“I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.”Gilda Radner

Sunday, January 22, 2012

A Magical Morning

This morning, we opened the magic kit Joey got from Santa. He has been waiting for this day since...well, Christmas.

I must begin by saying I am absolutely NOT involved in this "Fun." My husband is a wonderful father, and on Sundays, sets up a science lab in our kitchen. He has given Joey a Science Notebook, and they keep a journal of all experiments, including hypotheses and conclusions. Joey hates writing the long science words down, but I think it's incredibly awesome that Big Joe makes him do it.

It's wonderful, and GUESS WHO GETS TO CLEAN UP??????

(If Joe knew I was writing this, he would indignantly claim that he cleans up every time. Yes, Dear, of course you do.)

Now, Noah is the age that Joey was when science fun began, so he is in on the excitement. The magic kit of this morning is really just a new version of the same old. There are beakers and food coloring and directions to follow to make the "magic" appear. This part kind of bugs me, because I don't want Joey to think that all magic can be explained away by science. I understand the functionality of it here, but in the real world, I firmly believe that there are some fantastic things that simply cannot be SCIENCED. Like unicorns, for example.  And ME.

Anyway. Step one was building a magic wizard hat for Joey, which came from a magic wizard hat kit inside the magic box. I felt bad for Noah, who wouldn't be getting his own hat and who had the mundane job of just adding star stickers to a hat he couldn't keep, so on the DL I busied myself with the really complicated task of making a second hat out of construction paper and star stickers I had on hand (a major plus of being a teacher who stays home this year). He was pretty pumped when I plunked it on his head, and he saw that it was blue--his favorite color. "It matches my eyes," he said shyly. "Thank you, Momma."

Next, Daddy began working on the magic wand. This was a clear tube that Joe filled with water. Then he dropped blue tablets in the water. I saw this from far away, and pulled a Naggy Wife: "Uh, hon?  Maybe that's not such a good idea. I had one of those when I was a kid and it took my brother all of five minutes to--"

"I got this!" Joe interrupted cheerfully, just as Noah knocked the wand from his hands, it clattered to the floor, exploded, and spilled everywhere.

As I wordlessly and patiently sopped up the dye from our light beige tile and grout, Joe moved to the sink to re-build the wand.

"Noah," I heard him say, "you be in charge of the cap while I fill the wand with water again."

"Okay, Daddy!"

I looked up and saw Noah standing furtively in the corner. He had in one hand his wizard hat, and in the other, the cap to his magic wand. Carefully, he balanced the cap in his mop of blond hair. Just as carefully--painfully carefully--he started to place his wizard hat over the cap. I quickly reached over and plucked the wand cap from his head just as he put his hat in place. I quietly set it on the counter in front of Joe and went back to scrubbing our now blue-ish/purple-ish grout.

"Noah, I'm ready for the cap!" Joe flourished his open hand in front of Noah, mock expectantly.

Noah removed his hat with as much flourish, and reached up to the top of his head for the wand cap. His little fingers dug through his hair slowly at first, and then faster and faster as he realized his treasure was missing.

"DAD!" he cried. "DAD! I DISAPPEARED IT!! I have so much power."

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