Children have their own logic

by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 12, 2009 . 11:56AM

For Mother’s Day weekend, I headed back to the motherland, which, for me, is Illinois. We packed up the car and settled in for a long ride and a short weekend filled with driving, driving and more time in the car driving. Leon is a fantastic sport about driving and allowing me to veg out in the passenger seat doing whatever I need to do to keep my boredom in check. AJ is a wonderful car rider and has been known to stare out the window for hours at the scenery when he has nothing else to do. This trip, however, he had Diary of a Wimpy Kid,Diary of a Wimpy Kid: Rodrick Rules, and Diary of a Wimpy Kid: The Last Straw. I was skeptical of these books, at first, because they don’t look like prime, scholarly, reading material for my 8-year old. And that tells you how smart I am. He’s devouring these things. I’m about to go pay the author, myself, to write some more.

Anyway, the trip there was quiet and I expected the trip back to be quiet as well. Until the turtle. Woe to us. Oh, woe, woe to parents everywhere who have children who desperately feel the need to make a home into an ark. As you can see, if you’ve perused my family page, we have a full house. If anything, I’d get another dog or some fish before we added anything outside of those creatures to this home. However, AJ and his cousin Lola (not a showgirl, just a fierce, smart, pretty, funny 8-year old girl), had been exploring in the back yard with a rabid cat and their big imaginations.

The rabid cat has been slumming on my mother’s porch for a while now. My mother hates cats and would like nothing more than to club it. We’re animal lovers and AJ would not forgive her for the transgression, so she has resigned herself to yelling at it and waving her hands like a woman on fire when she sees the cat. Lola, also an animal lover, and AJ, decided to play in the backyard with the cat because it was far from the disapproving adult eyes. The cat, however, was hungry, so he/she was on the prowl and found a turtle who, until this point, had been minding it’s own business in the backyard.

AJ and Lola found a plastic Crayola sidewalk chalk box and proudly showed off their new pet. Lola’s dad identified the turtle as a box turtle and the fight quickly began over 1/what the name of the turtle would be and 2/who would get to keep the turtle. AJ wanted to name the turtle Harold. AJ wants to name every animal Harold. The fight over the name wasn’t with Lola, it was with me and how every pet didn’t have to be named Harold. That lasted about 5 minutes with Lola finally chiming in that SHE wanted that turtle and since she saw it first it was hers.

Now, the day before had been a rough one for AJ and Lola. They play really well together and enjoy time with each other, but it had turned into a screaming match after hours in the car while we went to another cousin’s graduation. This turtle could have been the end of this friendship/cousinhood. Lola’s mom tactfully offered that they have a creek and could always find turtles. It didn’t matter. Lola wanted this one and she’d found it fair and square. AJ felt like he deserved it because he’d named it Harold. He. named. it. Harold. Why does he always name everything Harold?

Leon settled this by stating a statute about turtles getting confused out of their habitat so it’s not legal to move them. I have no idea as to the genuineness of this statement, but AJ accepted it because his “dad knows legal stuff.” Later, however, AJ proved that he’s definitely my son. His critically thinking little mind popped out with “DADDY! I can have this turtle!” He beamed. “This turtle isn’t a BOX turtle because I found it straight out and then PUT it into the box. It didn’t come in the box and there wasn’t a box around it when I found it, so it’s not a BOX turtle.”

Yep. That’s my boy.

And he didn’t get to keep the turtle.