Today my kids auditioned for the school talent show. Pip is singing “For Good” with her bff, Miss L, while Stink is going to do a magic act to entertain the crowd. I don’t want to give away his shining moment in advance, but let’s just say that it involves taking a wand, forcing a platter to rise out of a box, and making food on said platter magically disappear.
Translation: Pip will hide in the box. Stink will take a Barbie doll (which he finds funnier than a wand) and scream: “Rise! RIIIISSSEEEEEEEEEE!” Pip’s hand will then appear through the hole in the box with a plate of cookies. The great magician will then take a cookie and toss it in his mouth, making it disappear.
Afterward, Stink will ask for volunteers. He’ll choose four children. Once on stage, he will ask them, “Now, which one of you want to make things disappear?” Once again, he’ll point to the box, but this time, pizza will rise – hopefully to every mini-foodie’s delight. He will then work his way up to cupcakes. Finally, over 25 of his rubber ducks will explode out of the center of the box. Why? “Because ducks are funny, mom. Duh.”
I bring you this little slice of silly because it reminds me that life doesn’t have to be so friggin’ serious all the time. Is it a piano concerto? No. But Stink isn’t interested in impressing adults in the audience with his musical instrument talents. He’s interested in making a whole lot of kids laugh. Because, really, kids find this stuff pretty funny.
I like that about Stink.
As we were sitting in the car in front of the driveway, he sprung the loaded question on me. “So, Mom, can I play video games NOW?”
He’d been on restriction for a few days. I had to. The tics were crazy. I couldn’t take it.
“I know you think they make the tics bad, but truthfully, Mom, I’ve been crazy anyway. I can barely concentrate in class. You know, PUBERTY and all.”
That made me laugh. But it also made me sad, because he loves his gaming. And really, he’s right. Video games or not, his tics are just up. Who am I kidding that it’s going to make that much difference.
“But look how mellow you are now, baby,” I said. “Your energy is so even. The lack of video games does make a difference.”
Enter exasperation on his part. “Moooom,” he sighed, “I’m holding them in so you will think my energy is okay so I can play.”
This made me feel like crap. “But you’re not supposed to hold them in at home, buddy. This is your place to let them out!”
He just looked at me and shook his head. “If I do that, you’ll just have one more reason for me not to play, so let’s just decide I can play a little bit and work on diet and exercise. And hey, why don’t you go back to drinking wine? You like it. Go for it!”
The upshot of this is that my kid is upstairs, playing an hour of video games. I am not drinking wine because, well, that’s another blog post. And we’re just going to take this day by day until we see the naturopath on Tuesday.
Until then, Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the tics I cannot change, change the tics I can, and have the wisdom to know the difference.