I first saw “Finding Nemo” ten years ago. It made me cry. It still makes me cry. At least I think so. I was lying on the floor, snuggled up with the kiddos watching it today. Mac and Baby were on either side of me. They were arguing with each other over where the most comfortable place to lay their heads on my body was. And by comfortable they meant squishy. They had designated several areas. I’m pretty sure it was the movie that was making me cry.
I recently switched swim lesson times for Mac. The whole 5:55pm thing wasn’t awesome. We were transitioning acceptably up until the end of the lesson. Mac insists on changing in the boys’ dressing room. I respect his decision, especially since the sign posted above the dressing room says parents may accompany their children under the age of five. So rules being rules Mac gets to use the dressing room while I wait outside.
That doesn’t mean he’s completely unsupervised. I’ve yelled at him to stop bellowing Christmas carols (in March) and to hurry up and get dressed. I’ve loudly suggested that he shut the curtain while changing his clothes. I’ve demanded that he put on underpants before running to the bathroom. He is most certainly not left to his own devices.
Most of Mac’s antics have occurred during sparsely attended classes mid-day. He seemed to tone them down during the evening class as well. Mostly due to his passionate focus on making it to dinner. But now he’s back to late morning classes and has much to say.
A dad came out of the dressing room and asked me if that was my red headed boy. It is my experience that there is no way this conversation is going to end comfortably for me. Apparently Mac sauntered out of his changing stall and surveyed the dressing room. Arms akimbo he decreed “Hey, you’re a girl, you’re not supposed to be in here.” Fortunately the dad of the little girl was chuckling as he was retelling the story. Mac reappeared soon after, wearing pants and commented “Hey, you’re still here, good thing I’m wearing pants.” Good thing indeed.
Fortunately I can still simply say “I blame the red hair” and people seem to understand. Eventually they’ll start blaming the parents though. About that time I’ll start blaming the bossy older sisters he has.
Again, I have to wrap the blog up early. We’re having a major family crisis. The father figure visited Red Box to pick a movie for family movie night. He came back with the new Iron Man. And by new Iron Man, he means new Iron Man from Japan. Animated. And rated PG-13. So the kids are wailing about having to read during family movie night. And I’m alarmed by animation from Japan and what it takes for them to thinks it’s bad enough for a PG-13 rating. And X-Man’s still sitting in the family room, holding the Cars DVD and bellowing in protest.