22 April 2013
Yesterday after swimming we were changing clothes and Enzo said, “Dude, I can totally see your boobs.” And last night when I was snuggling him down, he told me that when he grows up he’s going to have man-boobs as big as mine. He lifted up his pajama top to show me his tiny nipples.
A few days ago we were talking about feeling left out. I don’t remember how it came up. Enzo said, “It makes me feel like I want to be more of a boy. It makes me a reputation of almost being bad.” I asked Teresa about it afterward—are kids mean to him? Ever? And she said all kids feel like that sometimes. Enzo’s part of the gang.
Still, I wanted to find those kids who made him feel left out and rip their tiny throats out.
Teresa also told me how on her volunteer day she was taking groups of boys to the bathroom before the walk to the park, and one of Enzo’s pals couldn’t go with his usual gang because there were too many of them. He had to wait and go with three other boys—unpopular boys—and he was mortified.
Teresa was telling Enzo that in third grade he’s going to have an overnight trip to a farm and do farm work. “You’re going to hoe and harvest and shovel manure.”
“I’m too delicate to do that job.”
“Oh, you just want to reach under the nice warm chicken butts and get the eggs, right?”
“Yeah, that’s good enough. Also milking the cows. And maybe goats.”
She also told him that in sixth grade they go on a camping trip. “I’m going to bring a small TV,” he said.
Enzo: Are there poisonous mushrooms in Antarctica?
Me: I doubt it.
Enzo: Whew! Let’s move there right now.