Friday: an end to another week.

This week, Friday ends Father’s Day week. Many shows focused on Dads, including CBS Sunday Morning. During an interview with Bill Gates, Bill said, ‘I aspire to be like my Dad.’ Based on Bill’s comment, I believe it is common boys want to be like their Dads, and girls want to be like their Moms. Makes sense.

Well, I am so very glad I had boys. Moreover, I am so very glad I married a good man. I think I am a good Mom, and I believe I have some admirable qualities. Still, I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief, because my boys are more likely to aspire to be like their Dad than they are to aspire to be like me, their Mom. That’s not to say I don’t have to worry about my actions or the example I set before my kids.

The more I think about it, my boys (assuming they are heterosexual, of course) will probably look for girlfriends that have qualities mirroring me. Hmmm . . . interesting. Oh, and the fact that I will one day – possibly – be a mother-in-law?! Mwahahaha . . . Oh the power!  She better do her best to make me like her.

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Fireflies. Yes, this past week, my boys and I went hunting for fireflies. With the agreement the fireflies would be let go the next day, I told the boys they could keep the fireflies in their room for the night. (Safely contained in a cup with a lid, of course.)

The next morning, the boys woke up and sat around with their fireflies. At some point in the morning, Charlie went to get his milk out of the fridge. While we were eating breakfast, Joe went to the fridge to get his milk. “Why is this in here?” He asked, as he pulled Charlie’s cup of fireflies out off the fridge.

“Charlie!” I yelled, fearing the fireflies met a cold demise. “Why did you put your fireflies in the fridge?” Apparently, when he went to get his milk, he had too many things in his hands; so, he put down the fireflies (in the fridge) in exchange for his milk. I opened the lid and I noticed that most of the fireflies were not moving, though one large firefly was moving slightly.

Because the container had been in the fridge for at least an hour, I was not optimistic; still, in an attempt to ‘defrost’ and save the fireflies, I took the cup o’flies outside and placed it in the sun. Happily, within 30 minutes, the fireflies were active again. And, later that day, the boys let the fireflies go – all still alive and flying.

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This week, as I drove through various subdivisions, I noticed several kids outside selling various things from their driveway. I saw kids selling water and lemonade, and I saw a group of kids having a mini-garage sale. I remember lemonade stands from my childhood. Seems a rite of passage, trying to make a little change by selling something from your driveway.

As for me, I’ve always been a strange kid. And, my attempt with a sales stand was a pretty good indication of how strange I was as a kid. What did I try to sell? Worms. Yeah, um, I didn’t make any money that day. Hmm . . . I wonder where Joe gets is fondness for worms and bugs? Perhaps he’ll have a bug stand in our driveway one day. May he have better luck with sales than I did.

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Charlie went to the doctor for his 4yr check-up, this week. The poor kid had to have five shots. Five. Before he received the shots, he was asking everyone he saw, “Are you going to give me a shot today?” And, because he was asking the wrong person, the person could answer honestly, “No.” However, when the last nurse left us in the patient room, Charlie became increasingly nervous. “Why are we sitting here still?” He asks. And, then I broke the news to him.

The crying started as soon as he received the sad news. And, he was still whimpering when the nurse walked in the room. My heart ached for him. I remember my childhood shots. I remember starting the tears as soon as I saw the doctor press the button for his assistant. All he had to do was press. the. button. WAAAAAAAH!!!!!

During the shots, I held his hands and tried my best to reassure him he was going to be OK. Seeing and hearing Charlie cry and scream broke my heart. Like selling things from your driveway, seems getting shots is another type of rite of passage. I believe in the immunization practice, and I believe I am doing what is best for our boys. Still. Shots suck, and watching your children get shots sucks more than getting a shot.

Thankfully, the boys won’t get shots again (baring any unforeseen incidents and accidents) until their 11th birthday. Coincidentally, Joe asked me this morning, “Mommy. Will the shots hurt as much or less when I am 11?” Poor kid. His next shot is in 6yrs, and he is already concerned. (He takes after his Mom.)

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While driving to the Optician’s office to pick up Joe’s new lenses for his glasses, we stopped at a red light. Apparently, Joe was admiring the trees along the side of the road.

“Mommy!” He exclaimed. “Guess what I just saw?”

“What?” I asked.

“A caterpillar.”

“You were able to see a caterpillar in those trees?” I asked, wondering how he could see something so small from across the way.

“Well,” he began. “I have eaten alot of carrots this week. Can I have more tonight?”

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