The Unflappable Bennett B. September 27, 2004

Tonight Ben and I put together invitations to a fall talent show for his writing club.

Just within that statement lies two examples of Ben’s surprisingly strong leadership skills. I say surprisingly not because Ben doesn’t seem capable of leadership, but because even as an adult, I’m not sure I could (or would) pull off the feats he does.

1.) Starting a writing club. One afternoon Ben was looking through “American Boys Handy Book” and read a short paragraph describing a literary sketch club. From that seed of a concept sprouted his idea to form a writing club with his friends. He delighted in making up the rules, deciding who he’d invite, figuring out when they should meet, etc. If it had been me, the idea would have stopped right there. But not Ben. He asked if he could have three friends come over after school every other week. We agreed reluctantly, hoping his friends wouldn’t laugh at such an idea, and if he did manage to get them on board, we assumed that the group would fizzle out after a couple of meetings. The first meeting, I set out some fun snacks for the kids and Ben took it from there. They actually listened, participated, produced written matter, and ended with a wisely planned fifteen minutes of play time. Almost two weeks later, Ben reminded me that it was time for Writing Club again. I called up the parents, they dropped off their kids on the assigned day and it continued that way (about 8 meetings) until the end of school. With everyone’s crazy vacation schedule, I convinced Ben to take the summer off (though he wasn’t thrilled with the idea). Sure enough, the first week of school Ben asked when we could start Writing Club again. Tomorrow will be our third Writing Club since school started this fall.

2.) Dreaming up a talent show. Sometime during the summer, Ben came up with the idea of hosting a talent show featuring his Writing Club members. I’m not sure what spurred the thought, but he decided that a Halloween theme would be perfect for this event. During the heat of July afternoons, he’d sit in the cool, dark guest room testing out songs he deemed suitably spooky. I was thankful that he had a creative diversion to pass the time and never imagined that he would actually want to carry through with his plan. When will I learn? Once this boy has an idea that he takes a liking to, he just doesn’t let it go. He kept inquiring about whether we could do the show, and we kept telling him that we just needed to get through his birthday first. He waited until September 22 and started in again – not pesky, just quietly, patiently persistent. So how can you argue when your child wants to host an event as original as this? Tonight at dinner we picked out a date and started making plans for an informal get-together with his friends and their families.

What gets me about Ben’s endeavors is not just the undertakings themselves, but his confidence that he can make them happen. He never questions the plausibility. He never wonders what other people will think. He’s never concerned about having everything figured out before he sets the gears in motion. He just assumes that the world around him will be as excited about his idea as he is and he gets to work making it happen.

I still can’t decide if he’s youthfully innocent or wise beyond his years, but it’s a special joy to be able to admire my child.

Half-Way There September 21, 2004

The other night at the dinner table Brian made me cry. He pointed out that Ben’s impending ninth birthday put him at the half-way mark to 18 years old, when he’ll presumably leave home.

Now, when Ben turned six, I had a small emotional crisis as I realized that he was a third of the way to 18. I was struck by the fact that there is no do-over in parenting – that period of his life was gone, never to be repeated. The stages that I had been so eager to be done with (drooling! potty training!) really were done. As much as I’ve always enjoyed being a mother, that realization helped me to savor the small moments more. Like walking under umbrellas together during a light rain. Or responding with a yes each time I get asked, “Hey Mom! You wanna see…..” Or sitting in the guest room with him while he practices piano. Or showing up for another (insert school event here). Because all the times before when I was in such a rush to move forward with my agenda, he was moving forward with his own – growing up. It helped me absorb the fact that there will be plenty of time later for my own goals and selfish desires, but during the short time when I’m able to make an impact and be close to him I’m going to be there in the moment, loving him.

So, as much as I had reckoned with the swift pace of his growth, I was still surprised that he jumped from six to nine so quickly. Nine! He’s well on his way to becoming a young man. I can’t, and don’t even want to, imagine what the teen years will hold. The seemingly universal horror stories about attitudes are hard to fathom when I look upon our current happy relationship. I have hopes that we will be the exception to the rule, but I’m steeling myself for the day when he first scoffs at me.

But as it stands currently, the great thing about being Ben’s mom is that no matter what his age, he continues to delight and impress us. We feel incredibly blessed to be his parents, so thankful to be given the task of raising this amazing boy.

Ouch September 17, 2004

Last night Ben and I were planning a short trip after dinner to do some errands. Knowing my weakness for Target, Ben campaigned for a stop there so that he could buy another pack of Showdown baseball cards. These cards aren’t just any old baseball cards, they are actually part of a baseball card game that he plays. And they really stick it to you for that extra functionality – $3.69 for one pack! But Ben is a sucker for the anticipation of which elusive all-star could be lurking in those silver packages and will plunk down his money without hesitation to find out. So as we got ready to leave, he dumped out his baseball shaped piggy bank and scraped together a couple of dollars and some change into enough to cover the cards and tax.

We had a great time with our shopping and wrapped up our Target trip with a stop in the baseball card aisle. Ben evaluated each package and made what he thought was sure to be a good choice. Since he had cash in hand, this was one of the rare times that I actually had him pay for his own purchase instead of him giving the money to me and me just adding it to our cart. I melted as I watched him dig through his little pouch of change and count out the right amount to give the cashier. I paid for our purchases with our Target card and felt like a cheater after watching him labor over each coin. We loaded our bags into the car, he got buckled in and then ripped open the package with great anticipation.

By the time I had reached the first stoplight on our journey home, he had come to the sad conclusion that 5 of the 8 cards were duplicates of ones he already had. My Mommy-heart ached for him. I was mad at the greedy corporate game developers that would charge such an outrageous amount for so few cards (hardly the old-fashioned experience of baseball cards) and how stingy they are with the big-name player cards. I questioned my own judgement for letting him buy them in the first place. But mostly I was just sad that his hopes had been dashed so mercilessly. From the front seat, I expressed my sympathy for him several times. Characteristically stoic, he denied any disappointment. I wanted somehow to fix this for him, but both he and I knew that wasn’t possible. We rode the rest of the way home in relative silence, letting this hard life lesson sink in.