The Nine Year-Old, Nearly Ten Son continues to be very fond of his mom, thank goodness; of course, I am holding my breath for when he decides I am the Evillest Thing Ever (and I hate you, you never let me do what I want, and all that), but so far, he is super-affectionate.

Especially this morning, while we were walking to school. He kept announcing it was “Hug Time,” and suiting action to words. Then he asked:

“Is there a special day coming up when kids just get to hang out with their moms and be with them?”

My response, and I hope the rue did not ooze from my words: “Yes. It’s called summer.”

My son just used penultimate correctly:

Penultimate:
Main Entry:
pen·ul·ti·mate
Function:
adjective
Date:
1677

1 : next to the last

2 : of or relating to a penult

First, some orders of business:

My migraine went away yesterday evening–only to be followed by some back spasms. Fun! See, if I don’t exercise regularly, the back spasms happen. Since the migraine prohibited the exercising, the spasms felt welcome. But today I exercised and stretched, and the spasms have abated somewhat.

Next, All is Right in the World since Liz Maverick, aka the Alpha Sparkle Dog, is back in New York State. She promises to mock me into editing. I hope to edit soon.

And last–this weekend, the Son, the MIL and I went to the Son’s school’s Winter Carnival. They had Guitar Hero set up for the fourth and fifth graders, and of course the Son wanted to participate.

He took vocals, and chose one of his favorite songs, sung by this guy:

It was “Overkill” by Motorhead. After several false starts, my guy got to sing, and he did an awesome job, getting Lemmy’s raspy, snarling vocals just right.

When someone said what a good job he’d done, he replied, “It’s only something I’ve listened to every night for years.”

My little rocker. Heh.

And here he is:

Okay, so I am so not a woo-woo (thanks, PV!) type of person, but I have taken some yoga classes at my gym lately, and find it really helps with stretching and with quieting my mind, for a little while at least. I took one today, and I can still feel its effects.

It doesn’t hurt that it’s the weekend, the weather is GORGE(ous), and the Seldom Cooks, But When He Does, Yay Spouse just made steak and roasted asparagus (sidebar: have you ever noticed in contemporary romances when the h/h have dinner at one of their houses, they always make steak, baked potatoes and salad? Why is that? Is chicken too meh? Or anything else too detailed? No matter, it’s always bothered me. You ever notice that?)

And tonight the Still Knicks-Attending Spouse is off at a game, the Son is working on his computer (writing a post-apocalyptic story!) and I am feeling–content, almost.

Weird.

I do have things pressing on me, but they’re not making my head buzz the way it normally does.

So yesterday I had a meeting with school, to go over my son’s progress. I came out beaming because his teachers were all raving about him, saying how creative and smart and wonderful he is. In some of the school tests, he scored in the “very superior” range. Except for math, ’cause he’s like his parents like that. I feel better knowing it’s not just me and my biased opinion. Here’s a few examples:

School Guy: He said he liked ghosts and science fiction, and that he wished ghosts were real and walked among us. I asked him who he’d like to meet, if he could meet a ghost, and he said “Rod Serling.”
School Gal: We’re doing a non-fiction project, and he chose to write about dark matter.

((n) dark matter ((cosmology): a hypothetical form of matter that is believed to make up 90 percent of the universe; it is invisible (does not absorb or emit light) and does not collide with atomic particles but exerts gravitational force).

So, yeah, he’s hella smart. And a really talented artist (I’ll upload some artwork one of these days)–if he can’t be a cartoonist, he says, he wants to be a marine biologist.

Megan, Beaming.

Dinner time. We’re eating Quinoa With Moroccan Winter Squash and Carrot Stew:

Me: Do you like it? It’s quinoa. Quinoa is an ancient grain.

Him: What was it like when it was new?

[silence. I continue eating, not realizing I've been totally dissed.]

Other Him: Um, Mommy? Do you know what Daddy meant?

Me: No.

Other Him: He meant that you are old enough to have seen quinoa when it was new.

Me: Oh!

Both Hims giggle.

Him: Mommy, what’s your favorite animal?
Me: I guess either a polar bear or a bunny. What’s yours?
Him: A giant squid and a megalodon. [pause] You know what a megalodon is, right?
Me: Some sort of prehistoric . . .
Him: [cutting in] It’s a prehistoric shark.

Me: Honey, you look sad. You okay?

Him: I am sad.

Me: Why?

Him: I don’t want to go through puberty.

Me: Why not?

Him: Because I don’t want to not like you.

Awww.