A Little Something "Extra"

For a long time now, my husband and I have talked about having our kids in an activity.  For several years our eldest has been in some sort of therapy - and that was our "activity".

Now that he's done - we wanted the boys to be part of a team.  So, we decided on an after-school Running Group for Boys, offered through the school.  This seemed like the best solution because, (1) it's running, which is physical, (2) it's a team - a group of boys all about the same age, from the same school, yet it's not so much a team that my eldest will have a social meltdown, and most importantly (3) it was offered on the only day, Wednesday, that I have free to make it happen.

When we told the boys about it the Sunday prior to the start, my youngest was fine, and my eldest - had a nuclear scream-cry tantrum.  Basically, why did he have to do it?  We are the meanest parents ever.  He's going to use his money to hire a lawyer and sue us to not make him join the run group.  He hates running.  Why?  Why? Why?  This went on for the next two nights, to the point that I was ready to say, Forget it.

The Wednesday of the first Run Group, my eldest had a rough day in school - so at the end of the day, the teachers had a mini meeting with my son and myself to discuss the day.  After a few minutes of chatting, he burst into tears and said, "I don't want to run!"

Sometimes, I think it would be just as productive for me to bang my head against a wall.

Not caving in, I marched my boys (thirty minutes late) to the Run Group - where my children proceeded to immediately join in the insanity that is ten boys ages 8-10 running around in a confined space.  Within ten minutes, my eldest announced, "I don't like Run Group, I LOVE Run Group."

I went off in search of the nearest wall to bang my head. . .and then to go see if Starbucks would add a little something "extra" to my coffee.

What goes on in my kids' heads?  Why did this have to be such a struggle?  What did he imagine Run Group would be like that he was so upset initially?  Maybe I need to be adding a little "extra" something to their morning OJ?

On the other hand - what is going on in my youngest son's head?
The other day, I coordinated and chaperoned a local fieldtrip, for my youngest son's 3rd grade class.  We had been learning about the businesses and our city, so we took a fieldtrip to the bank.
I had taken my eldest son and his 3rd class on this very same fieldtrip, to this very same bank, two years prior.
Two years ago, my eldest son's class spent a ridiculous amount of time in the safety deposit vault room.  They were stuck on the fact that the tour host banker mentioned about the room being fire proof, so people left their valuables in these boxes.  Fire proof?  For the next 20 minutes, the kids wanted to know if the room was safe from hurricanes, tornadoes, flooding, tsunamis (because North Carolina is known for it's tsunami season) - then they started combining disasters, "What if there is a hurricane AND a tsunami?"

So, heading into this year's fieldtrip, I felt prepared.  We prepped in advance.  No need to worry about natural disasters kids!

We get to the bank.  I'd been emailing with the Tour Banker (same lady as two years prior).  We could handle all the natural disaster questions.  We were ready!
Not for this group.

"What happens if you lose your key to your safe deposit box?"  (what is it with this part of the tour?)  "Why do they have to drill it out?"  "How long does it take to drill it out?"  "What kind of drill do you use?"  "Will it go faster if you use two drills?"

Seriously kids?  We've been studying banking:  checking, savings, loans, interest!

"Have you ever been robbed?"  "How long would it take for a robber to drill in?"  "If there are two robbers could they do it faster?"

Then, from my son, "How long would it take the police to get here?"  "What if someone wants to drill through the foot thick safety door to the deposit boxes?  Could they do it before the police get here?"

"What are you planning?" I asked him.

Walking away, with a sly smile, he said, "Nothing."

Clearly looking distraught, at the thoughts racing through my head - namely that I will have a future baking cakes with nail files in them, the assistant teacher tried to comfort me with, "Maybe he will be an architect, planning how to make things more safe."

Or maybe, we all need a little "extra" something to survive parenthood.
I'm going for a run.