boy doesn't listen when he is intently focused on something that interests him. He is in that zone a lot, but I love him anyway.

As bedtime neared and the forts were dismantled, the Moose returned to morose thoughts about the dearly departed bug. Luckily, his dad arrived home in time to tuck him in and get him back on track with funny quotes and distracting thoughts. The line of the week? It's from the Pittsburgh Dad: Christmas youtube.com clip:

What do I want for Christmas? You kids to go back to school. That's what I want. Get'cha out of my hair for a little while. 

Pittsburgh Dad on Youtube.com

The Moose, like his dad, thought this was funny. A burial ceremony may be in order for that bug. The Mule offered to dig it out of the box for me, but I really don't want to see it. However, some prayers uttered ceremoniously might help the Moose with the transition. Funny routines and prayers are good things to encourage in a Moose that worries. His Pittsburghese is starting to sound authentic too.

After school today, the Moose told me, "I can't have so much fun on the holidays." I asked, "You mean the weekend?" He replied, "Yes, the weekend. If I have too much fun then I can't do school so well."

Sage mama that I am, I asked, "Did you get in trouble today?" With a shy voice he replied, "Yes, a little." "What's a little?" I asked. He responded, "The sensei yelled at me a few times and I cried. I was crying because our kuwagata died." "Why did your sensei yell at you?" "I was whistling when I wasn't supposed to with my pencil cap. I found it in one of my pockets. He took it away from me, but because I walked back to class quietly, he gave it back to me later. He wasn't going to give it back but he did because I was so quiet on the way back."

I clarified, "You were yelled at for making noise when you were supposed to be quiet and you cried because the sensei yelled at you and because your bug died?" His humble response, "Yaah, and some other things I can't remember." He later admitted he got yelled at five times.

The infamous pet bug did indeed die. Precisely when is unknown. Last time we thought it was dead, my husband attempted to dispose of it and the bug frantically began digging to get back into the dark and the dirt in its box. Over the weekend, the Mule took it upon herself to dig up the kuwagata. She came downstairs and announced, "The kuwagata is dead!"

Conversations on death and dying never go over very well with the Moose. I suspected there would be some fall out. For a boy who loves swords and guns and knows the difference between a Roman Legionnaire and a Roman Centurion's plume, death is not a topic to be broached.

What was so fun over the weekend? The Moose got a Nerf gun. It holds six rounds of foam darts with suction cups on the end. Turns out his sister, the Mule, is a Little Annie Oakley, a sharpshooter if you will. This very evening they turned the living room into Fort Mule versus Fort Moose. I noted at least four blankets going past me in the kitchen, several stuffed animal friends, a few pillows, the contents of the sofa, the laundry rack, and several clothing items were strategically hung about for protection along with sunglasses, neck gaiters, ski hats, and an apron. I heard the Mule call out, "Break time!" She tripped over to the piano to play a wee tune. The Moose complied with the announcement though he did interject several times that they should try a sword battle. The Mule politely ignored his request.

At dinner I asked the Mule, "Did your teacher yell at you today?" She looked taken aback. She said, "No. Why do you ask?" I ignored her question and asked, "Did anyone in your class get yelled at today?" She thought for several minutes. The Moose watched her. I watched the Moose. Then the Mule responded, "Two girls and two boys got yelled at today by the sensei." Frankly, I yell at the Moose a fair amount myself. The boy doesn't listen when he is intently focused on something that interests him. He is in that zone a lot, but I love him anyway.

As bedtime neared and the forts were dismantled, the Moose returned to morose thoughts about the dearly departed bug. Luckily, his dad arrived home in time to tuck him in and get him back on track with funny quotes and distracting thoughts. The line of the week? It's from the Pittsburgh Dad: Christmas youtube.com clip:

What do I want for Christmas? You kids to go back to school. That's what I want. Get'cha out of my hair for a little while. 

Pittsburgh Dad on Youtube.com

The Moose, like his dad, thought this was funny. A burial ceremony may be in order for that bug. The Mule offered to dig it out of the box for me, but I really don't want to see it. However, some prayers uttered ceremoniously might help the Moose with the transition. Funny routines and prayers are good things to encourage in a Moose that worries. His Pittsburghese is starting to sound authentic too.