My dear, earnest, soulful, crooning neighbor has songs to sing, and notes to play on his guitar.  The music burns within him, and he has no choice but the release the notes, to free them into the autumn air  of his youth.  And it’s possible that he really has no choice but to play al fresco, because his many roommates have probably requested that he not play in the house.  Because he is very bad.  Earnest, and bad.  And I think, because of his sensitive soul, he is dedicated to improvement at times where he won’t bother his roommates.  Times such as 12:30 am, or 2:30 pm.  You know, times when people are sleeping, or not at home.  But guess what, guy?  I am always home.

Yep, I may need to think about leaving the house more, especially since the death metal band across the street started practicing elsewhere, and are no longer drowning out Mr. Sensitive Guitar Playing Guy.

At least when he wakes me in the night, he seems to stop playing after I flash the lights off and on a bunch.  And I have to assume that someday these 70 degree days will fade and it will too cold for plucking the old catgut in the yard.

Until then, there is a soundtrack to my days.

It’s a sad day for America. Balls to the Wall is out of the dodgeball tournament.

1.) Jack was working on an apology note to a friend after dinner today, (hey he wants to practice his writing, I don’t ask for details) and he needed a new piece of paper from my secret paper stash.  Because I was comfortably ensconced on the couch with my Instyle magazine,  I told him where my secret paper stash is: on my desk.  So off he trotted into my office to get a piece of paper for himself.  There was a load clatter and a yell.  I went in to check on him and he was sprawled across the floor on his back.  He said, “Why did you trust me to get a piece of paper by myself?”

2.) Earlier in the evening there was a loud clatter, but I was furiously making pancakes for dinner, so I barely heard it.  Then Jack said to me, “I guess I know what almost 5 year olds do when they knock the syrup off the counter.  They pick it up, before their mommy’s notice the problem so they don’t get in trouble.”

3.) Jack has an imaginary friend, that is a werewolf.  He is about half as tall as Jack and his name is Dingo.

Can you tell what we were for Halloween? I was Medusa, Dave was “turned to stone”, Jack was a ninja, and Luke was a scary monster. My hair was better the third time I did it:

Laura commented that I should have done my hair like that the first time I wore that dress, at my dear sister’s wedding.  People would have found the snakes to be odd, I think, but my hair still would have looked a lot better than it did 12 ago, during that “short hair phase”.  Awful.   And speaking of my short hair, this is the first couple’s costume that Dave and I have done since Fidel Castro and Elián González.  My costume was basically the fact that my short hair made me look like a boy, plus a life vest.  Dave looked exactly like Fidel Castro.  So this time around, as a pillar of stone, he had the problem of people not knowing what/who he was when he wasn’t with me.  But at least he wasn’t a woman, dressed as a little boy, lost at sea, adrift at a party with nothing but sexy nurse, sexy vampires, and sexy butterflies between her and the keg.

I’ll need to go back and check but I think one of my new years resolutions was to do 10 craft projects this year.  And I used to wonder in the back of my little head if I would ever get around to sewing that apron, or finishing that ornament kit that I started 3 years ago. And the answers to those questions are maybe, and probably not. But I think it is important to use your imagination and to be creative; it’s good for you. But is all the guilt about never doing any of the crafts on your list worth the benefit when you finally make something?  And how do you find the time? I’ll tell you. You hang out with a four year old who has an idea for something he wants to make, and he wants to make it right now, so get started immediately.

I’m not sure how this started, but Jack frequently has a plan to make or do something impossible and for a while, my first instinct was to give him boring alternatives to what he wanted to do, or explain why his plan was impossible, but we could do something else fun instead. When he wanted to dig for dinosaur bones, I said, “You could look at some bones in a museum? Maybe in a month, when we have a free Saturday, I could take you?” LAME. Finally, I gave him a shovel and a patch of the yard and told him to dig for dinosaur bones. He was happy, and I realized my imagination needed a tune up.

Because I love the idea of crafts, I had gotten two Halloween craft books from the library, with no real plan or time for any of the crafts. But the night Luke left for camp, Jack was sad and he decided we were going to do some crafts. And we wanted to do them quickly. Since he doesn’t really have the ability to do a lot of the stuff, I have to be fast or he loses interest or becomes crabby. And the last thing I need is another unfinished craft/crabby child. But the speed part is the best part for me, because aside from my occasional lack of imagination, I also suffer from a little perfectionism, but  crafting with Jack has cured that. The first thing we made was a Dracula soap dispenser, that dispenses soap that looks like blood, out of its teeth. I stopped the urge to do anything other than get this made as fast as possible and Jack was thrilled.  I hope he wants to get rid of it now that Halloween is over.

We also made a paper chain ghost (Jack did the eyes), a sock puppet ghost, and a cool Frankenstein head out of a cereal box.  The top of the head opens, and you can hide stuff in there.  Jack drew the face on the Frankenstein, and as he was working on it, he said, “Wow, I sure am working hard aren’t I?”

So after that night, I felt like I had been put through the wringer, and I returned the craft books ASAP, having met my quota for the year.  But I did learn something about parenting Jack; when he wants to build something, just start getting out supplies.

Dave, however, had not had that lesson.  So the  other  night, when Jack said, “I need to build a robot, can I use your tools in the garage, Daddy?”  He said yes.  And you may think that’s because Dave is naturally more supportive and imaginative than I am, and that he didn’t need to learn any lessons, but the truth is that Dave just wasn’t really listening to the question.  Jack said the robot was going to be able to set the table, eat Jack’s food for him, do homework, clean the house, and keep Jack company when he gets lonely.  I said, “The homework machine, oh the homework machine..” which conjured the Shel Silverstein poem into everyone’s head and Jack realized he’d need something the size of a tank.

Well – Dave took the easy way out and offered to do the dishes while I helped build the robot.  I gave Jack some metallic looking paper, popsicle sticks, tape, scissors and string, and it was half an hour of building before Jack wondered, “What   how am I going to bring him to life?”  I suggested maybe taking a picture would do it, if he used the flash.  So he took 80 pictures of the robot and then it was time for bed.

As someone who likes to buy books about crafts, and art projects, and stock the supplies, but never has time, or energy for being creative, Jack is my perfect opposite.  An I think it’s so fun and refreshing to start a project wondering, “how can I bring this to life?” instead of not starting something that you think will never work out.