Time Constraints

I got home at 6pm. I had about 45 minutes to spend with Mom-ita and M-ito before I had to get dressed for yoga to teach my class. I could feel the pressure building. I had to gather my bags for class, get my bank in order, do a final check on email for pre-registrations, review the sequencing, remind myself to write down the mantra on a small card to carry with me – nothing like a teacher who forgets the class mantra. Mom-ita and I talked while M-ito ate. I could see him watching me out of the corner of his eye, eyeballing me almost.  

We had the usual, “Can I be done now?”

With Mom-ita’s standard response, “Five more bites.”

“But my stomach hurts.”

“Do you want desert?”

“Yeah!”

“Then your stomach doesn’t hurt – so eat two more bites of your dinner.”

Then I added in , “Boy does not live by cookies alone.”

“Huh?” M-ito said, cocking his head to the side – a new trick he’s picked up.

Then when he was done he ran into my legs and hugged me fiercely. “Dad-dito, can we wrestle now?”

“I have to get ready for my class,” I said.

“Pleeeeaaaseeee…”

“I’m sorry M-ito, but I have to teach and get ready for class. I don’t have time.”

That’s when it happened. A switch went off inside of my son and he turned away from me. “FINE,” he said. “If you don’t want to play with me then I don’t like you any more. I don’t like you at all – at all, at all, at all.” He stormed over to the couch and threw himself onto its surface.

“M-ito,” I said. “I have -”

“I don’t like you anymore!” he shouted and started crying, sobbing. He stood up and ran into his room.This was unusual for M-ito and I knew something was wrong. I looked at Mom-ita and she shrugged. But I knew it was because it was another night of me being away. Even after a week home together, both of us sick with bronchitis/bad colds. He could see it was back to the routine of me being away.

“Okay!” I said. “I’ll wrestle – but only for two minutes!”

Mom-ita went to get M-ito and he came out, rubbing his eyes from tears.

“Really?” he asked.

I nodded.

And so the wrestling began – along with the type of giggling that would put a smile onto the face of the most hardened of criminal.  I was a little less prepared for my class that evening but with a little cutting here and there it still went over well. And I got to hear my son laugh. That’s worth millions.

M-itoism: On Race and California

M-ito came back from school last week with some interesting conclusions about race and geography. After his kindergarten lessons on the African American/Black American civil rights movement – coinciding with Martin Luthor King day – Mom-ita asked him what he had learned.

He said he learned about how people couldn’t drink at the same water fountain and how badly black people were treated in our country. “So, Mom-ita,” he said, summarizing, “it’s a good thing we’re white.”

Mom-ita choked a little on her coffee then the next morning talked to his teacher and told her what M-ito had said. M-ito’s teacher was not angry as she understood how kids could hear one thing and translate it into another. She was amazed at his translation though – but then she’s also used to 5-6 year olds and how they take things in. Mom-ita let her know how pleased we both were that they were talking about race and racism in her class.

After the next day’s lesson M-ito came home and told Mom-ita the following, “Mom-ita, did you know that people in California all think they’re better than the rest of us.” 

“Who said that?” Mom-ita asked.

“My friend Jo-elita said that because she went on vacation to California.” 

“Okay,” she replied, and called me to tell me about this new gem from our son.

No Stuffed Animal Necessary

When M-ito was younger, two or three, he was terrified of the subway. Riding in to visit The Museum of Natural History was our big trip from Queens and it entailed two transfers. He stuck close to me (attached to my leg or I carried him) when we went from one train to another and, once on the train, he buried his head into my arms while sitting on my lap. Usually we had to bring a small stuffed animal with us as added protection.

 Saturday we traveled in together – the first time in a while – and it was a very different experience. Now that he’s five and a half he doesn’t need to be in my lap or hide his head – he sits next to me and holds my hand. No stuffed animal is necessary. I watched him look around and people watch, then cock his head to the side, as if he was listening to something.

 “The train rocks a lot,” he said.

 “It guess does,” I said.

 “Why does the train make so much noise?”

 “Does it?”

 He nodded.

 “Probably because it’s old,” I said.

 “Why do people leave their bags and cans on the floor?” He pointed to the floor beneath the bench across from us.

 “Because they’re not thinking about saving the earth.”

 “Why does it squeak?”

 I stopped myself from answering. I listened instead. The train did, indeed squeak. “I don’t know the answer to that. Maybe the wheels need oil.”

 “The squeaking makes me feel like I’m vibrating.”

Now that I heard the squeaking too I noticed it set my teeth on edge. “Me too,” I said.

 “Hey, Dad-dito.”

“What?”

 “Why are there no seatbelts?”

 I looked around and imagined the car’s passengers all strapped in and buckled up – except for the standing ones.

 “Dad-dito?”

 “Because no one would use them,” I said.

 “Why not?”

 “Because it’s the subway and things are different down here.” I know I didn’t satisfy him but I was grateful he moved on.

Why is it …

Why is it M-ito can’t get up for school at 7am every weekday but come Saturday morning he’s up at 6am?Why is it M-ito says, “Just one more minute,” on these very same weekdays when I try to get him up, and “Dad-dito, Mom-ita, wake up!” on Saturday mornings? Why is it M-ito never wants to take a bath but once he’s in the bathtub he doesn’t want to come out?Why is it M-ito loves a food (kiwis, strawberries, oatmeal, eggs) only until it’s in front of him – then he hates it. Why is it M-ito never fights with other kids at school and always does what his teachers say – but at home we fight over brushing teeth, taking a bath, going to bed, eating dinner, putting on socks, putting on a hat, getting shoes on, saying goodbye, saying hello, reading books, peeing, and washing hands before meals? 

Socks

It went on for two weeks. One day, M-ito took off his socks, after I’d put them on – it was over the holiday vacation so I was cutting him some slack – and said, “I don’t want to wear socks.”

Now I thought to myself, yeah, right – now get on your socks. I said, “Put on your socks, please,” and left.

I came back five minutes later and the socks were on the floor and he hadn’t moved. 

“What’s going on? Put your socks on.” 

“I don’t want to wear socks. They’re not comfortable,” M-ito said.

“You want me to put them on?”

“No.”

“You want to put them on yourself?”

“I don’t want to wear them.”

“You have to wear them, so put them on. It’s winter time and you’ll catch cold if you don’t have them on so stop this and put them on.” 

“No, they don’t fit and I don’t want to wear them.”

The socks fit. I know they fit. I checked them. M-ito showed me where they didn’t fit. “Right here,” he said, pointing to the heels.

“So stretch them out.”

“No.” 

It took another ten minutes to get them on, stretch them ridiculously out at the heels and then to get his shoes on over them. This went on every day for two weeks. Every day for from ten minutes to thirty, school day or no school day. After three days of this I realized it wasn’t going to end and I was screaming, “PUT ON YOUR SOCKS!” as soon as he took them off. By seven days I was pulling my hair out. I don’t have much hair to begin with. We were later than usual to everything. Finally, I told M-ito, “I’ll buy you new socks. I’ll get them big.”

“Get them big, Dad-dito.”

I nodded, beaten. I went to two stores and they had no socks. I couldn’t believe it. “Where are your socks?” I asked.

“We’re getting the spring socks in tomorrow,” a sales woman said with a big smile, “so we have none left.” 

“You don’t understand, ” I said. “I have a situation with socks going on at home. A BIG situation. I need socks.”

“I’m sorry, ” she said and disappeared into the stock area. 

I got home and told M-ito. “They didn’t have any socks. I’m sorry but I’ll look for some tomorrow. I promise I’ll find some.”

M-ito looked at me. “It’s alright,” he said. “I’m past that.”

I stared at him a moment. “You’ll wear socks again?”

He nodded.

“You’ll wear socks again,” I repeated, only this time not as a question. “Mom-ita!” I called out to the other room.

“What?” she replied.

“He’s wearing socks again.”

“Thank God,” she said. 

Five-Year Old Wisdom

Mom-ita and M-ito are talking.

M-ito says, “One day I’m going to be six, then seven, then eight and nine – “

Mom-ita interrupts, “I want you to stay five years old forever.”

“I can’t Mom-ita,” M-ito says.

“Why not?”

“It’s nature,” M-ito says.