In praise of 7 year olds

A few months back, before JR turned 7, I read a post on my friend Moxie's blog that had me quaking in my boots about the prospect of my son turning 7. Well the big day has come and gone and let me tell you, I love 7.

We spent the weekend at our first "travel" baseball tournament. Four games in two days. On Sunday the games were five hours apart, so we had a bit of time to kill. We spent that time with three of JR's teammates (and two of the dads). Immediately after the game, there was the trip to a local playground to let them continue their game of catch without smashing any of the car windows in the parking lot of the baseball field. Of course, their interest in playing catch faded quickly as soon as they realized there was playground equipment to climb and a surface made of ground up rubber that was ideal for throwing at each other. Our next stop was a diner for breakfast (did I mention that game one started at 8:00 and ended by 9:15 a.m.?) In between spilled water glasses and duels with knives, forks and spoons, we played Twenty Questions - which gave rise to the type of silliness that is endemic to 7 year olds. "Is it an animal or a thing?" "A thing" "Is it an elephant?" "No, an elephant isn't a thing." "It is if it's a soft gray toy elephant." And so it went.

The next stop was a local funplex where we parents had hoped to occupy the kids at the driving range and miniature golf. The boys had their own ideas. Their favorite activity was a spirited chasing, piling on, wrestling match that we parents loosely monitored for cleats in proximity to heads. Seven year old boys are all about physical contact. Lots of hugging, shoving, picking each other up, wrestling. There was also a fair amount of throwing stuff at each other - helped along by a room full of foam balls. Oh, and of course, there were the arcade games.

Lunchtime meant more silliness, more hugging and shoving and the chance to watch pack mentality in action. The boy who never drinks soda orders the cotton candy flavored Sprite that the other 3 boys want. The boy who hates all cheese gobbles up the lunch of mozzarella sticks and fries just like the lunch his buddies all ordered. They also schooled us in the fine art of translating burp-speech. I admit, I am far from proficient in that skill.

Being seven also means real baseball, with real uniforms, real pitching, real team spirit. The boys encourage each other. Lots of cheering. "We love pork chops, greasy, greasy. Hitting that ball will be easy-peasy." More chasing and piling on for the homerun hitter (well, okay, that was the other team, not ours). Pats on the back and hugs for the kid tagged out at 3rd base, now in tears. Being seven means being able to sit under a tree at the end of the game with the coach and actually dissect what new things about baseball they learned. "I learned not to be afraid when the ball is hit to me in the outfield." There is an intelligence and thirst for learning that is refreshing and inspiring to me.

Being seven means falling asleep in the car on the way home and lifting one's arms up to be carried inside, as if you were not over 50 lbs. of dead weight.

Oh, by the way, we lost all four games and every kid left the ballfield smiling.

Adjusting

As I watch the sun rising over Trenton this morning (it's usually not fully morning until we hit Newark), I'm thinking about the family's whole adjustment to my new career life. The job itself is great - it's intellectually stimulating, it's demanding, I get treated exceptionally well by both co-workers and staff (I admit, it's a bit heady to walk around the office and be greeted with "Good morning, Judge' "How are you, Judge?") The commute is daunting - although quiet time to myself on a train every morning has its upside (I just wish it didn't come at the cost of the sleeping I would normally be doing between 4:15 a.m. and 7:15). JR's dad has been fantastic - he has stepped into the role of primary caretaker and actually seems to be enjoying his extra time with JR and the fact that some household things (like getting JR up and out of the house in the morning) he just does better than I did. He even cooked us a great dinner last night that didn't involve ordering pizza or reheating his mom's macaroni (that will be tonight).

JR has also adapted quite well. He loves his camps and seems to genuinely enjoy the time with the two babysitters who alternate days picking him up after camp. It's been particularly nice to see him develop a relationship with his oldest cousin on his dad's side - who is now entering his sophomore year in college. As the cousins on opposite ends of the age sandwich, they hadn't really spent much time together until this summer.

Of course, he's still his usual self - so we have our arguments over clothes (now mainly limited to Sundays and church clothes) and TV (we've moved on from Max and Ruby to Bindi the Jungle Girl) and whether he can have a second dessert. I love watching him try to negotiate - especially when he goes into what I've now deemed his "spoiled rotten face" I actually can't watch him do this without cracking up. He starts fluttering his eyelids, looking up at me, and pouts. But the whole expression is so exaggerated. I am at a loss to explain where he learned the eyelid fluttering pout or how he knows when it is appropriate to pull that expression out - but he does. It hasn't worked yet to get him what he wants - but it never fails to leave his mother in hysterics.

New Day, New Rules

Yesterday JR started a new camp. Earlier this summer, we all attended a camp orientation. As parents, we were impressed by the facility, the range of activities, the creativity of the counselors. Apparently, all that JR heard were RULES. Yesterday, he was excited to report that camp was great and "Mom, they don't really have all those rules. There's only one rule - have fun!"

Today's Lesson

While they may run more often than Amtrak and are far, far less expensive, it is much harder (although not impossible) to use a laptop while riding Greyhound.

In other news = we had a lovely weekend. My pre-job organization seemed to pay off, so that we had minimal chores to do this weekend and we were able to spend most of Saturday playing. We spent hours at the pool (amazingly, none of our friends were there) and went to see "Kung Fu Panda" According to our budding movie critic, KFP was way better than "Curious George", about the same as "Ratatouille", not nearly as good as "Kicking and Screaming". He's unsure how it compares to "Cars" as he "hasn't thought about that yet."

Down The Shore

We had picture perfect weather this summer during our annual trek "down the shore." We even managed, for the first time in about 5 years of vacationing down the shore, to get a kite aloft on the beach.

Early Summer

80% of JR's preschool class are kids with spring birthdays (the other 2 are in October). So every weekend between mid-April and mid-June, he has a birthday party. Today's party was a backyard barbecue and his buddy received lots of summer yard toys, all of which had to be tried out immediately. Of course, none of the parents had predicted the need for bathing suits, so all the kids stripped down to their shorts (for some, their undershorts) and tested the new water toys, just so JR's buddy would know they work, of course.