Vacation Part I

Nothing like a mini family reunion to bring out the best in my son. The single most over-used phrase of the week? My cousins. As in, are they my cousins? Where are my cousins? Are my cousins eating breakfast/lunch/dinner with me? Where are my cousins? Why aren’t my cousins here? Are my cousins sleeping in here with me? Cousins, cousins, cousins, cousins.

As over-used phrases go, this one was awesome to hear. It was the first time in Little Man’s life he had all of his cousins around and he had them for a whole week.  “I have sooo many cousins Mommy!”.  So many in fact, he frequently forgot names. I love his little scrunched up face when he’d try to remember which one he wanted. He’s four. He doesn’t live near any of them and rarely sees them so he has an excuse. Unlike his mother who couldn’t get names straight to save her life (I cannot apologize enough Ms. Gracie and believe me, I feel your pain. I am still called by my sister’s name).

The ages ranged from 4 to 21 (Sorry Nathan but when you start dancing to Cotton Eyed Joe with a bunch of grade-schoolers, you get dumped into the kid category *wink*) with Little Man taking the youngest spot but that didn’t stop him from keeping up. Tennis, ping pong, soccer, volleyball… you name it, he was right in the thick of it. Ok, so maybe not so much on the rock climbing wall but in all else, he was right there.  Oh and the air hockey - he ruled that table. So much show that we actually had break down and get a roll of quarters to feed his habit. We’ve been back 2 days now and he has yet to ask his favorite, most beautiful, wonderful Mother in the whole wide world for an air hockey table. If we make it a full week, I may, may be in the clear.

He is getting a tennis racquet. That I can afford. He’ll have to wait a few more weeks though. I don’t do sports in the dog days of August. I’m a cool weather kind of gal when it comes to chasing balls around the court. He just needs to learn to hit the ball on the first bounce, not the 4^th when it is barely coming up to his ankles.

He also ruled the soccer field. Literally. I headed inside to get him some water when I heard him cry. A glance showed him face first in the grass but John was right there so I continued on with my mission. A good thing too but more on that a little later. When I returned he was still whimpering or I should say, he started whimpering again since I hadn’t yet added my condolences to the mix. I asked who was responsible for taking him out but he couldn’t remember the correct name. Unfortunately for the guilty party, he’d already been ratted out by 2 other cousins (we are such a tight-knit family, really). So I told him to go take out the guilty party. Mind you, this is all in jest. I’m just trying to get the kid to laugh again. He may have taken me a little too seriously.

Guilty party was in luck as there were way too many people playing and Little Man was confused as to which one he was supposed to target. How he could forget one of his two favorite cousins is a little beyond me but OK.  He targeted poor Nathan instead. Ever see a 21-year old trying to play soccer while a 4-year old wraps up his legs? I’m amazed he didn’t injure himself trying to avoid injuring Little Man. I’m also amazed he managed to keep his shorts up around his waist. Nathan finally managed to extract himself and the game continues. For all of 20 seconds because that is how long it takes for Little Man to come charging over to the side lines to confer with the referees. According to him “that kid in the red shirt” wasn’t sharing the ball (oh, did I mention this kid couldn’t decide which team he was on so he’d just go with whomever had the ball?). The referees, in their infinite wisdom, told Little Man to put the “kid in the red shirt” in a time out. A ruling he was most enthusiastic (and vocal) about carrying out. So there is Nathan, in the middle of the soccer field sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce in time out.

Play resumes minus any more drama until Little Man runs up for some water. As he heads back for the game he pauses to tell me “Mommy I threw up in my mouth a little. Just a little.”

WHAT?  Oh no you don’t. Come back here. What did you just say? Did you say you threw up?

“Yes Mommy but it was in my mouth and just a little.  It’s no big deal Mommy. I fine.”

Yeah. Nice try. Water! NOW! Oh, and shade. Get your butt in the shade. No you are not going back to play until you cool down a bit.

And I proceed in an extremely lame attempt to explain heat stroke. To a 4-year old. He lasts all of 3 minutes in the shade and he’s off and running again with a promise that he won’t throw up again; that he’s fine. He did pinky swear that if he felt nauseous or faint he would come back to the shade and sit… for a very, very long time.

He really was fine which was good because otherwise I would have tossed him in the lake to cool him down and the poor kid can’t swim.