|Quinn in Kindergarten|
I am very fortunate in that I actually enjoy my kids. I'm not talking about loving them -- of course I love them. And of course I want what's best for them. I want them to grow up to be healthy, well-adjusted, productive members of society.
What I mean is... I actually like my kids. I think they're absolutely hysterical. They are people I would want to be friends with, even if they weren't my kids. Which, occasionally, gets me in to trouble.
You see, my son Quinn is -- in a lot of ways -- mini me. He has a belly laugh that will crack you up, no matter how grumpy you are. And it doesn't take much to get him going. He's a bit of a dork, a definite non-conformist, has a completely sarcastic sense of humor and is very often cheeky. I absolutely adore that about him. I hope he always stays that way. My daughter is a "goodie-goodie", a rule follower, a people pleaser. I love that about her too, but I find it harder to understand. I guess I have always been, and will always be, a bit of a rebel.
Which is why, when my then three year old saw a picture of Maddox Jolie on the cover of People magazine and said he wanted his hair cut like that -- I said, "Sure!" I guess that it didn't occur to me that the people who ran his stoic, Midwestern, Christian preschool would find a three year old with a three-inch blue spiked Mohawk a bit unconventional. Oh well.
|The muddy nudist|
It's why, when my pediatrician said a little bit of diaperless time was good for your baby, I took that advice completely to heart and raised a nudist. He absolutely loved running around the house naked. And do you know how hard it is to catch a streaking toddler? It wasn't until Quinn turned nine that he finally realized that clothing was not optional.
I have also encouraged Quinn's taste in music. He lists The Ramones, Iggy Pop, Daft Punk and the Dropkick Murphys as some of his favorite groups. He's also been turned on to his mother's obsession with Mumford & Sons. He can sing every word of the Beastie Boys' Brass Monkey. Lemme tell you -- that makes his Mama proud.
Quinn has always been an exceptional student as far as academics but, those conduct grades? Not so much. We'd had trouble with his first and second grade teacher (same teacher -- both grades) and when I moved him to Michigan I was a bit worried that we would have problems again.
Shouldn't have worried.
His 4th grade teacher, when they had to write a short essay about a solid, liquid or gas, totally supported Quinn's decision to write about farts. She thought it was hysterical. She said he simply picked the topic every other kid wanted to pick but was too afraid to.
Quinn loves his teacher. Hmmmm... wonder why? Could it be that he feels his teacher supports his partiality for potty humor? I mean, if you want to get Quinn going on that belly laugh of his, all you need to do is say the word "butt" and he's off and giggling. Throw in a "boobie", "wiener" or "poop" and it's full blown, fall-down-on-the-ground laughing.
A few months back, a good friend of mine, who has not yet been blessed with children, came to visit. Brian has a well-known affinity for Katy Perry's, ummm, assets. He made mention of his crush and was left speechless when my son, my darling little dork, walked up to him and matter-of-factly said, "You know, she has a video where she shoots fireworks out of her boobies. I saw it on You Tube"
God, I love that kid.