A Time Machine, A Highway, Focus, And The Dessert Compartment
Eli 7.7 brought this picture into my study:
Directions (which I wrote down verbatim):
"There's a little arm inside the Time Machine that you use to control the eye. Then, you aim it to where you want to go, and it can go to the past or the future. When you've decided where you want to go, you press a button in the Time Machine and it takes you to your destination."
Notes:
"There's a little arm inside the Time Machine that you use to control the eye. Then, you aim it to where you want to go, and it can go to the past or the future. When you've decided where you want to go, you press a button in the Time Machine and it takes you to your destination."
Notes:
1. A helicopter-type blade is on top.
2. The control panel looks a bit like a playing card and is below the eye.
2. The control panel looks a bit like a playing card and is below the eye.
We're building a prototype.
He also brought in this:
Since I have absolutely zero art talent (Gloria is quite good, though), I'm always blown away when Eli shows me something like this. He made it in art class, and I'm sure the teacher helped them with technique, but it's a beautiful piece of work.
***
I can't remember the last time Eli 7.7 threw a fit. He just doesn't. He doesn't take "no"personally. A few weeks ago, though, we went to Borders and he wanted a book from the discount rack. It was only five dollars, but I'd made it clear before we went in that we weren't going to buy anything, and I said no. He didn't throw a fit, but he argued and whined for a while, which is very unusual for him.
Last week, we went to Borders again, but before we went in, I said "Are we going to have a replay of what happened last time? Because if we are, we're not going."
"We won't, Dad," he said, quite solemnly.
We'd been in the bookstore for about fifteen minutes, and he was happily looking through books. He turned to me and said, "See, Dad? You're on a one-way street to the No Argument Highway!"
***
As you can imagine (if you don't already have kids), seven-year-olds have plenty of energy, the kind of energy that could send a rocket to the moon--with fuel left over. On Tuesdays, I help Eli 7.7 with his shower and put him to bed.
For some reason, he was still completely wound up, even at 8:00 p.m. (when he's normally pretty tired). I couldn't get him to concentrate on anything for more than two seconds, and we were getting way behind (lights out at 8:30 on school nights), so I looked at him and I said "Eli. Focus."
He looked at me, started shaking his skinny little butt in a dance, and started singing: "FOCUS! Focus focus uh uh uh uh uh, FOCUS, yeah yeah yeah!"
***
Last night at dinner, Eli stood up from the table and said "MAN! I am STUFFED!" He put his plate and cup on the kitchen counter, then came back fifteen seconds later and said "Can I have dessert?"
"You just said you were stuffed!" I said.
"Dad," he said patiently, "I was talking about my MEAL compartment. It's FULL. But my DESSERT compartment is still empty."
<< Home