Epistles

Hey, folks...Much to report, little energy with which to do it. But I'll try anyway.

T had a play date with a friend who's a year younger today, and guided her around the house and the yard with one hand in the small of her back, offering her something to drink ("Would you like hot water or cold water?"), laughing in a disturbingly adult way - that is to say, a laugh that was phony - when she didn't understand a joke, but didn't want the teller to feel bad...Spooky to watch, and cool. She might honestly be more mature than I am right now.

She also received a letter from her future teacher today, and wrote a reply. She told me what she wanted to say, I told her how to spell the words, and she wrote it out. Reads like this:

"Dear Miss Johnson,

"I really liked the letter.

"I'm really excited that I'm going to Kindergarden.

"Love,

"T"

A cuter thing was never done.

(Baby donkeys notwithstanding.)

I have a writing assignment for tomorrow: Q's fourth-grade teacher has solicited input. "I invite each of you to take a moment to write to me about your child. What are the things you are aware of that would be important for me to know? What are your child's interests? What do you see as your child's strengths and weaknesses, both academic and social?"

(Just pausing to say that the fact that she said "academic and social" instead of "academically and socially" right there made her stock shoot up through the roof, and I still haven't even met her. (Though Janneke informs me that she's the lady we often see in our neighborhood walking an utterly adorable little black collie mix.))

"What are your goals for your child this year?"

She obviously didn't know what she was asking for, or whom she was asking. Because I'll guarantee, I'm going to spend an hour on this.

One of the things to touch on is going to be his nascent personality shift, and the fact that while it may entail some things that of course we can never condone, we want her to tamp them down, if need be, very gently, without extinguishing the fire completely. Because there is some fire there, and we are liking it.

Up at Windsor Lake the other day, Janneke said she saw Q out in the water near another kid, about his size. The other kid splashed Q, in a way that, Janneke said, seemed friendly. Or maybe not. Q cringed momentarily, then told him to quit it. The kid splashed him again; Q repeated his earlier invective, louder. And then Q started two-hand machine-gun splashing the kid until he turned and waded away. And then Q went back to whatever he was doing. No running to us, no backing down, no crying. And no informing of us afterward, either - he walked back to our blanket some time later and said not one word, unaware that Janneke had been watching.

Nice.

Q had his second real day of soccer practice for the fall - there's a tournament Labor Day weekend, and they've "invited" ten of the stronger U-10 players from town to play on it. Q is among them. He got new cleats - White! His choice! - the other day, and has been rarin' to go. Practice was from 5:00 to 6:15, and I drove over about 5:30 to watch the tail end of it before the end.

There were only six kids at this particular practice, and when I got there they were doing 3-on-3. I only saw the very end, where Q was coming up the right side, feet moving very fast, poking the ball out ahead but keeping his options open, daring the defender to come closer. And when he finally committed totally to Q, he fired a cross to the other side of the goal, where another (much weaker) player put it effortlessly over the line. Much jubilation from Q, and his teammates.

And then a game where the goals are close together, and a one kid stands in each, taking turns firing shots on the other. If you're scored on, you're out, and another kid from your side takes over; if you shoot and miss the goal, you're out. First side to 10 goals wins.

Q's side in this, as in the scrimmage, was him and two weak players, against 3 strong ones. They lost, 10-9, and the last goal was given up by Q - who was bouncing on his toes, in a half-squat, hands spread wide, focused like a laser beam, just before the shot was taken. He dove to the right and got a hand on it, but not enough of one, and it bounced off the post and in. He stood up and kicked the ball into the back of the net again, then turned, looking fierce, and walked to the water bottles. A few seconds later, he was fine, joking with the guy who'd scored.

After the practice, as I helped the volunteer coach, a former Williams soccer player, pull the goals off the field so it could be mown, I asked, "So how are the troops looking?"

He chuckled and searched for words for a moment, then said this: "Q, boy, I tell you - He just looks like a little soccer player out there. He's obviously been watching the pros. He knows what the game is supposed to look like, and he does everything he can to make it look like that. It's really something. He looks older than his years."

Nice.

Q and I were arguing, because he'd done something I thought was wrong, and he wasn't agreeing that it was wrong. And I interrupted him. "Papi!" he said, very firmly. I kept talking. "PAPI! No me interrumpas! Vos me interrumpiste, asi que yo voy a hablar hasta que vos no hables mas, porque no es justo que vos me digas que YO no te interrrumpa a VOS, pero entonces VOS me interrumpis a MI! Asi que no voy a dejar de hablar...Bueno. Ahora, me vas a escuchar?"

Nice.

Q and I were shooting baskets, and he wanted to play 1-on-1. I said it wouldn't be fair, and he said "That's OK. How about, you can't do lay-ups?" Seemed good. Off we went. Every time he left the ball where I could poke it away, I did - and after maybe three times, he never left it there again. When he got me turned around and could get around me, he would sometimes hesitate - wanting to draw he game out, it seemed - and I told him not to. "If you see an opening, you take it, before it goes away. It's just like soccer." So he started going around me the nanosecond he could.

His lay-ups have become 100%, or close to it. He knows just how to do it now, can do it without thinking. He beat me, 8-4.

I told him how impressed I was with his lay-up prowess - something he did not have during basketball camp. "Q, imagine if you had known how to do a lay-up in basketball camp. You would have scored in every game, I'll bet." (Scoring for Q was a pretty rare thing - I think he made one basket in a game.) "You could always drive to the hole, but it rarely went in."

He shrugged, and smiled, half to himself. "Next year," he said, and pulled up to shoot a jumper.

Swish.

Nice.

I like this swagger - it's something he historically has not had. And he is a nice kid, so it's not like he's going to start making fun of anyone or bullying anyone. And it's not like I'll ask his teacher to let him get away with unkindness. But if there's a squabble between peers, and Q holds his own and doesn't back down, and insists on getting his way, even if it means a conflict, all the way to raised voices and pushing, I want her to know that this is new, that this is something that, if anything, he has not done enough of up to now. He's been easy to bully, easy to take advantage of. Those days appear to be ending, and Q seems to be thinking, "I have as much right to that ball / pencil / place in line / spot in the lake / conversational politeness as anyone, and I'm going to fight for it." It's OK to fight for what's right; that fight isn't something to be feared. He's just learning that.

So, if you have to curb it at all...Please be gentle about it. He's a nice kid - don't fear that it's going to turn into over-aggressiveness or bullying. It won't. Quite the opposite - He's going to use his powers for good. You'll see.

Dang. I may already have written this thing.