[the scene: giving the Son a bath. Yes, he still likes his mom to be there.]

Me: Can you wash your face?

Him: So anyway, the value of the creature in defense mode is blah, blah, blah (Yu Gi Oh).

Me: Face. Washing?

Him: And the monster’s value is tripled, blah, blah, blah.

Me: Can you wash your face?

Him: (singing) Delayed Reaction Man!

[face washing commences]

Yikes. So over the weekend we had a birthday party for the soon-to-be 11 year-old, featuring a game of Capture The Flag in the park followed by a viewing of The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai.

Fun was had by all except the titular birthday boy, who got aggravated by his friends. Inside my head, however, I was thinking, ‘what else would have happened? They’re obnoxious 11 y.o.s, like you, only I am not obligated to love them.’

And then I went out with the Alpha Sparkle Dog on Saturday for sushi. Which was lovely.

Yesterday I was worn out.

And today the 11 y.o. has a half day, which means I have to leave in, like, four minutes to go pick him up. He had a really hard time getting to sleep last night, so he is worn out.

Anyway. Both of us are going to chill at home in the air conditioning (thank goodness we put it in!) and then have a celebratory dinner out with the Hardworking Husband And Father.

You’ll notice there is no writing scheduled; I hope to return to it soon, but meanwhile, have to suss out hte summer sched.

So there’s yesterday’s happy agent news, and today is the news that the Very Smart Son got into his first choice of middle school, Mark Twain.

Not only that, some of the middle schools have you test for a talent; in Mark Twain’s case, he tested for creative writing/journalism and art. Creative writing was his first choice of talent, and he got into that, scoring 92.7 out of 100.

Yeah, I’m really, really proud.

So last night, during Tub Time, the Son finally got something off his chest about the books I like to read:

“Honestly, Mommy? Some of those paranormal books have really simple, kind of silly plots.”

Yes, he’s 10. And he’s not wrong. So why do I love them and read them anyway? Clearly, there’s more going on than the blurb on the back (and that’s where is info stems from, I’m not letting him read any of these books. Not yet, at least). There are a lot of things I love in paranormal books:

The bending of rules in the Real World.

The rewriting of New Rules in the New World.

Fun tweaking our standard ideas of werewolves, vampires, etc.

Romance between two different species, and what that means to both of them. Sometimes this is more played out in books than in others; I like it when it’s not just accepted that one or the other of them (usually the human, if there is one in the equation) will change over to the other side. Compromise is a hard concept to get across in a novel without having your characters appear wishy-washy, and some authors do it really well.

High moral stakes–a lot of paranormal characters are Saving The World.

Lots of creative sex–and while they’re Saving the World, they’re doing it a lot.

And, finally, these new creatures are my Superheroes–I’m not reading graphic novels or comic books, but these characters are larger-than-life, endowed with superhuman powers and therefore are capable of Saving The World. That’s good to know.

So this morning my son shared the three things he’s most looking forward to as he gets older:

–watching Eddie Izzard
–reading The Watchmen
–drinking wine

Yeah, he’s our son.

At the Riskies.

And, in case any of you doubted my guy’s ability to be both hyperbolic and kind of a good writer–this is from a piece he wrote recently (and he even spelled ‘maelstrom’ right!):

“I was in the Gettysburg Museum, and was silently crying my heart out in a maelstrom of anguish and depression.”

The piece then goes on to describe how buying a red plush teddy bear helped assuage the anguish. Because, you know, red plush teddy bears do such things.

I love you like the jubilant eyes of the wonderful, mysterious octopi,
you help me in life through and through (like the protective mother of a cockatoo).
You make me happy, as happy as an iguanadon, and I love it that I get to call you Mom.

Today I sent in the middle school application. My son chose the school that is farthest away from our house, requiring a close-to-an-hour bus ride. It is a super-challenging academic school, and I was honestly surprised that my occasionally lazy child would want to go there. But he does. He thinks, in his words, that he will get “an excellent education.” Yeah, but you do know there’s massive homework, right?

So that part of the year is done, and now we wait for the testing/auditions (yup, auditions to get into the school–he wants either creative writing or art, it’s kind of like choosing a major, only for middle school), and then more waiting, and I think we find out where he got into in April.

Onto the next fun: Holidays! And I’m still riding the 21 hours of sleep I got over the weekend, so it doesn’t seem that daunting. Give me a few days.

Megan

Too busy, not to mention insanely dull, to post actual words. But I did down/up load some pictures, so I thought I’d share: