Every once in awhile, you get a bad egg. And, I don't mean bad in a way you would expect. New playdates that seem to be a great fit, take a dark turn about 20 minutes in, and you realize it is going to drag on forever. For. EVER. Possibly leaving you questioning what kind of parent you are. Or person in general. And, leaving both you and your child with a slight inferiority complex.
Since Christmas vacation is such a loooooong week, we have had several scheduled playdates. Mostly with friends that we've known forever. Wanting to branch out and make new friendships in our new school, we invited over one of Boston's classmates. We will call him G. G is a cute lil' guy and by all accounts seems to get along with Boston very well. They are on the same baseball team, and since she has invited Boston to their house more than once, I figured it was our turn to host.
The first conversation revolved around a question posed by G. Did we know the origins of the "Gangham Style" song? Boston and I looked at each other puzzled. Why would I know this? And, why don't I know this? Taking our silence as his answer, he proceeded to relate that the song refers to the affluent south side of most cities. Hmmm. Must have overheard his parents talking or something. How else would a child know that? Well, how completely naive of me. That questioned was followed by another: How many languages did we speak. Both Boston and I both sheepishly replied, "one". He then rattled of a list of 6, that he could speak. How dare you sir? How dare you show us up in our own home? I boldly reminded Boston that he could count to 10 in spanish, and that I also knew how to count to 10 in French. Which we both proceeded to do. I also vomited out several phrases in spanish, which as a sentence would read: How are you good and you lets go where is the bathroom. He seemed slightly amused. I was daring to hope impressed. I then asked if he could tell me what horse was in spanish. He could not. HA! Victory was short lived when he asked me if I knew animal in Spanish. I did not. He tested me with several other translations, which I failed. He jumped down from the counter victorious and called for Boston to follow him out to shoot hoops. Pretentious little......
A bit later they came in for lunch, and G got the ball rolling with asking how many generations back we could trace our lineage. What. the hell. Seriously? What 8 year old is thinking about this kind of stuff. That was followed by his family history including military service. 4 generations of service, including both parents. He also included little quips from time to time like, "In Asian cuisine, we eat the whole pea. Pod and all. We eat them both raw and cooked." Mmmm k. No one cares.
The next course of conversation happened amid a game of bop it.
G: "Boston where are you planning on attending college, and for what degree? What do you want to do with your life?"
B: "BYU". Maybe drive an airplane. (DANG IT BOST, IT'S CALLED A PILOT. GET IT TOGETHER!)
G: When do you plan on starting your career? I have 8 years. 8 years until my mom ships me off to the army.
*I actually laughed out loud at this, until I remembered about the 4 generations of service. Then I felt guilty.
B: Uh, I don't know. 30, I guess? (DANG IT SON. PAY ATTENTION.)
G: Well that means I will be starting WAAAAAYYY before you.
G: I'm going to be attending West Point.
All the while Boston is shouting at the Bop It game: "Yes! Oh Man! Dang it! I almost had a new record!!" Some of G's questions, therefore, had to be repeated several times. What's the matter G? Bop It not conducive to gentlemanly conversation?
Earrriight. That was about enough of that. Talk about a downer. I felt like we were both failing some sort of sick "new friend" interview. 15 minutes until he goes home. I'm sure Boston has chased a few friends away with his playdate "Schedule", including the super fun increment of time allotted for quiet reading time and workbook pages. So let's not judge. Truth be told, this little dude is fascinating, and I'm sure Bost and I could learn many things from him, we previously had not known. Totally having him over again.
P.S. G plays the piano. With sharps and flats. Of course he does.
Since Christmas vacation is such a loooooong week, we have had several scheduled playdates. Mostly with friends that we've known forever. Wanting to branch out and make new friendships in our new school, we invited over one of Boston's classmates. We will call him G. G is a cute lil' guy and by all accounts seems to get along with Boston very well. They are on the same baseball team, and since she has invited Boston to their house more than once, I figured it was our turn to host.
The first conversation revolved around a question posed by G. Did we know the origins of the "Gangham Style" song? Boston and I looked at each other puzzled. Why would I know this? And, why don't I know this? Taking our silence as his answer, he proceeded to relate that the song refers to the affluent south side of most cities. Hmmm. Must have overheard his parents talking or something. How else would a child know that? Well, how completely naive of me. That questioned was followed by another: How many languages did we speak. Both Boston and I both sheepishly replied, "one". He then rattled of a list of 6, that he could speak. How dare you sir? How dare you show us up in our own home? I boldly reminded Boston that he could count to 10 in spanish, and that I also knew how to count to 10 in French. Which we both proceeded to do. I also vomited out several phrases in spanish, which as a sentence would read: How are you good and you lets go where is the bathroom. He seemed slightly amused. I was daring to hope impressed. I then asked if he could tell me what horse was in spanish. He could not. HA! Victory was short lived when he asked me if I knew animal in Spanish. I did not. He tested me with several other translations, which I failed. He jumped down from the counter victorious and called for Boston to follow him out to shoot hoops. Pretentious little......
A bit later they came in for lunch, and G got the ball rolling with asking how many generations back we could trace our lineage. What. the hell. Seriously? What 8 year old is thinking about this kind of stuff. That was followed by his family history including military service. 4 generations of service, including both parents. He also included little quips from time to time like, "In Asian cuisine, we eat the whole pea. Pod and all. We eat them both raw and cooked." Mmmm k. No one cares.
The next course of conversation happened amid a game of bop it.
G: "Boston where are you planning on attending college, and for what degree? What do you want to do with your life?"
B: "BYU". Maybe drive an airplane. (DANG IT BOST, IT'S CALLED A PILOT. GET IT TOGETHER!)
G: When do you plan on starting your career? I have 8 years. 8 years until my mom ships me off to the army.
*I actually laughed out loud at this, until I remembered about the 4 generations of service. Then I felt guilty.
B: Uh, I don't know. 30, I guess? (DANG IT SON. PAY ATTENTION.)
G: Well that means I will be starting WAAAAAYYY before you.
G: I'm going to be attending West Point.
All the while Boston is shouting at the Bop It game: "Yes! Oh Man! Dang it! I almost had a new record!!" Some of G's questions, therefore, had to be repeated several times. What's the matter G? Bop It not conducive to gentlemanly conversation?
Earrriight. That was about enough of that. Talk about a downer. I felt like we were both failing some sort of sick "new friend" interview. 15 minutes until he goes home. I'm sure Boston has chased a few friends away with his playdate "Schedule", including the super fun increment of time allotted for quiet reading time and workbook pages. So let's not judge. Truth be told, this little dude is fascinating, and I'm sure Bost and I could learn many things from him, we previously had not known. Totally having him over again.
P.S. G plays the piano. With sharps and flats. Of course he does.
