So.

The pre-schooler and a couple of his buddies started a little KAH-RAH-TAY class today, and I’m not exactly sure what they did besides yelling “HIIIIIIII-YAH!” four or eight hundred times. However, Alex does seem to have mastered a martial arts stance / arm motion that’s eerily reminiscent of Elaine’s dancing on “Seinfeld,” so quite obviously we’re going to get our money’s worth (and then some) out of his first official extracurricular activity.

Anyway, as we headed to our car after his class, I couldn’t help but notice that he was even more excited than normal. And as soon as we were all buckled in he said, “Mama! I need to talk to my daddy! I NEED to talk to my daddy!” So I got D. on the phone, and A. told his daddy all about the KAH-RAH-TAY, did a few quick “HIIIIIII-YAH!s” before hanging up, and then we headed to Publix because, well, that is what we do on the days when the sun comes up in the morning.

The fact that Alex seems to come alive in public settings - like, for instance, at Publix - has been confirmed time and time again, seeing as how he likes to introduce himself to people he doesn’t know and engage them in lengthy conversations. In fact, when I recently took him to get his hair cut, he found out the names of everyone in the waiting area, made sure every child had paper and crayons, procured Little Debbie cakes from the coffee station and distributed them, then passed out balloons and candy to all the children (their names were Cameron, Ethan, Zachary and Morgan, and I know this because Alex repeated their names approximately four hundred and ninety four times while we were waiting).

In short, our child is a three year old camp counselor.

And let me just tell you: this afternoon? the extroverted child? after participating in an organized martial arts activity? with a bunch of other boys his age?

OH MY SWEET MERCY MAMA NEEDED A NERVE PILL.

I don’t even know how to explain what happened when we were in Publix, but I do know this: while Alex does typically talk in exclamation points (I can’t imagine how he inherited such a tendency!), this afternoon in the grocery store he was talking in ALL CAPS. ALL CAPS WITH EXCLAMATION POINTS! LOUDLY!

For example:

“MAMA! WE NEED SOME TURKEY!” (true that)

“OH, LOOK MAMA! CEREAL! I LOOOOOOOVE CEREAL!” (he doesn’t eat cereal)

“MAMA! BANANAS MAKE ME HAPPY!” (really? as far as I can tell, air makes him happy)

“YOU KNOW WHAT WE NEED NOW, MAMA? EGGGGGGS!” I LOOOOOOOOVE EGGS!” (he doesn’t eat eggs)

And please don’t misunderstand me. I am beyond grateful for the blessing of a happy, healthy child. It’s just that the happy, healthy child was a little amped up due to all the chopping and kicking and “HIIIIIIII-YAH”-ing he’d been doing, and I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that a stranger or two craned their necks from adjoining aisles to see who was starting the pep rally for “CORRRRRRRN! LOOK, MAMA, IT’S CORRRRRRN!” over in frozen foods.

I tried to say things - calm things - like, “baby. let’s use our inside voice. our quiet voice. ‘kay?”

And Alex would look at me very seriously and nod his head and say, “OKAY, MAMA! WE’LL USE OUR INSIDE VOICE! THAT’S A GREAT IDEA! IT’LL BE SO! MUCH! FUN!”

When I had just about hit my limit - when I was just about to that point where you just pull the young’un out of the grocery cart and hope some shopper comes along who needs the exact combination of groceries that you’re about to leave behind - Alex looked at me, smiled, patted my arm, and said, “Oh, Mama. You’re my sweet girl, aren’t you, Mama?”

I melted. On the spot. Despite the fact that I was surrounded by large refrigerated coolers.

I paused for just a second so I could soak up the sweetness of the moment - and then I smiled, patted his little arm, and said, “I am your sweet girl. And you’re my sweet, big boy.”

And together, we marveled at THE PAPER TOWELS! and THE WINNIE THE POOH FRUIT CANDY! and THE ORAL B STAGES BUBBLY FRUIT TOOTHPASTE! as we wheeled our way through the rest of the store.

This post was published originally on January 31, 2007.

I am happy to announce that Fresh Market & Co. waddled back to our ‘hood this afternoon. All nine of them.

We took them some bread and then snapped an obscene number of pictures.

The mama and daddy were much friendlier today, by the way.

I’m guessing that had something to do with the whole bread thing.

Which reminds me.

Today about 12:30 someone called me from Alex’s Mother’s Day Out and said that he had gotten sick. She said that he didn’t throw up exactly, but he got very still in the middle of eating lunch “and then some of it came back up.”

So I jumped in the car and headed over to pick him up, and when I got there about five minutes later, he was sitting happily in a chair in the director’s office, eating a popsicle and talking up a storm. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was sticking to his head - they’d been out on the playground right before lunch - but other than that he looked perfectly normal. I figured he must be in the early stages of a virus, so we thanked everybody for their help (”AND THE POPSICLE, MAMA!”), grabbed his backpack, and left.

Once we got back home, I immediately fixed the little man some Sprite and told him that it would probably be a good idea if he rested for awhile. He curled up on his bean bag in the playroom and watched a movie, and I was all “bless your bones” and “baby, do you need anything?” and he was all doe-eyed and uncharacteristically quiet.

But when the movie was over, he popped up from that bean bag, threw on his shoes, ran down the hallway at warp speed and announced (loudly) that he wanted to GO OUTSIDE! PLEASE, MAMA! AND PLAY BASEBALL!

Which seemed, you know, odd. Considering he was sick and all.

And by the end of the day, when there had been no more vomitage but a great deal of TALKING! AND PLAYING!, I started to get a little puzzled about this “virus.” So I began to ask him some questions.

Finally, after he had detailed most of the circumstances surrounding his lunchtime misfortune, he said, “Mama, I don’t need a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in my lunch anymore.”

“But you love peanut butter and jelly, don’t you?”

“No, Mama. I don’t need it.”

And then it dawned on me: I bought a different kind of bread this week, a brand with little chunks of grains and berries and nuts and whatnot.

So I said, “Buddy, did you not like the bread I used today to make your sandwich?”

“NO, Mama - it had NUTS in it. And Mama, I SPIT IT OUT. I SPIT IT OUT REAL HARD.”

Which pretty much solved the whole “mystery virus” conundrum.

You see, apparently my child didn’t care for Nature’s Own Honey Wheat Berry bread when he started to eat his lunch today, so HE GAGGED AND PROJECTILE SPAT IT ACROSS THE LUNCH TABLE, thereby causing his teacher’s understandable concern that he was, you know, VOMITING.

And then he was rewarded for his pickiness with a popsicle.

Really, it worked out beautifully for the young lad.

But no worries.

Because as you can see, Go Diego Go here thought that the Nature’s Own Honey Wheat Berry bread was absolutely delicious. As did his siblings and parents.

In fact, not a single one of them gagged, spat or threw up even a little bit as they ate it.

Alex may have them beat in terms of social skills, but they win the table manners battle by a mile.

A couple of nights ago I was shampooing Alex’s hair, and without even realizing it, I started to sing.

After a few moments of listening to my serenade, Alex said, “Um, Mama? Excuse me? Mama?”

“What, baby?” I replied, soaking in the sweetness of the moment, beaming with pride that my little man was using his manners even during bathtime.

“Mama, when you sing it makes me sad.”

Oh.

Well, then.

That’s interesting.

Because as it turns out, when my own offspring reminds me that I have no vocal talent whatsoever and as a result of that will never, ever BE ABLE TO FULFILL MY DREAM OF SINGING BACK-UP FOR CHRIS TOMLIN, THAT MAKES ME SAD, TOO.

You’ve gotta watch out for those four year olds, y’all.

They’ll take your dreams and stomp them flat.

Yes ma’am they will.

We have been the Sneezy McSickersons at our house today, thanks to a monster of a cold / sinus infection that Mama was kind enough to pass along to all of us when she was visiting for Christmas.

It’s the gift that keeps on giving!

Unfortunately, Alex is about two days ahead of D. and me in the recovery process, which means that the youngster has a major case of cabin fever and two parents who don’t much want to venture outside the “cabin,” as it were. To add insult to injury, Alex ripped up a DVD case (why? I have no idea, but the people at Blockbuster will be none too pleased with his handiwork), lost his TV privileges for the day, and do y’all have any idea how it’s taking every ounce of strength I have not to cave and let my child watch “Max and Ruby,” for pete’s sake?

You see, the problem with punishment is that you have to enforce it. Which totally stinks. Especially when your head is swollen to twice its normal size and stuffed with cotton.

So, to entertain himself, Alex has been removing the attachments from the vacuum cleaner and using them as microphones, mostly saying, “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, it’s MAAAAAAH-MAAAAAAAH!” And then I take the stage, sneeze, and blow my nose. Tickets are going for upwards of a penny, so you’d better order yours quickly because there’s no question that the show is going to be a sell-out.

We have also made pretend phone calls to Mickey Mouse, Batman, Superman, Donald Duck, Goofy, the grandparents, and all the aunts and uncles. And do y’all know what’s CRAZY? According to the information that Alex says they’re giving him, they all got Criss Cross Crash for Christmas. ISN’T THAT UNCANNY? Alex has also called Mickey Mouse to tell him that we’re going to make some chocolate chip cookies and to ask him to excuse him because he “pooted and had gas,” and if y’all would just remind me that the next time I have some sort of cold and Alex misbehaves, I need to come up with an alternate form of punishment that does not involve taking away the television.

(By the way, right now D. and Alex are playing Criss Cross Crash, and it’s so loud that I feel like I need to TYPE IN ALL CAPS JUST SO YOU CAN HEAR ME.)

So here’s our plan for the evening, once we get the child into bed:

1) Sneeze
2) Wipe nose
3) Repeat

If we get really wild and crazy I guess we’ll wipe each other’s noses, but maybe not, because, well, EWWWW.

I actually did get my Christmas decorations put away today, and that was a huge accomplishment because I kept breaking out in a cold sweat and having to sit down and fan myself (in a word: ATTRACTIVE), and I found myself getting a little reflective about 2006. I don’t know if that was because I was running a touch of fever or because I was actually examining my life thoughtfully (stranger things have happened), but I think I’ll probably write some of that stuff down and post it tomorrow when everyone’s too tired from their New Year’s Eve festivities to care. Because I like to bury the thoughtful stuff in places where no one can find it, you see.

So now it’s almost 10, and Alex is asleep, and the dogs are all snug in their beds (it took some doing because Maggie the lab is terrified of the sound of fireworks and had a full fledged anxiety attack about 7, right around the time when Alex was calling Mickey Mouse and telling him all about his gastric woes), and I think I’m going to watch a movie.

I know! A movie!

I think it’s pretty clear that I’m planning to LIVE ON THE EDGE in 2007.

Happy New Year, everybody.

I have two words to describe Alex on Christmas Eve:

BUCK WILD.

I’ve never seen him in such a state, but he looked a little bit like this: