The Boy….

Hunting season is nigh upon us, and he’s extremely distracted.  This morning I had to repeat myself several times, and he is walking around the house with a moony expression.  I had previously requested that we put hunting season dates down in my pocket calendar, as I need to keep them in mind when planning our school schedule.  He brought me the calendar and then fiddled a bit with laundry, then with a distracted look said, “Oh, I am supposed to bring you the calendar!” I said he did, and he looked dazed.  “Boy,” I laughed, “you are as distracted and giddy as a girl with a new beau.”

“Mom,” he started to argue, “I don’t knoooooooooooooo-  Oh.  I guess I do know a lot about that after all.  That’s kind of…. disturbing”

I suppose it’s part of:

A. being the youngest of a passel of sisters in a family with a wide age spread and

B. being part of a very pro-natural birth clan

That would explain why, this morning, while my ducklings were waiting for me to print out their schedule for the remainder of this week, as they stood by the printer in the other room- which has been finicky and uncooperative- they kept impatiently running back asking me, “Did you print it yet? Did you print it yet?”- my son chose to use this metaphor to communicate how near I was to finishing my updates and delivering their schedules:

“No, but HER WATER BROKE.”

Updated to add: he continues to interrupt his school-reading with discussions of hunting season. I have been asked five times if he can have the whole week of deer season off. I told him again that he was like a teen-ager with his first crush.  “Mom,” he brushed me off, “I’m not talking about girls.  I am talking about deer!”

When I stopped laughing, he mused, “And anyway, I sure feel sorry for any girl I had a crush on.  I’d be woefully inadequate.”

I did not tell him that the first step in becoming adequate is recognizing that you’re woefully not.  Adequate, that is.  I think I’d prefer we go back to discussing shooting Bambi and all his friends.