Dancing Without Rhythm

It's as though we didn't even celebrate Halloween. Well, we didn't. It takes a lot to get us to celebrate around here, but we DID go trunk-or-treating and trick-or-treating. I had the delightful pleasure of "following" behind a lady who "crashed" the church trunk-or-treat she-bang, let's see if I can get anymore hyphenated words in-here. There. Anyway, she kept saying "Trink-or-treat!" and I laughed every single time. Mature? No, I'm not.

Any post within a week of Halloween would not be complete without pictures of Fpido-man and the Petite Lion. The temperature dropped dramatically here in Texas on All Hallow's Eve and well, the 3 year old resident Petoh Pawkoh ended up looking like he was recovering from a bad lap-band surgery. But boy did he have fun. I don't think the wonder EVER ceased for him--to open his bag and get candy dropped in every time. I wish there was some kind of magical holiday like that for grownups. He gets limited on his sugar intake, and sure as heck doesn't get to go knock on people's doors and ask for it, or get recognized as Spiderman every time and then be gladly given a handful of candy. Perhaps the adult version would be something like, "What, your water pump is defective? Well here, how about a new car altogether. One that was made in the same decade in which you are driving it. By the way, that v-neck you are wearing is adorable---could you be any cuter, here, have some Rolos while you wait..." Yeah, I could go for that.

So, Avee spent that night getting cheetos caught in her lion's mane, screeching at anyone who didn't open her tootsie pop fast enough, and plopping down on the nearest slab of concrete to unwrap her most recent acquisition. (This was on our way home when the mane of Avee's costume climbed off her head and tried to eat her face---I have no fear that anyone will ever be able to take advantage of this girl in any way for any reason at any time. Her objectionary screams rivaled the weekly tornado drill sirens)

In other news, I feel that a great big family thank you is overdue to our friend No Cool Story.
A while ago she posted about Abuelita and she's mentioned it a couple of times in her very cool blog. It's Mexican hot chocolate. I like Mexican. I like chocolate. We bought some. It was so good.

I had it for the first time when J was out of town. So when he was home, I said, "Yo J, want me to make you some hot chocolate?" He dismissed me with a wave of his hand. I tried again, "It's Mexican hot chocolate..." His eyebrows raised. "It has cinnamon in it too..."
"Okay," he says, "I'll try anything once." So I made him some. That was two and a half weeks ago. We have two packages of Abuelita in our cupboard (for the lean times) and we've gone through two packages already. Jay's exact quote was, "I can't believe I've lived 29 years without this in my life." I think he said something similar to that when he met me. Just change the age and the word "this".

So, we love it. It is muy bien. I have proof of Avee's love of it, and Benja has nursed two pints of it in a sports bottle, all morning. It goes well with his funsize candy bars and fruity blowpops. We have a really cool hot chocolate maker, which is especially cool for Benja because he can dispense the liquid heaven himself. And he has. So, gracias NCS, and the Mexican culture as a whole.

Oh yeah, and since my life is consumed by talk of Spiderman and Peter Parker, I can't help but include such obsession on the blog.

It took Benja some time to figure out that Spiderman was a superhero and that Peter Parker was his alter ego. I mean "alter ego" in and of itself is a difficult term for a 3 year old. Okay, we didn't teach him that phrase, but we had countless conversations about who Spidey was and who PP was, etc, etc. Well, now he's got it. He knows what things Spidey says, and what things Peter says, and that Spidey can't kiss with his mask on and that Peter can't fly off of the tops of buildings without his suit---or his mojo, for that matter. He knows that Peter is "a man and if you punch him, he'll bleed."

Recently we've been discussing a lot about when I was a little girl. J and I often will say things we loved or did when we were little and Benja has really become interested in that. Conversations often go "Did you like that when you were a little boy like me?" and I'll explain that I was never a boy and won't ever be a boy. Other times he'll ask if when he's grown up and is a girl, etc, etc. And the same discussion ensues. I think he gets it now. However, I've been telling him how Grandma was my mom when I was little. He has just started distinguishing between the grandmas by calling them "The one with golden hair" and "Uncle Sam's mom". He can't be bothered by surnames.

It's amazing how complex things can get the older and older you get. Just a year ago he had no idea that Grandma wasn't everyone's Grandma, particularly not mine. And that the name didn't apply to all nice older women who like to hug and kiss you and read you books. And of course life was always as it was right in the moment. Benja was never a baby and certainly didn't have aspirations of growing up to be a daddy. And the crazy talk of mom never being a boy? Unheard of in aught-five!

So, given all this new information and the things he's processing and assimilating, do you think it's bad that I want to tell him that Peter Parker is actually Tobey McQuire who was also Red from Seabiscuit? I mean, it's my job to keep the boy informed, right?

Posted by Angela on Thursday, November 02, 2006 at 11/02/2006 | Permalink