Lost in Space

Two posts in one day.  Yes, I got reminded of something yesterday so here it is:

Ditty needed a skirt for the Grandparent’s Day program at school.  All the middle school girls are required to wear skirts and all the boys must wear ties says Mrs S, the music teacher.  At least according to Ditty’s intel.  Since she hates wearing dresses or skirts, this is most likely correct because she wouldn’t put herself into a skirt if it was in any way avoidable.

So after getting to the bedroll ministry late (darn public library online catalog-who knew they had so many knitting books), I told the kids we would go out to lunch before skirt shopping.  Yes, poor BooBoo was dragged along for the trip.  I asked them first if Burger King was okay, since it is close to the outlet mall and Ditty had insisted that her friend said to shop at Old Navy (oh brother, peer pressure here we go-although I don’t mind their clothes). 

They agreed to Burger King and then something in my brain prompted me to suggest Space Aliens.  Maybe it was the $5 lunch specials that I remember seeing advertised last summer (too bad they no longer offer them), but anyway I offered to take them there and BooBoo jumped at the chance.  I think it’s his favorite place to eat.  Definitely not mine, but we got there three minutes after they opened and had the place almost to ourselves for about half an hour.

We had some good dinner conversation going.  I’m surprised at how well my kids converse at the dinner table.  I was taught as a young child not to speak at the table (yes, really-but that’s a story for a therapist) and I’m still not comfortable making polite dinner conversation.  I’m just glad that I haven’t stiffled the ability in my children.  Anyway, BooBoo looks at the ceiling and asks me if the planet with the rings around it painted on the ceiling is Saturn.  I told him that yes, it certainly looks like it.  Ditty then pipes up; “And there’s Cupiter, BooBoo.  That big pink & blue one.  That must be Cupiter.  Remember, Mom, when BooBoo thought he was from Cupiter!”  Cupiter, by the way, rhymes with Jupiter.

Boy, do I ever.  When BooBoo was about three, after a very long and tiring day spent away from home doing something somewhere, I put him into his pajamas and was putting him into his bed when he suddenly began to cry.  I asked him what was wrong and he said that he wanted to go home.  I gently explained that he was home and I was putting him to bed.  He cried again that this wasn’t his home and he wanted to go back to his real home with his real parents.  Again, I explained that he was in his real home with his real parents and he said; “No, I mean my real home on Cupiter!  I’m not from this planet, I’m from Cupiter!”

Well, how was I supposed to know that, and here I was thinking that the caesarean scar from his birth was real, LOL.  Well, I gently told him that we didn’t have a rocket ship ready yet and that we’d miss him terribly if he went back to Cupiter.  So he agreed to stay on this planet for a little while longer.  That’s good. 

And just to make sure, I haven’t built a rocket ship for him.   Yet.  That might come with the teen years.  I’ll wait and see.


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