Well, where to begin here...guess we should begin with the weekend preceeding school, just to give you a flavor of "the boys" in action. I don't know if even I am ready for that....So, I will hit the high spots and you can fill in the low spots with your own knowledge of the foibles of raising kids...Deal?

Saturday, Mom went and had a make over at Glamour Shots...big adventure for Mom, especially when the remaining activities of the day involved (1) shopping for school supplies and (2) cooking supper. When I got home from my sole extravagant adventure in quite some time, I was met by two rather anxious characters.

Travis, who is now 5, looked at me and said "Mom! You wook pweddy!" That was all set aside as he helped to bring in the stuff from the car. Travis was just in awe that he got new clothes and school supplies of his very own. This Kindergarten stuff has been weighing heavily on his mind since the day he turned 5. The 6th of April, the day after his birthday, he was very disappointed that he couldn't actually go to school even though he was five... "Oooohhhhhhh! Tank you bery bery much, Momma for my new clothes! And all my stuff for school!" What mother wouldn't melt at the sound of those words?

Billy, who obviously inherited his father's "observance genes", went through the unveiling of the school supplies, sat across the dinner table from me, and said nothing until it was time for him to go to bed. Just before he kissed me goodnight, a good 6 hours after I had returned home, his sole comment was "Mom! What did you do to your face?" I just shook my head and sighed....so much for being the big eight year old know it all. I have this feeling this will be a long school year if this is any indication of how much attention he is going to pay to details....*sigh*

Sunday was the average "Stop running in the house!" ,"Pick up that stuff that you just left lying on the floor!", "Close the door behind you when you come in and out, please!", "Why don't any of your socks have mates anymore?", "How do you expect me to wash something that you didn't put in the clothes hamper?", "What did you say you wanted for lunch again?" ,"Aren't you afraid of getting your nose frostbit if you keep hanging out in the refrigerator?","How can you possibly be hungry again...you just ate!", "Who keeps flipping the ice dispenser to crushed ice and clogging up the dispenser and then walking away while the cubes melt all over the floor?", normal kind of day. That is, until the evening meal.

We were sitting peacefully at the table, when Travis piped up (in an effort to make that salad go away) with a comment that almost counteracted all that lady clairol has done to hide the grey hairs he is putting on my head in large bunches. "Welp, Mom....I just don't know about that Bobbye"

Bobbye is the babysitter's daughter, who is Travis' age and would be the one riding with him on the school bus today. So, I listened intently... "What about Bobbye?" I asked him cautiously.

"Welp...I just don't know, Momma....You seeeeeeee, Bobbyeeeeeeeee...welp, sheeeee keeps asking meeeeee for sex all the time." Then, he stopped to see my reaction.

I did manage to supress the urge to laugh hysterically...somewhat. And yet, part of me was screaming on the inside "What is the world coming to? This is MY BABY!" I tried to ignore what he had just blurted out, but it burned all the way across my ears....

"Momma, I just don't know about Bobbyeeeeeeeee. I mean sheeeeeeee keeeeeeeeeeeps asking meeeeeee for sex alllllllllllll the time!"

Dumbfounded, I looked to Billy, with his know it all presence, trying to read his reaction and to see if he had the slightest idea what Travis was talking about. Mr. Wizzard came up with a blank stare that told me he didn't have a clue this time.

"Well, Travis," I stalled, "ummmmmmmmm.....what is sex, anyway?"

"Welp, Momma, Bobbbbbbbyeeeeeeee, sheeeeeeeeee always keeps kissin on me and stuff. Sheeeeeeeee is my girlfwiend and weeeeeeeee are going to get marrieeeeeeeed some day when I get biggerrrrrrr. But sheeeeeeeee always keeps asking meeeeeeeeee for sex."

No, the grey hair that was caused by that single moment did not fade back into the background, even as I sighed with relief and smiled at him. That "I understand" look, followed by an inner feeling that somehow I could only hope that he would still think that hugging and kissing was sex until he is well into his fourties.

"Well, Travis, when that happens, you really need to tell Bobbye's mom....it will all be ok."

"Nooooooooooo, momma! I tan't. Bobbyeeeeeeeeeee will be mad at meeeeeeeeee if I do daaaaaaaaat. Sheeeeee is my girlfwend and I don't want her to beeeeeeeeeee mad at meeeeeeeeeeeee."

Hmmmmmmmmm....such a dilemma for a five year old. Should I be a snitch and risk a "fwend" or should I keep my mouth shut and lay this on mom later on today and see if it causes coronary distress? I see which one he chose. I am voting on the snitch thing, personally, although I will remain somewhat distant from the situation until he has a chance to work things out some on his own.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhh, and momma? Bobbye has cwabs."

"That's nice, dear...." was all I could say, as I choked back the laughter of relief welling up from deep inside. I just wasn't sure I was ready for this educational tip of the day quite so soon after the other scandal.

Billy, who finally found a subject that interested him, started talking about the hermit crabs that Bobbye and her brother had brought home from their vacation. I was amazed at all the things they could tell me the crabs had done to and on them. Lively supper conversation is not lacking in this household, I can see.

So, this morning, all dressed up in their new clothes, new shoes, and backpacks in tow, they came to that age old plea.... "Mom! We need lunch money!" So, I carefully placed some money in each of two envelopes, marked their name, their teacher's name and their room number and grade on each, packing them off to school. I haven't seen that much excitement in Travis and so much confidence, since.....well, since the tooth fairy visited him twice for the first tooth he lost about a month ago. And yet, there was a certain sadness to this event, because my baby wouldn't be quite the same anymore. He looked so grown up...so ready to face the world without me. Thank heavens I wasn't going to be the one putting him on that big yellow bus. Best left to the strong of heart, cause Mom was turning to mush at the very thought of it all.

So, on the way home, the conversation was different tonight. More grown up, so it seemed, as each recanted the events of his day. Billy made new friends, as I knew he would. He thought his teacher is great. Riding the bus again after a year of the sitter taking him to school and picking him up was "Kewl"...why did I know that already? And, the bus safety rules came rattling from his memory banks, all processed and tucked neatly away. He had a "great day", and he "likes his new school".

Travis thinks his teacher is "bery, bery, bery nithe", and he "made a lot of new girlfwends today". He was "powite" (according to him), "waised his hands high" when he wanted something or wanted to say something, "got to dwink mik" at break time, had "two weeeesesses" and a nap. They got the child to sleep at naptime...something I haven't succeeded with since he was 2....it figures. But, there "was dis kid with a big bottom wip hanging out who said he was gonna stab meeeee in the eye with a fort." Hmmmmmmm....just what a mother wants to hear about her baby's first day of school.

But, with the "big brother knows how to handle this" attitude welling inside him, Billy explained very calmly that Travis needs to tell someone these things. That when the kid gets in trouble and "he WILL get in trouble for that", that Travis just needs to say, "Sorry, I didn't get you in trouble, your actions got you in trouble." I thought, "Wow...where did this come from?", but I was very proud of him. And, I tried to back up the thought with a little reinforcement pep talk.

To this Travis replied, "Mom, I am wissening to my big bwother. He is bigger, so he knows dese tings."

I looked in the mirror as we rounded the last corner and said "Sometimes he knows these things....", remembering a two day suspension in first grade for blatant disobedience which wasn't discovered until a very compact pocket knife with a blade the size of a file on a small nail clipper indescretely fell out of Mr. Wizzard's pocket during gym class. Yeah, "sometimes".....

"Sometimes? I know it all all the time, Mom!" Billy stated matter of factly. And then he laughed at the thought of what he had just said. "Gotta make ya laugh sometimes, Mom."

Just keep me laughing, son. Just keep me laughing.