So, the other day, we drove over to my mom’s to help with a little gardening. Kyra became proficient at weeding, Andrew at planting, and both of them at befriending worms. This last probably added a good twenty minutes to the task. Well, that and the fact Andrew felt compelled to examine each petal of a decapitated flower.
Kids = pokey.
But on to the worms. They weren’t finding any at first, just some centipedes, which weren’t on the cuddly list. Finally, they founds some. Andrew held one up on the trowel he was using and said:
“Hello, my name is Andrew. What’s yours?” Significant pause. “Ah, I see. You must be the silent type.”
Kyra carried one around in her cupped hands. I told her that worms really like dirt (hinting that she should put it back in the dirt). She simply added some dirt to her hand. I finally had to tell her that no, we couldn’t take the worm home, but he’d be happy with Grandma’s new flowers.
She was a little sad about that.
On the way home, we stopped at Target. Andrew spent another twenty minutes in the deodorant aisle. His brand of choice is Old Spice and each offering was seriously considered with much sniffing.
He was intrigued by Old Spice After Hours. He thought it meant that the deodorant would last a really long time. I explained that it’s the sort of deodorant one might wear for a night on the town.
“Oh,” he said. “I’ll probably need that in junior high.”
In the end, he selected Old Spice Pacific Surge. For the rest of the evening, he applied it about twenty times and then proceeded to offer up his underarms for sniffing.
“Got B.O.?” he’d say. “Get deo!”
Why do I get the feeling junior high is going to be a long three years?
Writing Wrongs 
