Black Friday

I did it this year.  The black Friday calling got me, and I went.  Not until 6:30am, but I went nonetheless.  And I have to admit, it was a mixed bag of feelings.

My first stop was to get Harry Potter dvd's advertised for $3.  What a steal!  The store only had one year available and said that each store only received one year.  If I wanted all six years that have been released I would have had to travel to six different stores.  Umph.  Not sure if I was upset about this fact,  or that I fell for the advertisement.  But I stood in line for 15 minutes to pay for my $3 dvd.  Didn't buy anything else.  I'll show them.

Then I waltzed over to Kohl's to find a nice top for Christmas with a little bling on it.  They were advertising most clothing at 60% of, so what the heck?  Since I was shopping for me it was kinda fun.  I got a chance to try on without four little eyes watching me.  I could concentrate.  I usually dislike being in a dressing room because very few articles of clothing fit this body well.  But I was having a joyful experience because I was taking some time for me.  There were corduroys that did not make my rump look like an inner tube.  Fun!  I'll get two pairs!  And I found not one, but two tops I like.  I must buy both then ask DadOfAllTrades for his opinion.  And I actually received some Kohl's Cash to spend next week.  Hmmmm....

Onto Home Dump-o, I mean Depot.  Poinsettias for .99 cents??  I'll take three.  Now, if I can only keep them alive until Christmas.  No tool belt for a little boy, so we must improvise.  Isn't that what Santa has to do sometimes??  Bought the adult version with an adjustable belt, so maybe it will fit.  If not we will venture to Sears after xmas and get a real pair of work suspenders in rainbow colors.  Fun!

Overall, I felt joy during this trip.  I avoided the real crazies that arrive at 3am, but I still got a little of the experience.  Next year?  Probably not, but one never knows.

Thanksgiving Day

 “Be joyful always; pray continually; GIVE THANKS IN ALL CIRCUMSTANCES, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus. 1 Thess 5:16-18

Our day started out with my boys fighting.  The first words I heard, loud an dragging me from a deep slumber, were “YOURE A POOP HEAD AND I AM NEVER PLAYING WITH YOU AGAIN”.  Or something like that.

Unfortunately their relationship did not change in the course of the morning or in the car ride over to my aunt’s house.  This caused me to grab LegoMaster by the hood of his coat and drag him out of the car while yelling “I am SURE that Aunty has a room or a corner to put you two in, and if I have to do that I will personally put you back in the car and drive you home without dinner and without staying the night at Grandma and Grandpa’s”. 

I said it strong.  I said it loud.  And I said it in the driveway of my aunt’s house, so I am next to positive they heard me because an instant later the door opened and folks were saying hello. 

So, instead of focusing on that aspect of my thanksgiving, I will choose to make a list of the things to be thankful for, albeit small on this day.

-I have two healthy, smart, handsome boys that I have been entrusted with.  I am filled with joy at their presence.

-I have a wonderful husband who puts up with my whims.  As the boys were leaving in the car with my parents, I stated that we were going to do some Santa-ing and then see if Harry Potter was playing at a reasonable time.  He did not even bat an eyelash, but turned the car in the direction I asked. 

-I have family that wants to be together on holidays such as this.

-I have friends who trust me.  We are sitting one’s dog, and caring for another’s cats (in their own home, but still…)  The folks I would have watch my dog are few and far between, so I feel blessed to have someone include me on their list.

-Although I had to eat a meal that came from a restaurant on a day when home cooking is traditional, I am grateful that I have the means to eat anything I want, and as much as I want.

-And, most of all, I am grateful for the Lord of my life.  He is constantly showing me his entire splendor in people, places, sounds, sights.  He loves me and He always will.  Thanks be to God for making this all possible. 

I guess my list wasn't so small after all.

The Waving Santa

I apologize in advance for anyone who does these things.  Sorry 100 times.  Amen.

Truthfully, I have never liked some holiday decorations.  I don't like the flashing ones.  Too distracting.  Give me solid lights any day.  I don't like overdone-just an outline of the roof 'otta do.  Maybe a pine roping or two. Bright red bows with it please.

Then I had children and had to change my opinion.

My rugrats have showed me that all the above listed things are truly beautiful to young kids and add to the excitement of the holiday season.  So I caved a couple of years ago and bought one of those inflatables.  Up until that point I had an opinion of take-it-or-leave-it about these types of decorations.  The frugal side of me wondered who on earth would spend up to $100 on one holiday decoration.  Some are corny-like the Santa riding a Harley.  Enough for a giggle, but really, do you want that in your yard?

But here I am two years later with THE WAVING SANTA and his sidekick Freezie, the penguin.  Buzz, my littlest, is so infatuated with THE WAVING SANTA that he asks questions about him for twelve months.  Seriously, he asks if he is sleeping "or that bibernating thing where they go into a cave" in March.   He asks on a clear summer day if we can put him up to check for tears.  He starts being relentless somewhere around the start of school and does not give up until THE WAVING SANTA is dis-boxed and inflated for the first time of the season.  While some of it is annoying, I am enthralled at his love for the huge inflatable red-man.  Why is this the object that he focuses on?  Why not the stocking that delivers him wonderful goodies?  Why not the box of ornaments that he made in preschool (really only last year)?

This year, we have had a warm spell the weekend before thanksgiving.  I decided that the holiday decorations were to be put up before Turkey day because it was so flippin' warm.  Who would want to put up lights when it is cold enough to freeze your digits?  Not me.   So five days before Thanksgiving, THE WAVING SANTA is proudly anchored into our front yard.

Now herein lies the problem.  I choose to celebrate one holiday at a time.  Right now, it is time to be thankful for the multitude of blessings our fine Lord has rained down on us.  It is not yet time to sing Christmas carols.  I know, hey you-don't you swear by getting all your holiday shopping done before the last Thursday in November?  Why, Yes.  Yes I do because I am then in a better holiday spirit without having to go into any retail establishment and fighting the grumpy crowds looking for "that special gift".  But I refuse to decorate for Christmas until after Thanksgiving.  The boys do not understand this nuance in my personality.  They just want to inflate THE WAVING SANTA and turn on the lights (which, for the record, are flashing).

So, for the last four days we have had our lights going and our inflatables inflated.  Quite a turn around, wouldn't you say?

But not one indoor decoration has been  unboxed much to the dismay of LegoMaster and Buzz.   Here I stand my ground.

Up, Up and Away (part 2)

When we last left the balloon crew, Seasoned Mentor just declined the invitation for a flight in an Oh, So Casual way...

Mr. Pilot then turns and looks at his crowd.  He casually states “DadOfAllTrades, hop in.”  My face shoots up at DadOfAllTrades, who is looking at his shoes.  Um, hello Dear.  He just told you to get on board.  Mr. Pilot repeats it and DadOfAllTrades finally gets it.  He tells me later that he truly thought Mr. Pilot was talking to someone else, a crew member from last time that shared his name.  DadOfAllTrades finally climbs in (Oh, you are talking about ME?!?!) and I hand him the camera.  Then Mr. Pilot asks for me.  Yesss!  I was thinking one-at-a-time, please.  But here we go!

I look at the boys.  They look horrified.  You are taking our parents away??  What about us?  But Mrs. Pilot calms them and begins to chatter in a way that only she can do, and they begin to cool off.  LegoMaster checks that we know how to use his camera, and we reassure him. 

Then we are ascending.  My babies are getting smaller and smaller.  I hear Buzz yell “Mamma!  Bye, Mamma!”  I wave wildly.  And we are gone.  Up in the air.  Far away from the ground.  The beauty of this is that one cannot hear a sound.  It is totally silent.  Except of course for a deafening roar of a 1 million btu burner every now and then, but it is so silent I am in awe.  I never thought the world could be so quiet.  There have been moments of silence in my own home that I relish.  Like when the boys are happily playing together using some sort of toy with wheels and all motors are silent, for an instant.  Or when both boys have been gotten to school, on time, with happy dispositions and I walk in the door with three hours of possibilities ahead of me.  But up in the air, one can hear nothing.

Once reality starts to set in, I can hear a dog bark.  Then a lawnmower mowing.  It is like my hearing is coming back little by little.  I look around and start to put the pieces together.  I see the large reservoir, the main water source of a semi large city south of here.  I recognize streets.  I see the school complex.  We float northward and Mr. Pilot points out the home of the gentleman that invented the low energy light bulb.  Just huge, like LA movie star huge and it is just down the street from me.  Who knew?  There are many more swimming pools than I could have ever imagined.   If I really scan the ground, I can tell other people are looking up at us and running to get cameras, or fellow family members.  That is a nifty feeling!  We are bringing people pleasure!

After a few minutes DadOfAllTrades asks what Mr. Pilot is looking for and he answers that he is always in search of a landing site.  Balloons are reliant on the winds.  It is not as though the pilot can fire up the lateral burners and head to the right when he feels like it.  He has to ascend or descend and hope the winds are going to pull him to where he needs to be.  The pilots have always studied the weather patterns before they take off, so he has an idea how high he needs to be to go each direction, but still, they are at the mercy of hot and cold air.  Mr. Pilot explains that he is watching for things like brush burning in someone’s back yard so that he can see what the smoke is doing.  This is absolutely fascinating to me, and I listen as we float over the freeway, hearing honks from the cars below.

Every so often I look down for the boys and wonder what they are doing.  If Mrs. Pilot has anything to say about it, they are sitting with the poodle and cramming their faces with cheese sticks and red pepper strips and drinking root beer.  What a life!

Mr. Pilot states that he is going to shoot for a golf course up ahead.  He says he is going to lower the balloon to see how the wind shear is down below.  Just so we are aware, he says that when we left, it was moderate, so the balloon may “speed up”, or cover more ground.   Fortunately this doesn’t happen and we casually glide over the treetops.  DadOfAllTrades points out that he could touch the tops of the trees and Mr. Pilot says go ahead, you’ll get down faster that way, hehe.  I give him the hairy eyeball and he keeps all hands and legs inside the ride.

Landing a balloon is not like landing other aircraft.  There is no landing gear that must be deployed.  There are no wheels on the bottom of the basket.  Our instructions are to hold on to the ropes, face the direction of travel and bend our knees.  Mr. Pilot states that we will probably bounce three times before settling down.  Bounce?  What?  It is like being the piñata that just got wacked.  The basket hits on one side, the force of the wind on the balloon pulls us back up again, and we whack the ground again.  But we rest this time and stay in position to await the chase vehicle.  I guess that wasn’t that bad. 

Mr. Pilot reminds us not to unboard or the balloon will go “to the stratosphere”.   Apparently, it is balanced with our body weight vs it’s hot air.  If our over-one-hundred pound body leaves the equation, the balance is upset and it must rise to equilibrium.  Science, science everywhere.

I hear a hoot from my left and the rest of the crew comes running through a clearing.  Well, just the strong guys.  Mrs. Pilot and my boys are still in the chase vehicle.   A few steps behind are a father –son team on a large ATV.  They are looking on with interest.  After the formality of asking for permission to land and bring the chase vehicle on the property, it is determined that we must carry the envelope and the basket roughly 250 feet.  While that is not long for a driveway, it is long when carrying something that weighs about the same as a baby elephant.

Here is where Mr. Pilot really starts to sweat.  ATV dude and son have offered to use the machine to “carry” what is heavy to the chase truck.  Mr. Pilot is not convinced but Funny Friend says “oh, what the heck?” and talks him into it.  Really, these balloon contraptions are quite pricy.  I have searched on line just ‘cuz I am of the curious sort and here is a site if you are interested also http://www.aerostatz.com/70-80.html.   Resting the edge of that basket on the handlebars could be a $40,000 mistake.  But everyone is careful and all pieces make it to their home on the trailer.  DadOfAllTrades has longer arms from trying to hold all that weight for so long.

Mrs. Pilot readies the post flight beverages.  It is a tradition to have a glass of champagne after a flight.  This started way back when the first hot air balloons scared the bejesus out of people who had never seen such a contraption.  Remember, this is before any flying invention was ever even thought of.  Think of standing in your field of lavender and something 100 feet tall with a flame comes out of the sky.  The pilots began carrying champagne because no one can resist a glass of alcohol to ease the fear.  So, our post flight drinks are about to be poured. 

Or so we thought.

We are asked to kneel and they –everyone else- stand in a huddle across from us.  The boys drop to their knees immediately.  DadOfAllTrades and I squat and wonder.  Mrs. Pilot reads the ballooners prayer (I think every occupation has one of these).  Everyone grins goofily.  DadOfAllTrades glances at Mr. Pilot, who places his thumb over the top of the champagne bottle and starts to shake it.  We are about to get wet.  Uh-oh.  DadOfAllTrades and I think fast and whisper “Put the boys in front of us”.  Of course, what better way to drive away from a scene then with children 5 and 6 who smell like a college bar? I burry my head on LegoMasters back and get soaked from the nape of my neck to the small of my back.  

 “Cowards get it the worst!”, Mr. Pilot states.  

Up, Up and Away (part 1)

A couple of months ago, as we were reading bedtime books to the boys, we heard the distinctive roar of a hot air balloon burner.  It is loud, powerful and sounds like nothing else I can describe.  We tore open the shade (to see what was the matter) and looked into the eyes of the balloon pilot.  Well, not really, but the balloon was about second story level and hovering over our backyard.  DadOfAllTrades and the boys ran down the stairs two at a time and we all ended up in the back yard.  Quite a sight, as the boys were in their pj’s.  After seeing the balloon hover away without a sound, I winked at DadOfAllTrades and suggested we hop in the car and chase it.  It was not a school night, after all, and we only live once.  So we did, and we met a wonderful couple who told us that we could help them crew for the balloon.  If we helped them twice, we could go up in the balloon.  It sounded too good to be true. 

And for a little while, it was.  We did help a few weeks later.  Pretty cool, and the boys were all abuzz at the task, and I will discuss it at another time.  But as the weeks of the fall became short, and the weather became less and less conducive to flying a hot air balloon, DadOfAllTrades and I began to think that our second time helping would have to come next year.  Oh well, the boys have loved the balloons for four years now. The love was not going to go away overnight.

The lovely couple kept trying to arrange flights and Mother Nature never cooperated.  Until last night.  Well last afternoon-with the time change darkness comes early to these parts now.   Finally we were arriving at their driveway for a flight.  This would be our second time on the crew which meant that next year we would be able to fly.  Whoop!  We said the obligatory hellos to the other helpers and we piled in the Suburban, their bouncy poodle included.

After arriving at a locked gate, barring us entrance to the take-off pad of choice, we could see the pilots brain a-turning.  The winds were going to take us north, so he drove further south and wound up at a cul-de-sac.  We hopped out, gave the boys their “stay on the trailer” instructions, and began prep.  It is kinda neat to keep your eye on the surrounding houses.  As the inhabitants figure out that there is a balloon launching, they run out with video cameras and smiles.  Pretty cool.

DadOfAllTrades and I are on velcro duty, putting the parachute in the top of the envelope (the colorful fabric balloon is really called an envelope) as it inflates.  The pilot is concerned tonight, because he cannot find the correct cord and he trots off into the envelope.  Really, he is inside this powerful balloon that lifted me off the ground as I was trying to do the Velcro last time.  I repeat, he is inside it.  As it is inflating.  I fight the urge to yell “HURRY UP!” because I figure he knows what he is doing and continue to attach the parachute.  I guess he finds it because he eventually comes out like a magician coming out from behind the curtain for the audiences delight.

The envelope finally is full and the balloon is upright.  At this point, the crew is hanging on to the basket to keep that balloon from flying away from the pilot.  He looks to his mentor, one if the crew for the night, and tells him to board.  The seasoned mentor says “no”.  Like, “No thanks.  I have something else to do. No biggie.  I’ll catch you next time.”  What??  The guy who knows the most about piloting a balloon in unpredictable winds is refusing??  This should be a signal to everyone else there that this flight might not be a good idea.  I, however, miss this slight-of-hand “no” because I never can understand social subtleties.

{Conclusion to arrive tomorrow}

Bonding time with Daddy?

Last Sunday, DadOfAllTrades sat down with the boys and watched part of the local team’s professional football game and some of the NASCAR race.  While getting things done around the house is his idea of a good time on the weekends, sometimes stillness wins and the couch becomes his favorite place.  He is really not a huge sports fan, so listening to him answer the questions about the rules of a particular sport is usually all the entertainment I need on such a day, so I park myself on the nearby loveseat.  The boys hover around him like he is some budda to worship.  I can tell Buzz has the call of the toys, but being near dad wins out and he does this stand-up-sit-down thing all afternoon, much to DadOfAllTrades’ dismay.

This Sunday, DadOfAllTrades is trying really hard to pause the tv before the commercials really get going.  This is because we have noticed that the advertisements that are placed in professional sports are RARELY appropriate for five and six year olds.  Such as GoDaddy.com ads with large voluptuous, um….people; and previews for shows such as Living Dead, or something like that as I could not catch the real title for my lunge across the room for the remote.  The images are enough to make me put down the potato chips out of revulsion, let alone show the boys what is out there. 

Dobson, in his book Bringing Up Boys, states that {boys should be kept away from violent and sexual images until the age of reason} or something close to that.  That is, the age when a parent could sit down with them and discuss the real/fiction aspect of the scene, or even discuss how the scene was shot (no pun intended) to make that explosion look so cool.  At our home, that age has not yet been reached.   But it is being forced on us by a 15 second time slot.

LegoMaster is of the sensitive type.  He cannot watch the tractor tipping/combine scene in Disney’s Cars without having nightmares for three days.  He is none too happy about Buzz’s fascination with the Clone Wars series, and has declared to DadOfAllTrades and myself that he will, under no circumstances, play light sabers with Buzz as light sabers kill the robots and he does not want to be “kilt”.  I think he is just unnerved at the power he is seeing on the screen.  He does not like loud.  He does not like fast.  If one would watch NASCAR with him, you would have to turn the volume down to next to nothing to get him to sit with you.  DadOfAllTrades used to turn up the volume at a particular point of the race (if you are a fan, you know when) and LegoMaster used to leave the room.  At least he did until we figured out that he did not have to go to the bathroom, that he was leaving because he was uncomfortable.

I am close to positive that LegoMaster is not the only young boy with these feelings.  Why are networks showing such realistic looking scenes during the day when so many young boys are watching with their fathers?  I am not for censorship.  But when does our society feel this crosses the line?  When do we work together to restrict these images and keep our kids young?  I have heard many a parent complain that we are asking way too much of our kids now-a-days.  That they have to do too much _______ (fill in the blank).  Homework, chores, whatever.   But these same parents guffaw at the funniness of the Superbowl commercials, not realizing that putting funniness with drinking and pretty women has brought our societies’ generalized neglect for the power of alcohol to one of our biggest problems. 

Is saddens me that an innocent bonding time on the couch with a father becomes a stressor to my child.  And that my other child seems not bothered by the images.  After all, shouldn’t a five year old wonder why the actor looks blue and has blood streaming down his face?   Unfortunately, Buzz does not question this, and I wonder if he is already desensitized to such images.  Has he already lost his innocence and rosy outlook on the world?  

Until we find another solution, we will watch football quarters (the team is usually loosing, so why watch the whole thing?) and NASCAR laps with the remote in hand and thank our Loving Lord for guiding one of our fellow humans to the invention of “Pause” on network television.  And not be able to doze on a Sunday while watching the game.

When the brotherhood gets you down

So far this  morning I :

1.) have been accused of trying to burn LegoMaster by giving him a metal spoon for his oatmeal.  "Mom-you know I don't like metal spoons in hot stuff.  It burns my mouth."  For real?  I didn't realize that oatmeal that had been sitting on the counter cooling for fifteen minutes could cause third degree burns in your mouth when using a metal spoon.  I do realize that hot oatmeal hurts skin (I am sure you are also aware of this) and that is why it cools for so long before offering it to my precious boy.  He, however, in his 6 year old mind, just thinks I ignore him.  Hmm.

2.) was accused of forgetting.  LegoMaster also got mad at me because I had not written a note to his library teacher.  You see, it is library day and books must be brought in to school, put in a basket, and taken down to the library for check in.  I did not know that this happens BEFORE library; I am not a student in the class so how would I know??   You see also, said book is important to LegoMaster because the topic of the book is making wooden vehicles.  When he brought it home last Thursday, he showed it to DadOfAllTrades and they immediately began construction, Buzz included.  It has been a pleasure to watch the three of them up to their knees in wood and tools, and I have snapped many a photo of my young-ins with power tools in their hands and goggles on their eyes (safety first!).  They have not finished these vehicles because life has gotten in the way, oh horrors, and they actually had to go to work and to school.  So LegoMaster wants to keep the book.  While trying to explain to him why he must ask to renew the book, he interrupts me, not too casually-more like a "talk to the hand" type gesture- and asks if I forgot to write the note.  Seriously?  I haven't even begun to think where I may find a pen and some paper I am not embarrassed to send to his teacher and I have already forgotten?  Hmm.

3.) cleared the uneaten oatmeal from the table and sent them to school hungry.  In this instance, I actually enforced a house rule we have.  That rule states that if your bottom leaves your chair for any reason other than blood, you have told me with your actions that you are finished with your meal and your plate will be removed from the table.  I had only enforced this rule once before, but it was dinner, they had asked for an appetizer, and then ate too much of the appetizer (it was baby carrots so I guess I didn't care).  No tears then.  And, quite truthfully, no tears today because they had not even realized I had done it.  They were too busy playing with a useless kid's meal toy.  Although, LegoMaster casually asked as he was putting on  his shoes if I was going to send him to school without breakfast.  I confidently said I was going to do just that.  He said "Oh" and went back to getting ready to go.  Hmm.

On mornings like these I feel so under appreciated.  I feel that all the hard work I have done over the past years of being a mommy has been for naught.  All the times I have lovingly enforced rules, or taught how to perform the rule in a correct way, was wasted time.   That I am just some living, breathing robot that must perform her tasks or the house would not function, or at least little boys would miss the bus.  I begin to wonder why.  Not "why -insert any reasonable question here-", just "why?"

Then I look into their eyes as I am helping them zip coats and I realize that the low days make the high days that much better.  That someday they will realize what I have done for them.  It may be when their own kids are complaining and they say the inevitable "I never did that to my mom!  Did I?"  It may be when they go to college and they cannot stand going to their friends dorm room because he never changed his sheets and the room stinks.  Or it may be today, when LegoMaster hands his teacher the "Please allow him to renew this book" note I did write.

Or maybe they will never realize it.  And , truly, that is OK too.

Karate and how not to fight

My boys started karate almost three years ago.  DadOfAllTrades remembered how well it helped his hyper cousin and requested I look into a dojo (fancy word for karate studio).  After talking to an acquaintance who's boy was "trying it out", we took LegoMaster for his first lesson.  He had just turned four.  Now he is a purple belt at the tender age of six and this mother's heart is overjoyed at his accomplishment.

There is an incorrect belief that teaching a child karate, or another martial art, is a sure-fire ticket to sparring on the carpet daily and a visit to the ER monthly.  And with two boys in the house, this could become a problem.  However, this is totally a fallacy.  Karate is about self control, about defense-not offense, and safety.  Our SuperSensei (she is fabulous and I would drive farther than I am driving now to have my boys learn from her) teaches every new student that they are now karate students, therefore they are now on another level.  They must only use their skills when someone else messes with them.  She burns this point home almost every lesson, and has taught them skills that I have never even thought they could understand.

They have practiced calling 911, from a real phone, to a real operator.  (Yes, she pre-arranged this, but what better way to see how your child acts under pressure?  They remember about half of what you taught them, by the way, and hopefully it will be the half that helps)  They have climbed out of a fire ladder from the second story of our house.  They have practiced what to do when they get lost in a store.  They have practiced how close to stay to mom/dad in a store.  Notice I say practiced, not just heard a talk about what to do.  And they know about ten cada, giving them ways to use their side kick and middle block effectively.  But my heart rests easily because I KNOW that they can handle themselves under pressure.  At least the types of pressure that would make most 5 and 6 year olds crawl under the bed.  And I know that pathways for discussion have been opened.

Let me put it this way:

LegoMaster is a quiet boy.  His aunt continually says that I am lucky he is not "all-boy".  I just think he is a small version of his father, separated by about thirty-some years.  He would rather lie on the floor and watch the wheels of some toy vehicle roll, over and over again.  The call of outdoors on a bike happens, he just isn't that interested.  He once sat for five hours in the same place building a Lego set (with wheels, of course).  When he is in a crowd, it is like I am wearing Velcro and he is wearing fleece-ever experience what those two fabrics do in the dryer??  He is shy, an introvert.  But when he steps on that mat, he is a different person.

When he was an orange belt, SuperSensei asked to move him up to the purple belt class (Well, Sensei's don't ask, they tell.  That is what makes them so respected.)  I am thinking I am super proud of my boy for working so hard, and that I am glad he might have found the "one thing he is good at".  This class has other children up to three years older that LegoMaster, so I am also thinking that she may be off the mark this time.  One class, about three weeks later, SuperSensei is taking the class through a cada drill and asks for a volunteer.  My boy confidently raises his hand, goes to the front of the class, and proceeds to lead the class through the cada as if he has been teaching his whole life.  I darn near fell off the couch.  The same boy who refuses to tell his grandparents how well he did at reading is leading a class of older kids.

Sooner or later I will see this confidence translate into his other lives, at school, at play dates, on the phone with Grandma.  But for now, I am comfortable with knowing that he has the skills to defend himself.  And that there is one thing in his life that he is "really good at".

Now THAT is what karate is all about.