He’s From Mars

This morning, as our little family of three was scurrying around the house, brushing our teeth and trying to find shoes and making beds, our conversations seemed to keep hitting on school-related topics.

The boy and I were discussing his vocabulary words, and how he needed to finish writing some definitions after school today, and, as he grumbled a bit about it, Hubs shouted out, “I always hated doing vocabulary words as a kid!”

Later, we were discussing the boy’s math class, and the subject turned to fractions, which the boy actually aces. He understands that having six slices of a twelve-piece cheese pizza is far better than having four slices of the same pizza. My boy can manipulate the fractions just fine. Hubs, not wanting to be left out of the conversation, yelled out, “I always hated fractions as a kid!”

Eventually, the boy and I were tallying his weekly reading log, and I commented that he was doing a fantastic job this week of accumulating a mass of minutes spent with his nose pushed into a book. I’m pretty sure that reading would be one of the last hobbies the boy would choose to do; it’s right before “Clean The Toilets” on his list. The boy is a fabulous reader; he just doesn’t choose to read, unless he’s forced, by severe threats, to do so. But, oh my lands! This week, the boy has decided that the Diary of a Wimpy Kid books rock, and he has been a reading machine! I was telling him what a fabulous job he’s done with rocking his reading log in the last few days, and Hubs piped up by saying, “I always hated reading books as a kid, too!”

I looked at Hubs and said, “Maybe it would be easier if you just told us what you actually did like as a kid, because the list of things you didn’t like seems to be rather long and extensive.”

Hubs looked at me and said, “Well, for starters, I liked rocketry. I was really good in my rocketry class.”

“Where did you take a rocketry class?” I asked.

“I conducted my own rocketry class. I was the student and the teacher. And I was very good at launching rockets into space, especially after I made modifications to the store-bought rockets. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that I am a self-taught specialist in this area.”

“Anything else that you loved?”

“Yes. I loved black powder. I loved igniting black powder. And I loved the Pittsburgh Steelers, which eventually turned out to be a stupid choice. I realized the error of my ways when I bought my first blue and orange jersey and switched to a real team.”

People, this is what I’m dealing with at home every single day. And pretty soon, I imagine that the federal government will show up in my driveway in black SUVs, wearing mirrored aviator glasses, and saying things like, “Too many references to explosives in your blog,” and “Wanted for questioning.”

Later, after hearing in detail Hubs’ short list of childhood loves, I told him, “I think that you and the boy should build a go-cart together. Every boy should do that at least once in his life.”

“Oh my gosh!” Hubs shouted out. (Hubs was into the shouting this morning.) “I was thinking that same thing, too! That would be so cool, because now I can buy a welder!”

“What? You do not need a welder to build a little go-cart! Just nail some old baby stroller wheels to a piece of plywood, and run it down a small hill.”

This is where Hubs got the crazed look in his eye, and he simply said, “Woman, you can’t win when you don’t use a welder in your go-cart construction, and your stupid go-cart with the baby stroller wheels would fall apart on the hill!”

And I said, “Hubs, the boy is an only child, and he has no one to race with a go-cart, because no one else has one, so he’ll be the winner, every single time he goes down the hill.”

“That’s not how I operate. I build things to win. And if I can’t win, then there’s no need to even start the building process.”

Why is the Y chromosome so defective?!

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