Friday

My attempts to track down my laptop at Best Buy have so far been fruitless. They've had it for almost 2 weeks, were supposed to call with an estimate and I haven't heard anything.

I called twice yesterday - the first time I was put on hold for 30 minutes and the second time they just didn't bother to answer the phone. I tried calling the main number (1-888-best-buy) and they can't get through until the store opens, so I have to call back again after 10am. I asked the CS rep, "You can probably get through better than I can, huh?" He answered, "Well, we have lots of practice." Oh good - that instills confidence.

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A. recently picked out a bright pink bicycle helmet. G had a tiny crisis of masculinity in the bike shop with the choice, but went along with it.

Then we noticed that A. wasn't riding his bike. The one time I convinced him to ride it, he jumped off as soon as Neighbor Boy came around. I asked if it was about the helmet.

"W. isn't going to like it," he said. W. is one of his best friends, a real boy's boy who hates the color pink with a passion. A. likes to tease him by telling him how much he loves pink. But to say you like pink and to wear a bright pink bike helmet are two different things.

"Good thing W. doesn't have to wear it, then. Look, buddy, when W. picks out a helmet for himself, he can pick one he likes. Do you not like this one anymore?"

"No, I do like it."

"Then you shouldn't worry about what the other kids think. It's your helmet."

I sighed. I want him to be strong enough to stand up to peer pressure, but to tell a kid that it doesn't matter if other kids tease him is ridiculous.

"Look, I think you should either wear it because you like it, or we can go pick out a different one. But to not ride your bike at all isn't going to work."

The next day, W. was out and A. rode his bike with the pink helmet happily. There didn't seem to be any problem with it. Way to go, A.

The next day he told me he wanted to be a witch for Halloween. It's one thing for a 3-year-old boy to be a ladybug (see Halloween 2005), but it's another for a kindergarten boy to choose to be a witch. I took a deep breath and wondered if I should say, "Great. We'll make it happen," or "How 'bout a wizard instead?"

Fortunately, he saved me by saying, "No, I mean I want to be a pirate. Half-witch, half-pirate. No, I mean I'm going to be a vampire."

(with relief) "OK, you've got some time to decide."

Sometimes it's hard to practice what you preach. Especially if your boy's going to be the one in a witch dress at the costume parade.

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A new bedtime routine is called "Silly Questions." G. started it with A. and Ben isn't about to be left out. At first I tried to get out of it by saying that only Papa knew how to do Silly Questions, but that didn't work.

Silly Questions involve us asking the boys, "If you were going to be/do A, would you be/do B or C?" Like "If you were going to be a dinosaur, would you be a Brontosaurus or a Triceratops?"

The boys then answer something that wasn't given as an option, and we express dismay and surprise. G. is better at that part than I am.

So Ben just walked up to me and said, "I goin' ask you silly question. If you were going to be a banana or a monkey, would you be a fence or a couch?" Then he chortled to himself and walked away.