This week’s fragments seem to have acquired a Tom-themed bent. It wasn’t intentional.
My 9 year old, Tom, is having an existential crisis. He sat with tears in his eyes on Monday afternoon and told me that he’s feels like he’s always pretending to be someone other than himself at school, that he feels like there’s part of him missing, that he can’t connect with the other kids and that he’s not being true to himself. He told me he took up playing the flute and being in the band and doing drama classes to help push these things to the back of his mind and help him feel more involved and that it’s not really working. And the wording of all that is straight from him, I’m barely paraphrasing at all. I was a little bit stunned at the level of introspection and self-awareness, especially as his usual conversational gambit is to relate the plot of the latest movie/book/computer game in excruciating detail until I beg him to stop talking.
I was sitting on the front deck in the sunshine on Thursday admiring Tom’s cactus garden. He’s got a cactus garden because when we went looking for a pitcher plant to complement his venus fly trap we were told that they don’t sell them going in to winter and that they wouldn’t have any in stock until spring. (I surmise that this is because carnivorous plants die off in cold weather and would look far too pathetic to be sold.) So obviously the solution was to buy cacti instead. The one with the big thorns drew blood from my thumb before we’d got them back to the car, it’s called a fish-hook cactus.
I was a little worried about them over recent weeks, you’re not really supposed to water them in the winter and we’ve had days and days of torrential rain. They don’t seem to mind though, in fact there’s imminent flowering happening.
This afternoon I got a call from the school to tell me Tom was looking decidedly green about the gills and could I come and get him. So I rushed to finish off what I was doing, packed all my stuff up, excused myself to my boss and co-workers and was standing at my desk ready to leave. And THEN Adam, who unbeknownst to me was working from home today, rang to ask if the call he had missed on the home number earlier had been me. So I told him to go get Tom seeing as it would take him 5 minutes rather than my 25 minutes to get there. But I came home anyway because I couldn’t be bothered unpacking my bag again. And now I have office work I’ll need to do over the weekend. Bother.
Tom is now lying in the sun on a bench on the front deck in his pyjamas. Which is fair enough I suppose.
Whimsy of the week:
Don’t forget to go visit Mrs 4444’s place and catch up on all the other fragmenting going on about the place!