During dinner last night, Mark and I discussed new activities he's going to start, like Cub Scouts, hip-hop dance class and flag football.
"But not those art classes," he told me. I wondered what he could possibly have against art.
"Why don't you want to do that?" I asked him. "They teach you how to draw--and you love to do that!"
He shrugged. "I don't know why I don't want to do it," he said. Then he tapped his head. "Don't ask me, ask my brain."
Ask his brain, indeed. Trust me, I already have a loooong list for that brain of his, starting with "Why do you pour breakfast shakes into the plants?"
After dinner, we went to the grocery store. Mark wore his favorite Pokémon baseball hat, which he told me he calls his "Trouble Hat." (This was news to me!)
"Whenever I wear this hat, I get in trouble two days later," he said. Good to know.
"OK, if you get in trouble on Tuesday, now I'll know why," I said.
But we didn't have to wait until Tuesday. We were in the produce section for all of two minutes before he was causing trouble. He smacked a head of lettuce, and then tossed a bag of carrots, before moving on to a display of precariously balanced oranges. "Knock it off!" I told him, before he could send the oranges rolling all over the place.
He hung his head solemnly. "I told you, it's the hat," he said sadly, as though it had a mind of its own.
"Hey, you control the hat, not the other way around," I told him. "Now go get some bananas."
And as he skipped off toward the bananas, hat in hand, I could only shake my head. Sometimes I think that kid really is from another planet...
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