Watching a Movie with 10,000 of My Favorite People

This past week, we were in Knoxville, TN for Destination Imagination (DI) Global Finals.  DI is a program that teaches creativity, problem solving, teamwork, and public performance to children.

On Friday night, they were premiering James Cameron’s DeepSea Challenge 3-D documentary out in an open field.  They were targeting the right group of people.  The place was packed.  It was an interesting opportunity to observe human behavior, particularly when it comes to crowds.

We arrived about 30 minutes early to see a line disappearing out of sight.  We had come from a different direction and paused, wondering whether to walk to the end of that thick line or not.  We weren’t sure there was a safe place to stand as the line snaked down to a busy street.  We decided that maybe we’d just stand there and wait, not in line at all.

Plenty of other people were doing the same and still more were coming from the same direction as us.  Before long, a new line had branched off in the direction we had come from.  The leaders of this new line were sort of de facto merged into the existing line.  With the sheer number of people present, I didn’t find this to be a problem.  The new line was nearly as long as the original and there simply wasn’t room for all those people to trek past the first line to find its end.

A man in the original line, near the point of the merge, found it quite objectionable.  I caught his raised voice berating the family near him: “The line goes back there!  You need to go back there.  Fine.  Go ahead.  What a great example you are setting.”

I looked at the family, intrigued.  They weren’t moving to follow his orders and didn’t look particularly put out or embarrassed by his rant.  They just stood there.  On the one hand, he was technically right.  It wasn’t fair that they were closer to the gate than all those people farther back in the line.  On the other hand, there were already at least a hundred people lined up behind them.  For them to move would not resolve the man’s problem; it’d just change which people were benefiting from the split line.

When the gate finally opened, a woman started handing out pins to the kids.  As he walked by, he asked for one, actually, sort of demanded one.  She remarked with a wry, humorous rebuke, “Wow, you must be one of the University participants.  Your voice sure is low.”  He indignantly muttered he planned to give it away.  I couldn’t help but think that her non-confrontational rebuke of him had been considerably more effective than his attempted guilt trip of the others.  And also illustrated that any time we get up on our high horse, we are quite likely to be knocked off it.

We merged with the two lines shortly behind him but made it to the viewing area first, since he realized he had left his family behind and had to look for them.  We quickly grabbed seats on the edge of the front row of seats while people with blankets filled up the area in front of us.  It was a madhouse.  There had to be thousands of people there.

The people between us and the screen.

The people between us and the screen.

At first, there was a thin walkway between the ground sitters and us.  People walked through constantly.  The woman next to me began to get agitated.  “If they are going to do this through the entire movie, I’m going to have to move.  I can’t handle this,” she said.  “I’m sure they’ll stop when the movie starts,” I said.  I was frustrated too but her attitude was oddly calming to me.  She was being ridiculous and I didn’t need to join her.

She pulled her chair forward and crossed her legs, thinking it would discourage the traffic.  It did not.  Eventually, she gave up and joined her party on a blanket nearby.  Soon, a family with a towel plopped down in front of us.  (The number of hotel towels and blankets present was amusing).  People still walked by.  Then a group of girls sat down on a trash bag.  People still walked by.  Eventually, as I predicted, the traffic stopped as the movie started.  Some people still moved about but it was not particularly bothersome.

Before that, though, I saw a young boy, maybe 11 years old, plop down a chair next to ours.  He commented to us, gesturing toward the back, “I was all the way back there and couldn’t see a thing!”  He settled into his chair, pleased with himself.

I pointed to the large crowd of blanket sitters that he was now in front of.  “It’s going to be hard for them to see,” I said.  He looked back, disconcerted, and then moved his chair a little closer to ours.  Not my concern, I decided.

A woman and group of boys found themselves trapped in front of us and she asked if the vacated chair next to me was available.  I indicated it was.  She cried success and plopped two of the boys in it and then she and the other two inexplicably found space between us and the towel family.

After some introductory remarks and loud music, with everyone on their feet dancing and cheering, and a huge group selfie moment, we prepared to settle down for the movie.  A young girl was standing slightly in front of me, turning about.  She was looking increasingly worried as it became clear that the lights were about to go out and she was alone.  I could see in her face that coherent thought was gone, replaced rapidly with panic.

I reached for her arm to draw her toward me.  “Do you need some help?” I asked.  She nodded, apparently only needing that level of interaction to snap her back to reality.  She began moving toward the edge of the crowd where I saw a woman waving her arms over her head.  I pointed to the woman and the girl nodded.  Crisis averted.

The view behind us (note the woman with her fingers in her ears).

The view behind us (note the woman with her fingers in her ears).

The movie was loud.  I mean, extremely loud.  I watched much of it with my fingers in my ears.  I had seen how far back the crowd went though and resigned myself.  After all, if you sit in the front, you’ll see well but it’s going to have to be loud in order for the people in the back to hear at all.

A group off to the right was not so relaxed about it.  I eventually heard a hubbub over the movie volume.  People were standing and chanting “TOO LOUD!  TOO LOUD!” in an attempt to get it turned down.  I smiled at the attempt to mob control their problem.  I also smiled at the fact that they were thinking only of their own ears and not of those in the back.  I couldn’t help but think they should move if they didn’t like the volume.

Then the chair dragging child on our left started shouting at them to sit down.  This nearly had me laughing out loud.  Not only did he fail to see that one young boy could not possibly be heard over both the crowd’s chanting and the movie, nor that they were not directly impacting him at all, he primarily failed to see the irony of him trying to help the viewing angle of the people behind the standers while wholly unconcerned about the viewing of the people behind him.

As we approached the end of the movie, I wondered if some people would attempt to sneak out early to beat the traffic.  They did.  Not many but some.  The ones that cracked me up were the ones that stood, waiting for their group, blocking the view in the meantime before awkwardly squatting back down as they realized their group wasn’t ready.

All in all, it was an enjoyable movie.  And an enjoyable opportunity to sit back and watch people in a crowd.  My conclusion was that many people are inclined to get indignant when other people’s action negatively impact them while failing to notice neither 1) how their own actions impact others nor 2) how those people aren’t trying to be a bother.  For the most part, we are a remarkably self-centered lot, we are.

Trading Pins

As I indicated yesterday, we were in Knoxville, TN last week for Destination Imagination (DI) Global Finals.  DI is a program that teaches creativity, problem solving, teamwork, and public performance.

There’s also the notion of pin trading.  Each Affiliate (state or country) develops a pin or a set of pins that commemorates their participation for that year.  Some regions and individual teams or schools do as well.  People can buy pins from their Affiliate, including sometimes grab bags of leftover pins from previous years, and then trade them with people at competitions.

I first experienced pin trading at State this year (it’s not part of the Regional competition).  Last year, Daryl went with his team.  This year, I accompanied him since his team wasn’t with him.  He wouldn’t let me get more than a few feet from him and seemed tentative.  It was frustrating.

It was also very difficult to offload the dozen pins he had from his Region, since the market was flooded with kids hawking the same pins.  The same problem didn’t hold at Globals.  His first trade, he freed himself of one he still had in order to secure a Doctor Who Tardis.  The person was excited to get it.  He quickly offloaded all of them.  If we had only known!

It was also an interesting study in human behavior.  Part of me worries that the pin trading is a huge money making scam of sorts.  Only “official” pins are supposed to be used and they are all made by one company.  Nice tidy profit for them!

But as I watched, I saw a lot of benefit to the children.  They were learning bartering, speaking to strangers, being respectful, assigning value, making choices.  Yes, it’s certainly a money-making opportunity for the manufacturer of the pins, but I think the kids learn a lot from it.  And at our State competition, they separated the elementary kids from the older kids to ameliorate the problem of older or more experienced kids taking advantage of the inexperience of others.

Pin trading at Global Finals is another thing entirely.  It’s massive and intense and takes place everywhere, not just at the handful of designated spots.  And Daryl took to it like a fish to water.  I don’t get it – he was everything he was not at State.  It was a sea of people so thick that I often couldn’t find him when it was time to move on to something else.  But he was hooked.  Looking for that special deal to get something he really wanted.

Pin Trading Tent

Finding your child, who is likely crouched over a table, in this crowd is a challenge!

That was one of the fascinating parts of the process.  Kids would display their pins on towels that they would lay out before each other.  Someone would point to a pin or pins that they were interested in and then the owner would study the requestor’s towel to see what they would accept in trade.  If it was acceptable to both parties, they’d remove the pins from the towels and trade.  If it wasn’t, a counter-offer might be made or they’d apologize and part ways.  Most of the kids that I saw were impeccably polite.

What was interesting to me was that they didn’t all value the same things.  I mean, some things, like the California dragons, were undeniably universally valued.  Yet, Daryl was still able to acquire three of them.  And with trades that he thought were near steals.

Speaking of steals, Divergent themed pins were also popular.  I was sitting with Jane when a girl approached to ask if she was willing to trade.  Jane pointed to her Divergent pin.  The girl studied Jane’s towel and pointed to a Tardis that slides open to reveal “OK DI” on the inside.  I could see Jane’s body begin to buzz with excitement.  She paused for effect and then agreed.  They made the trade and then Jane quietly asked if she could return to the Oklahoma Affiliate Director freely trading the Tardis pins to cheaply acquire another.  I nodded with a smile.  Ironically, the woman was gone but she was still satisfied by the deal.  So the key, as I saw it, was to find the people to whom those pins were not valuable, that is, the people from the Affiliate that had produced them.  Find them and your trade was easy.

Another thing that interested me was that some kids parked themselves at a table or on the ground and let people come to them.  Other kids roamed the tables looking for deals.  I thought that you could probably draw some conclusions about their personalities if you took some time to consider it.  I suspect the sitters are more relaxed, more confident, probably more experienced.  The walkers are more excited, more eager, more concerned about missing out, and are probably looking for specific pins.  The system really needed both types for it to work and there never seemed to be a shortage of one or the other.

We spent a pretty penny acquiring pins ahead of time for our children to trade.  When I saw the benefits though, I think it was worth it.  Besides just the sheer joy they had in the hunt, I saw them gain a certain amount of confidence.  My kids are not shy.  At least, most people wouldn’t describe them that way.  But they do hesitate considerably when it comes to interacting with new people.  I could see them confidently interacting with others during pin trading.  Perhaps it had just become another situation familiar to them.  Or perhaps their reticence has lessened and made them more proactive people in general.  I’m hoping for the latter.

Destination Imagination Global Finals 2014


This past week, we were in Knoxville, TN for Destination Imagination (DI) Global Finals.  DI is a program that teaches creativity, problem solving, teamwork, and public performance to children.  There are several different categories of events, called challenges: Technical, Structural, Scientific, Performance/Fine Arts, Improvisation, and Community Service.  Each challenge has a central problem to solve with particular rules and scoring elements.  Each team develops a skit around the solving of that problem, referred to as their ‘Central Challenge’.  Each team also competes in the ‘Instant Challenge’, a short timed event where they are given a problem to solve and they must work together right then to solve it the best they can.  Teams then place based on a combination of their Central and Instant Challenge scores.

In Texas (I can’t speak for the other states or countries), teams first compete in a Regional competition.  The first so many teams in each Challenge and age division (Elementary, Middle, Secondary, University) qualify to go to the State competition.  Since DI is a big deal in Texas, qualifying for State is exciting.  And that’s exactly what Daryl’s team did last year, their first year to compete.

They didn’t go on to Globals, but his sister, Jane, was enamored by the hype and excitement of State and fascinated by the older teams’ skits.  She declared her intent to participate in DI the next year.  Lucky for her, a friend’s parents decided to coach a team and invited her to be on it.  I was a little bit worried about this.  Daryl loved loves DI.  And it was kind of his thing.  His sister has a powerful force of personality.  It’s not often that he has the opportunity to do something before she does.  I feared that he was always following behind in her big footsteps and now she was taking over something that was his.

It didn’t seem to affect him that way, although he was annoyed when her team picked the same Challenge as his.  Both children loved their team and their team’s implementation of the solution.  At the Regional competition, the Elementary winners were announce with no mention of Daryl’s team.  Jane’s team, however, rocked the house with special awards and a ticket to the State competition.

Daryl insisted he wasn’t jealous, that he was happy to return to State even if his team wasn’t participating.  And it seemed genuine.  He, after all, had gone to State his first year too.  So off to State we went, wondering if they’d go on to the next step.  They had performed so well at Regional, that when we reserved our hotel room in Austin for State, we went ahead and reserved a room in Knoxville – just in case.  The rooms fill up fast.

That turned out to be a good thing.  The girls won another special award at State and qualified to go on.  While everyone else was frantically making hotel reservations that night, we calmly walked to our car and hugged our excited daughter.  At this point, there was no jealousy at all… provided, Daryl said, that we let him go with us.

Global Finals truly is a big deal.  I had someone snidely ask me if it was actually global or just Americans being full of ourselves, kind of like baseball’s World Series.  Well, I wrote down the countries participating as they walked in with their flags and signs during the Opening Ceremonies.  Besides 42 of the states in our Union and most, if not all, of the provinces in Canada, the following countries or territories had representation:  China, Guatemala, Romania, Cayman Islands, Poland, Qatar, Turkey, Singapore, Mexico, Brazil, South Korea, US Virgin Islands, and Ecuador.  We saw indication later that over 17,000 people were in attendance.

It was impressive.

There were three and a half days of competition, each Challenge running a team every 15 minutes all. day. long.  Hundreds of hundreds of teams.

There were also side activities like the Luau, the Duct Tape Ball – where they set a record for the most number of people wearing Duct Tape clothing, a sneak preview of James Cameron’s DeapSea Challenge movie coming out in August, a Passport Party to provide information and food samples from the different countries (rained out by the time we got there), expos of exciting educational toys and fun opportunities, a Graduation Ceremony for seniors, and more.

We had a blast.  The rest of my posts this week will chronicle some of our experiences there.  We went to the Closing Ceremony Saturday night hoping for something great but working hard not to get our hopes up too much.  After all, there were around one hundred teams participating in her Challenge.  Top 20 or 30 would make us happy, her team manager had said.  The top 10 would be posted on the Jumbo-tron.  The top 3 would walk the stage.  So probably we would know nothing about how they had done until the complete results were posted online later.

And then, there they were.

They had finished in the top 10 and they were up there on the screen.  I screamed in excitement and struggled to take a picture – grateful that sleeping Hal had moved his dead weight off my arm moments before.  I began to cry.  No special awards, no walk across the stage, but still.  They were one of the best in the world.

We asked Daryl if he was jealous.  He said no and he seemed to mean it.  He had had such a good time that he was grateful for the opportunity to be there and even, in a way, grateful to experience Globals for the first time without having to worry about a performance of his own.  He plans to return next year in his own right.

DI is a big deal in our town.  I’ve heard people talk about how their teams did before.  I’ve heard the pride as they said they went to Globals.  I’ve heard the pride as they said they finished seventh or twelfth or whatever.  I’d always wondered how they could be so proud of something lower than third.  I mean, really.  If you aren’t getting a medal…?

But now I get it.  Having been there, I now realize that there’s a whole range of things to be proud of.  Her team on the Jumbo-tron?  So many teams sat through that entire ceremony without the opportunity to cheer for themselves.  They went home pleased that they had made it, maybe pleased with how they’d done, determined to do even better next year.  But they weren’t called out.  Our girls were and I couldn’t be prouder.

Do You Like How That Foot Tastes, Dear?


My husband is quite fond of his new-to-him cup that he picked up at the thrift shop the other day. He was sipping tea from it while we ate dinner recently.

I turned the cup to look at the 1776-1976 marker on the back, confirming that it had been part of our country’s bicentennial celebration back when I was a tender two years old.

Setting it back on the table, I commented to my children, “This cup is older than Uncle Aaron is.”

Before they were able to articulate the question, I answered it, “But not as old as me. Because… I. Am. An. Old. Woman.”  Continuing on with my exaggeration of age, I then pointed both fingers at my face and addressing my daughter, said smugly, “Take a good look, because this is exactly how you will look when you are forty.”

“Unless I get plastic surgery. Did you think of that?”

My husband began to cry foul and Jane hurried to redeem herself.

“I mean. I’m sure I’d look much worse than you if I had plastic surgery.”

Surprised realization hit her eyes and then they fell to the table. She picked up her food and muttered, “I’m just going to be quiet now.”

Good idea.

Underwear Escapades

The other morning, Hal approached me with a grin on his face.  And quite a number of stuffed animals in his Batman underwear.  They were all riding in the front, some poking up out of the top of his waistband while others poked out the leg holes.

I grinned at him, called him a very silly young man, and suggested that he go get ready for school.

My husband stopped by later to ask if I had seen.  Jane had apparently found this behavior odd.  After five years with the boy, I found her surprise itself to be odd.

After all, her two little brothers had recently decided to don every last pair of underwear they own.. at. the. same. time.  The layers of fabric on their bums had become so thick that they could barely walk and sitting was a particular challenge.

Yet they wobbled around the house like absurd, skinny sumo wrestlers, shrieking with the intoxicating joy of youthful abandon and the feeling that they had just unlocked some previously unheard-of silly activity.

Needless to say, they were affronted when, looking through a “Guinness Book of World Records” style book, they came across a grown man wearing a record-breaking number of underwear pairs.  “He stole our idea!” Daryl exclaimed.

Maybe this was what drove Hal to shove so many miniature stuffed animals into his pants.  Or maybe, considering the large Batman logo on the fly, my husband had it right.

“Maybe this is how Batman came up with the idea of his utility belt,” he said to our baffled daughter.  “He had been carrying all his tools around in his underwear, but a grappling hook is never a good thing to come loose in there.”

Better Late Than Never

My faith in the public school system, if not in the responsibility and punctuality of my eldest son, has been restored. At the expense of breaking a promise to you, my dearest readers. I sincerely hope you don’t mind.

I was standing in the dining room yesterday morning while young Daryl handed his Dad a piece of paper from the school. A paper that turned out to be a notice from the school cafeteria concerning the degree to which he had gone into debt from surreptitiously purchasing extra bags of chips and cookies with the money we had credited to his account for lunches.

“This says May 1st, Daryl!”

Daryl didn’t seem to understand the significance of his father’s remark.

“Do you know what today is?” …Daryl shook his head… “It’s May 20th!”

“Well, I didn’t get it on May 1st,” Daryl claimed. This, unfortunately, might very well be true. In our eight years of association with the elementary school, we have never found the cafeteria administration to be particularly prompt, nor consistent, in the execution of its money collection duties.  Then again, correspondence from the cafeteria is not the only communique frequently delayed in reaching in our hands.  As we were about to have demonstrated for us.

Shifting his weigh uncomfortably, he glanced up at me and sudden shocked remembrance passed across his face.

“Oh! Mom! I have a gift for you… that I forgot to give you for Mother’s Day.”

“Oh, really?” I asked with a wry smile on my face. “I wondered if the school had really not had you make something for me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, giving me that sweet, shy grin that melts my heart and then topping it off with a big hug. “Let me go get it.”

He ran down the hall and explained on his way back that his teacher had tried to laminate it but the laminating machine had been out of plastic.

“That’s supposed to be a heart,” he explained, pointing to the space between the fingers and thumbs.

“I can tell,” I said with a smile before he bounded off on some other errand.

Well… better late than never. Better recognized briefly than not at all. Better to be his parent than not.


Rhetorical Joke

Last night I learned what a Rhetorical Joke is.

Did you know what a Rhetorical Joke is? Huh? Didya?

I didn’t think so. Let me enlighten you.

A Rhetorical Joke is one where the joke teller doesn’t expect you to laugh. So says my ten year old son.

He made some strange joke at the dinner table about $100 living on the same street as $20. I looked at my husband and asked if I was supposed to have a response to that.

Daryl then informed me that it was a rhetorical joke and no response was expected.

Now ya know. And you’re the better for knowing… right?

Fighting is Just Part of It

“If anyone is a parent of a teenager and isn’t fighting, then either they aren’t paying attention or they are doing something wrong.”

This was my husband’s wisdom shared when I asked him if we were being too restrictive, after assuring me that we were not. We were sitting at the dinner table with the boys, Jane having opted to spend mealtime in her room, curled up on her bed, likely thinking we were extremely unreasonable.

She’s been asking for a bikini. Actually, she’s been asking for a non-tankini two piece swimsuit. She’s perfectly willing (and actually would prefer) to have a very modest lifeguard style top, like a sports bra.

But we aren’t ready for her to show that much skin. And she can’t articulate why she wants to.

We certainly know why we don’t want her to. She’s thirteen, approaching the end of seventh grade. No one would know that looking at her though.

We ran across an old friend, a photographer, who hadn’t seen Jane in some time. His eyes bugged out when he saw her and he said, “Whoa!” – not believing how big she was.

“Will I be taking her picture soon?” he asked, referring to his rather brisk business in photographing High School Seniors. He was shocked to find out her age, insisting that he would have put her in at least tenth grade.

And therein lies the problem.

She may look like she’s 16 or older but she most certainly is not. Her body is much more mature than her mind and certainly more so than her emotions. She is not in the least bit equipped with the skills needed to recognize and properly respond to the kind of attention she would get.

And so we say no.

And she gets angry.

And I feel sad.

And he is oh so right. Teenagers are basically only happy as long as everything is going their way. If anything isn’t what they want, when they want it, how they want it, then they shed any resemblance to human decency and turn into irrational beasts, angry at the world.

Sometimes I just want to give in. I hesitate to say that since she reads this blog and I don’t want to give her incentive to push harder, but it’s true. Sometimes I just want the anger and the glares and the distance to stop. I just want to get along.

But what kind of service would that be to her? What kind of a person would I be helping shape her to be? I’m certainly paying attention but if I gave in, I’d be doing something wrong. So the fights must continue. For now.

Still. I’ll be happy when her brain catches up with her body and rationality and cooperation prevail again.

Mommy Kisses, Revisited

Hal has a thing about kisses.  He’s kind of particular about them. And leery of them.  I first blogged about it in Mommy Kisses – Cheek or Crown way back in October 2012, just before he turned four years old.

Back then, he’d let me kiss him on the lips but not the cheeks. To be honest, until I reread that post, I had forgotten that I was allowed lip kisses. I thought that the situation now was the same as the situation had been then. It’s been interesting to read what I wrote then and compare it to what’s happening now.

For several months now, Hal has refused to kiss me on the lips. Actually, he has refused to kiss me at all and will only let me kiss him on the cheeks. If I move in for the lip kiss, he turns his head to the side.

We’ve been talking about it. I’ve asked him why. He doesn’t know. Daddy has tried to tell him to kiss me. For the most part, I’ve discouraged that approach. On the one hand, it hurts that he won’t kiss me. On the other hand, I don’t want him to feel compelled. But I’d ask every once in awhile. And cajole. Once I did grab his face and plant a big (dry!) kiss on his lips.

One day, he said, “Ok, ok, here we go” and headed in for a kiss. At the last minute, he diverted to my forehead. And giggled. “Ok, ok, I’m going to try again” and then headed in and… turned quickly to my cheek.

Since then, he’s been gradually working on it without me even bringing it up. He’ll announce he’s going to kiss me, then grab my face and kiss first one cheek, then the other, then my forehead, and then… just when I think he’s not going to… my lips.

It’s turned into a rather fun game. And I am, for the first time in nearly four and a half years, completely relaxed about it. I usually just hug him. And then he does his “sign of the cross” kissing routine on my face. And we laugh. And each time, it gets a little easier and a little more fun.

So I’ll keep my strange little kid and his strange little kissing aversion. Who knows what it will be in another couple of years?

What Hal Thinks of Mommy

Only one more post about Mother’s Day, I promise.

This was going to be my first post concerning Mother’s Day, possibly even published on The Day.  I itched to tell the story all weekend but never got around to it.  And then I needed to vent about my stressed-out crummy day.  And then I felt the need to illustrate that I’m not a total crab and can actually notice and appreciate the good stuff around me.  Which then left this one to get written and published last.  Oh, well.

Last Friday was a special day for moms (or some other special someone) to come to the Preschool and have cookies and tea or lemonade with their child.  I took off work early and came by.  Hal was waiting.

As soon as I arrived, he led me to the refreshment table and announced that he wanted tea…mixed with lemonade.  Smiling at the fact that I was serving him instead of what probably was supposed to be vice versa, I mixed his cup and poured me a cup of lemonade.  We each grabbed a cookie and headed to his table.

I sat down and he began to pull items one at a time from the bag.


I had a nice pen with a scented flower attached to the top.  A portrait of the most beautiful preschooler in the room surrounded by a bright multi-colored pasta decorated heart.  A bookmark.  And a dozen different pictures made out of thumbprints, handprints, and footprints.  Several of them with various versions of the “I grow up fast and these are to remind you of when I was small” poem.  I couldn’t help but think to myself that the teachers really should have maybe not had the kids make quite so many similar art projects.  Then again, Hal was plainly proud of each one.

My favorite, by far – it always is – was the page where he answered questions about me.


We’ll ignore the fact that I would have had to give birth to his sister at the tender young age of 8, that I can’t remember when I last had a picnic, much less felt relaxed at one, that he’s never actually seen me play hockey (although I did back before Jane was born), that he drew me as a very rudimentary stick figure when he can draw a mean pirate ship complete with cannons and Jolly Rogers on the sails if he’s interested.

We’ll ignore all that and remember that I am special because I like him.  Yes, yes I do.