Boys

Did you know that your children will continue to loose teeth well into their teens? Well, they will. While I have no recollection of the tooth fairy playing any role in my life growing up, the same is not true of my children who have enjoyed regular payments over the years. However, as time marches on and the tooth fairy gets older and tireder, payments have not been as reliable as they once were which led to this unfortunate scene at dinner the other night.

Michael: Ok, who’s the tooth fairy?
Me: Um, the magical, mystical tooth fairy, who knows? Why do you ask?
Michael: Because this is getting to beyond a joke, this tooth (he points to the hole near his front teeth on the lower right which I feel sure somehow has been pointed out before) has been under my pillow for about a fortnight.
Me: You the tooth fairy has many calls on his/her time.
Him: Will I just take the money from your purse?
Me: Somehow that takes away the magic.

Michael (on the way to Sunday mass): Why do I have to go to mass every Sunday when people in my class only go at Christmas and Easter.

Me: Well, families are different. Anyway, imagine if you were me growing up: I stayed with my Nana, Aunt and Uncle and cousins for a couple of weeks every summer and we had to say the Rosary every night. It was so stressful, I used to always lose count of the Hail Marys and Nana had to prod me to stop.

Michael: What’s the Rosary?

Michael has jacked in scouts. It was time for his renewal sub and he decided he had had enough. He really enjoyed the opportunity to be an indoor scout but, increasingly, they were forcing him outside to use his map reading and knotting expertise in the wild and he decided that this was not for him. Also the scout hall was freezing all winter and he was tired of being perished. Alas.

One weekend morning, myself and Mr. Waffle found ourselves watching Michael play “Overwatch”, it was surprisingly relaxing. “Be careful, Michael,” I said, “it looks like there might be baddies around that corner.” “Mum, I am the baddie,” he said. “Oh right, what’s your name then? It’s hard to hear with that deep growling voice.” “Rupert, the Slayer” he said. “Really, that’s a surprising name,” I said and Mr. Waffle and I started singing “Rupert the Slayer” to the tune of “Rupert the Bear” which we thought was hilarious. Our put upon son, said patiently, “No, guys, Reaper as in Grim Reaper, reign of terror, not Rupert as in Rupert the Bear.” This seems more likely but I am sad that the reign of mild inconvenience of Rupert the Slayer is over.