Tales of Q

I started to pack Q's size 3 clothes because he's growing out of them. The task seemed obvious to me, but I quickly learned that he wasn't quite ready to give them up. The mind of this child will never be easily dominated. I realize that of course, but I completely underestimated the secure attachment he had formed to his clothing. He rejected the size 4 lot out of hand, in favor of the ones neatly folded, organized and packaged, ready to be given to cousins. I have, at least three times, found all of the clothing strewn on the floor with Q right in the middle looking for a specific shirt or pair of pajamas. Each and every free minute I've managed to eek out this week has been sucked up by (surprise!) another pile of clothes on the floor needing to be picked up. (Admittedly, they are no longer neatly folded and organized.) Thankfully, however, I think we've finally had a break through. Yesterday, he started rummaging through the "new" clothes instead. He was convinced that he wouldn't be able to find anything worth wearing, but my trained eye spotted the ringer right away. A navy blue polo shirt printed all over with tiny tools - saws, wrenches, screwdrivers, hammers, tool boxes and belts. Literally, this shirt could have been made just for him. Then, I remembered some shorts and, oh look yes there are the socks, too! I pointed out the tiny hammer engraved on the button of the shorts, and helped him to see all of the things he had overlooked on the shirt. He bought it. He held up the shorts and touched the button - his eyes slightly glazed in amazement, "a hammer" - he insisted on wearing the entire group immediately, and never looked back. At least that's what I thought. I was sure that I had ALL of the size three clothes tucked away. He's fast, though, and tricky. He had FOLDED and PUT INTO HIS DRAWER a Buzz Lightyear sleeper that I have been trying to get away from him for not less than 3 months. It was the first thing I pulled out, and now I know that it will be the last thing to go. We've had it since T was 2 years old - at least 9 years. Q has been wearing it since long before it was far too big and at this point it is a full 6 inches too short in the legs. Somehow it still fits in the body, and so "it fits". When I asked what pajamas he wanted to wear, he said "Butt Lightyear" to which I protested that he didn't have any warm Buzz Lightyear jammies. . ."Yes," he says "right here." Lo and behold, he was right. Now, I just have to make a plan and work it to perfection. The sleeper gets washed and then goes right into the middle of the pile of other clothes which then goes directly to the car and over to my sister's house. We'll see. Q has long since proved himself much more intelligent and sneaky than I will ever dream of being myself.

Lately, Q has been taking the small bags of chips that I get for school lunches and opening up about 5 of the same variety. He puts them in a big pile on the kitchen table and smiles proudly to himself and says, "These are MY chips." I'm sure he's only saying what he truly believes. He WAS at Costco with me when I made the purchase, and he did specifically ask me to buy the variety pack of chips. I suppose it only follows that the first chance he got, he'd open up as many as he could - everyone loves it when they get new things. He thought I was buying the chips FOR HIM. They are HIS CHIPS.


Q spares nothing and no one. If I can keep from being a "house burning down" statistic on the 6 o'clock news I will consider myself as having been the benefactor of one of God's most gracious miracles. If the child makes it to adulthood - we'll know without a doubt that many armies of angels have been assigned as his bodyguards. One mother is simply not enough. He would probably be best served by 5 mothers working independently of each other to assure his safety. He's just that kind of boy. Like the velocirapters in Jurrasic Park II - when you look in his eyes, you can see that he's working things out. Smart, curious and dangerous, that is my Q. If I ever allow myself to forget or even play down his nature, he will quickly remind me.

Yesterday, all I had to say to D was, "Wow, Q has really been in rare form today." It's been nearly 4 years. We know what that means now although it does little to quell the frustration. I find myself laughing more and more because crying doesn't help much and as difficult as this is, he's just so darned cute. I will wait patiently for the next surprise. I know without a doubt that I won't have to wait long at all.