Hey Mom, if you were...

I picked Aaron up from tutoring this afternoon, as I do every Tuesday and Thursday. He was in a pretty good mood. Most days this isn't the case because he *HATES* to go to tutoring. He doesn't really need the extra help and would much rather he were allowed to run about the school like a wild Indian instead of doing homework and reading. But it's a great solution for our Tuesday/Thursday after-school care needs -- At $5 per day, it beats the heck outta $65/week for him to go to daycare for those two days.

He was particularly bubbly and chatty, telling me about the make-believe game of Kirby baseball he and two friends made up and played at recess.


Aaron was really proud of his contribution to the game: He decided that he would have "infinite poison balls," his friend Chaz would have "infinite tornado balls" and his friend Brandon would have "infinite icicle balls." Now before you start giggling uncontrollably, there is no anatomical reference here. These are like baseballs, except they pack quite a (makebelieve) wallop and apparently the goal of THIS (fantasy) game is to pelt your opponents with your special (pretend) power balls in order to put them out of commission, which is admittedly nothing like the actual game of Baseball. This, my friends, is the sort of thing you get when three very intelligent 3rd grade boys get together to make up games on the playground.

Aaron has always had a very VERY active imagination and I'll confess that he has been known to exasperate me. A lot. Because he wants everyone to be as excited and involved in his fantasy as he is, and some days I just don't.have.the.energy.

So while we drove along, he chattered on and I nodded my head and interjected the occasional "Oh really?" or "Wow!" hoping that I seemed interested. We were almost home and he had been busily chatting about this mindless game for quite some time (7 minutes, 13 seconds) when he turned to me and said, "Hey Mom?" And I thought "enough already!!", but sweetly said, "Yes?"

" -- if you were a millipede, would you have some sort of mechanism to tell you when a trap door spider was nearby?"

Well, I should hope so! But more importantly, if I were a millipede, I would be able to justify more shoes.