P and People

I should get another shot tomorrow (since the thing was so much more obvious tonight) - but you can kinda see the immense shiner popping up on P's face, above...

I get the biggest kick out of hearing P interact with other people.  And this week has had a couple of good ones....

When the neighbor lady came over to pick up her boys she grinned, "Phoenix is like a story book character."  Me, "Wha?"  Her, "Yes, yes!  He came over and said, "I just smashed these bells by hand, and they have these tiny balls inside.  Want to come over and try?"  Apparently, her boys couldn't get out the door fast enough for this sort of invite. One point for totally random child and his constant cockamamie projects....

We went to the dentist the other day (P was long past due and he'd recently complained about a sensitive canine).  Score for Portland, we actually landed an unschooling father as our dentist!!!  P was (surprisingly) pretty excited for this experience and was such a pal during his visit that the technician kept looking at me in shock and saying six year olds aren't usually so good.  I was chuckling inside at how extensively the child seems to have picked up on social expectations without any explanation and how well he played the game.  I mean, it was full. on. charm.  (Because we all know, darling or no,  he's an expert at bouncing off of the walls too:)  When he was finally chatting with the dentist, he said, "Well, basically, I've been having some uncomfort with this tooth right here.  (Point to top left canine and continue talking with finger still slightly in mouth.)  Basically, I think the enamel is worn off of the bottom of my canine."  The doctor backed up the hypothesis, but assured the Little Man that his teeth are tip top, well used or not :)

What's really funny to me is how he seems to have absorbed some social expectations (be an angel at the dentist), but totally missed others (privacy).  Like with his tush.  Its been red for weeks, since eating some foods he has reactions to.  Strangely enough, it didn't disappear by itself after a few days, and then weeks, so I suggested we see a doctor.  He was adamantly opposed.  We chatted about it occasionally over a period of weeks.  He, staunchly saying that he would go to no one that would prod, poke or pry or give him some shot or something.  (Between his eye surgeries and then that doctor botching my spider bite diagnosis, the child has developed some, erm, opinions :)  We finally landed on a naturopath and he was thrilled with how his visit went.  The drops she gave him to take are kinda timed, so I had to call him away from his neighborly yardtime the other day for a dose.  I was very discreet, feeling tushie rashes might be a private matter for a six year old boy.  Oh, nope!  When he reached the door and understood what was going on, he ran back outside and shouted to his friends, "I'll be right back!  I just have to take some drops for my red tushie!"  Oh the innocence of it all, it just kills me :)

And last week, we went out to dinner.  P has been longing for a pizza akin to Anthony's, rather than the Cali style pizza, seemingly popular here.  We hit the jackpot with Ken's.  Everything was amazing, from the ceasar to the roasted veggies and, most importantly, the wood fired pizza margherita.  I thought we were all super satiated as we emptied our plates.   So, imagine my surprise when the waitress asked how we liked our meal and the Little Man spoke up, "It was good, but I didn't like my pizza as much as I liked my Mama's.  There was a slight fennel flavor to mine.  Her's didn't taste like fennel at all."  The waitress was awesome.  She (after laughing, of course) told P that there is a fennel pizza on their menu and perhaps his was in the oven beside one of those, absorbing some of the fennel flavor.  The child figured she was right.

And last, but not least, is the neighbor girl across the street.  P loves older girls.  Like, l.o.v.e.s.  He has watched her play with friends in the driveway, watched her set off fireworks from his bedroom window, and even met her Mama a few times.  But, alas, he has yet to actually meet her.  And he told me that he wants me to arrange that.  Yeesh.  Asking me to talk to a stranger is about the worst thing he could request.  I find it amazingly, ridiculously painful.  The child seems to be catching on to my lame limits and, when we are in a store and can't locate an item, it is he that marches up to a sales person to ask for help.  Pathetic, I know, but true.  And, honestly, the fact that the child doesn't quite understand social customs doesn't help any.  He has suggested we invite them all over for dinner, suggested we go over and ask them to just come to our house to play, suggested we see if she wants to come play in the sprinkler...

After avidly avoiding all of these scenarios for the last two weeks, my time was running out.  So I suggested we bake something and take it by.  We picked a ripe zucchini, made some muffins and then the child methodically wrapped them in wax paper, a pink bit of yarn and then some gold glitter strands ("I'm just decorating it a bit, Mama.  Think I should add some of my stickers?")  We marched across the street and knocked on the door.  To the child's great dismay, they weren't home.

The neighbor boys came over later that afternoon.  As they headed home, P, ever the gift giver, grabbed the carefully constructed package and handed it to their Mama.  I guess you snooze, you lose :)

Of course, today, he was ready to bake something new and walk across the street again.  Thankfully, for the wussy Mama, we had plans to swim...