He’s reading… not just words, but BOOKS. He’s reading English voraciously, French daily (with a beautiful French accent). He does his math homework incredibly quickly-yet-correctly, and easily meets any math challenge we give him, or at least has the idea of how to solve the problem. He loves science experiments, and over the summer, spent hours on the driveway with cups of water, vinegar, baking soda, cornstarch and food colouring. He makes tiny, detailed drawings, often of ships, tanks, weapons (sigh), but also of cats and people and Pokemons. He is dentally advanced (or possibly just isn’t taking care of his teeth), as he’s lost 7 teeth so far – last week alone, he lost 2. The tooth fairy is being scarily generous, and with a few more teeth out, I believe he’ll be able to buy a fairly decent used car with his earnings.
Now that he’s lost two on the same side, he has a “straw hole”.
Of the three kids, he is the most cautious around animals (well,
around everything, really) but wants
a dog so badly. He’s nervous around
dogs, which is why it is especially endearing that he is keeping track of all
the dogs that have licked him – because it means they’ve made him part of their
pack. As of Saturday, he is now in SEVEN
different dog packs. Wow. He has, however, since we first talked about
getting a dog, refused to pick up poop.
Just a few months ago, I asked him again, and he said he would NOT. I said, if you won’t pick up poop, then we’ll
never get a dog.
He paused, considering (his pauses are great), and said, “I will
pick it up, but I won’t enjoy it.”
To which I replied, “No, you also have to enjoy it.”
“NOOOOOO!” he screamed, grinning. (He gets me.)
He is not all sunshine and roses, however – far from it. He is sensitive about certain things, and
insensitive to others (by “others” I mean “Ailsa”), and can be stubborn and
angry and carry a dark cloud over his head…until you make him laugh. He stomps up to his room in true teenage
fashion for almost any reason, and is only truly happy when he is tormenting
his little sisters. In fact, his real,
gleeful laugh is a clear indication that he is being a stinker to at least one
of them. He loves them (but usually will
not admit it), and, with Tamsin especially he is (sometimes) very tender and
kind.
But anyway, to bring us back to the cryptic post title above
(has anyone figured it out yet?), his brain works in strange and brilliant
ways. With it being mid-November, dining-room
table talk is revolving around Miss Tamsin’s upcoming birthday celebration…and
Christmas (he’s started three lists so far). Vaughn has also started putting thought into
his own birthday, which is coming up soon (seven weeks is sort of soon). This morning, we were eating breakfast, and
he said, “Do you remember your last Christmas with just you and Daddy? And I was in your belly?” (This, of course, from photos and stories we’ve
told him) “My birthday is just a little
bit after Christmas, so it’s like I’m Jesus’ little brother.”
(There are several flaws in his logic, but the only one of which
we got into this morning was the 2000-year age gap.)
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