Zack attack

Zack has been, um, interesting this week. Tearful one minute, giggling the next - fearful that I have abandoned him at the PTA meeting. Disdainful and unresponsive to adults. Pure joy in boy's skin.

My cup runneth over.

But between the meltdowns and madness, there have been some bright spots.

For instance, Zack's best friend, super Mollie, has lost both bottom teeth this week. He is both impressed and so envious he can hardly take it. Not to be outdone orally, he told me that the 'pink floor in the back of his mouth is itchy, feels weird'. When I explained the whole 6 year molar erupting from his gums thing, he was astounded. Fine, let the lady lose her teeth; I'll grow more. (I didn't have the heart to tell him that Mollie will get more too.)

And upon hearing me say that I thought some TV character wasn't very nice, he shot me a look (and it was not the look of love) and carefully explained that that's because "he's a villl-llinn". He seemed sincerely concerned that I couldn't grasp such a concept. (See also: my low IQ.)

But listening to Zack do his math homework (yes, I said listening) topped my charts this week. The instructions were to cut out the little fishie numbers and paste them next to the little wormie numbers; so that the 8 fish was next to 9 worm, and so on. (And believe me it was written in some awkward way that does not translate well here or anywhere. Pick a number that is one less than the other number. Cumbersome.) Easy-peasy for Zack. Too easy-peasy. To ramp up the fun, the fish started rebelling, refusing to hang out with their appropriate worms. The worms were hurt, shunned. There was lots of yelling and joking and great drama. When the curtain closed, the numbers lined up on the page and the homework was done. He sighed, pleased with himself and gave me a grin.

Those are the moments I would bottle if I could, and sip from when the day is long.