Rocket Man, Danger Boy, and Crazy Mom

I have often described Sawyer as a fearless child. The kid is a risk taker. He laughs in the face of dangers such as oncoming traffic, deep water, 6 foot ladders, and poisonous plants. The threat of getting hurt means nothing to him. He will attempt the same Kinievelesque stunt numerous times even if it means he becomes black and blue in the process. This kid will send us all to the ER at some point in his childhood. He's a maniac.

Sawyer is, however, afraid of exactly two things: the garbage truck (I know, weird!) and these squealing rocket balloon things that Jack recently acquired from his grandma. Not only is he afraid, I daresay the boy is PETRIFIED. As in he wails and screams like a banshee if he even catches a glimpse of one (which of course happens often what with the whole Jack being totally OBSESSED with them). Sheesh.

So like a good mother I branded the balloon rockets with the old "outside toy only" label, much to Jack's dismay. In fact, Jack was so irritated by Sawyer's irrational fear that he informed me of his desire to get rid of his brother. "Where would we send him?" I wanted to know. "To another house," Jack replied, matter-of-factly. When I told him that I would be sad if Sawyer went to live with another family he said that he would be sad, too, but that at least we could fly the rocket balloons in the house again. Well then.



And speaking of trips to the ER, did you notice that Brent's Father's Day picture with the boys included a skateboard? Since I was unable to procure a gift for him, he made this little purchase for himself. Or was it for Jack? At any rate, we now own a skateboard.





What's funny is that Jack actually took to it pretty quickly and so far (fingers crossed) no injuries have been sustained. I suspect Brent had a lot of fun strolling down memory lane while explaining to Jack the importance of foot spacing and balance. And it was as if my life has come full circle as I stood around watching cute boys on a skateboard.

It is pretty unnerving to watch your three-year-old set off down the sidewalk on a skateboard, but I am trying hard to be cool with this. Brent is thrilled with Jack's latest interest and plans to take his snowboarding this winter. I'm just glad we have good health insurance.

I, too, am setting off on a dangerous mission of my own. Tomorrow morning I will load the boys into the Volvo and drive to California armed with a cooler full of snacks, lots of music, a wing, and a prayer. It should be a six hour drive, but I'm banking on a full day spent on the old I-5 South with plenty of pit stops and episodes of synchronized screaming. The AC in the Volvo has been out for years and it's supposed to be 100 degrees in Chico. Wish me luck. The good news is that I'll be visiting my amazing cousin Lauren and her super funny and cute daughter, Audrey, which I'm sure will be well worth the hellacious drive.

(It shouldn't be that bad, right? I mean, my parents crammed us into the back of a two door Toyota Tercel many times to make this exact same trip. Nick would get carsick and just barf right in a plastic bag in the backseat. And air conditioning in a car? That was for rich people. Stopping for a potty break? For sissies. I have a few secret weapons up my sleeve and plan to stop a lot. A lot. So the boys and I should be just fine, right? Right??)

What about Brent? He's going fishing and camping. And hanging out with adult friends, having conversations that do not include rocket balloons or explanations about why we don't stand on tables, etc. And probably, I'm just guessing, taking Jack's skateboard around the block a few times.

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