Xander, who is six and off school this week, came over for the day today. As usual, I had a terrific time temporarily viewing the world through the eyes of a six year old. For starters, while I did some work on my laptop in the kitchen, Xander eased himself into the day by curling up on the couch in the gameroom with Uncle Mike, whom he adores. They watched The Grinch and Charlie Brown’s Christmas, and then played with legos for awhile after that. Eventually, we got into my car, whereupon Xander immediately announced that he preferred the convertible (yeah, me too!). We picked up Grandpa Anthony, and drove to have lunch with Katharina.
“My Mom, Judi!”
“No, my daughter, Xander!”
After lunch we stopped by the grocery store, where we picked up ingredients for Rice Krispie treats. Back at my house, we made Rice Krispie treats, and decorated them with red hots. Mike and Xander then retired to the gameroom, where they built more elaborate lego structures. They also played cards: “Guy stuff, Judi!” Xander announced. Uh-huh.
Call me twisted, but part of the fun with kids, always, is talking age and relationships. As we hung ornaments on the tree, I casually announced that Mike is my Grandma.
Xander rolled his eyes. “You’re the Grandma, Judi!”
“No, Mike is my Grandma!”
Xander sighed. “Look, I’m six,” he said, and then he asked politely: “How old are you Mike?”
Mike, who is 23, said without missing a beat: “35”.
Xander accepted this lie as gospel. "My Mom is 30, she just had a birthday," he announced, "and my Dad is 31". Then he looked at me. “And how old are you, Judi?” he asked pointedly.
I sighed. “37”, I lied.
“See?” he said sweetly, “I told you, Judi, you’re the Grandma!”
I smiled. You can't argue with that logic, and by the way, yes, I am!