Noah, Patron Saint of Freakishly Abnormal Behavior: A Play in Two Acts

“Are you done with your lunch?”

“Um…actually, can I have some more carrots?”

“…..”

“Can I?”

“Yes! Good Lord.  Sorry.  YES.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Oh, anytime.  Any old time.”

(later)

“I’m done Mom.”

“Ok, make sure you take your – oh.  You’re already cleaning up.”

“Hey Mom can we play a game?”

“Yeah, sure buddy, but I need to put Rosie down for her nap first, so it’s going to be a few minutes.”

“Ok.  I’ll go read the Bible until you’re done.  Ok, Mom?”*

“Um. Ok. You…do that.”

“Night night Rosie!  Sweet dreams!  I love you!”

(fin)

*I SWEAR TO YOU ON ALL FIVE JUMBO BAGS OF HALLOWEEN CANDY IN MY PANTRY THAT HE SAID THOSE EXACT WORDS.

—————————————————–

Live Action Action

Though I clearly had forgotten to take my Creative or Interesting Pills this day, Noah was agreeable to my True Hollywood Story moment and indulged my random line of questioning in the following video.  Note how even when police cars with flashing lights are racing down my small residential street behind me I keep my subject on subject Geraldo Rivera style, unwavered by residential tomfoolery.  Because I am a hardcore journalist! Who always gets her story!

Inside the Four Year Old’s Studio from racher on Vimeo.

No, For Real Dudes, I Heart My Mom

Last year when Noah was bequeathed a bike (fo free – Holla!), he was fairly dismayed to discover it had no bell like his trusty tricycle.  Oh HO, I said.  We shall remedy that!  And continued on not only to find him a bell but to find him the best bell ever.

Who’s the coolest kid on the block?  The one with the “I love my mom” bell! Am I right? HIGH FIVE!  When he upgrades to four wheels and a motor, we’ll get the bumper sticker!

Future therapy sessions aside, he truly loved the bell. Mostly, I suspect, because I did.  And so lo, last week when the skies did but pour in Atlanta for a fortnight and the humidity did increaseth, the sticker fell right off one day, mid-ride.  Devastated, Noah retraced his tracks, but to no avail.  Head hung low and spirits lower, he returned home with L, stickerless.  In an attempt to cheer him up, L vaguely suggested that maybe he could make one to replace it, and HOO BOY did he perk right up.  The solution was found!

And so I say to you, if you see a small boy riding his tiny dirt bike down the sidewalks of a friendly neighborhood with paper and tape atop his handlebar bell, know this: though the days of broadcasting it to the world may be drawing to a close, for now he’s not ashamed to tell you in plain black crayon: he loves his mama.