Another Link on the Food Chain

Elan got his cast off on Friday.

I desperately wanted to be the one to take him to that appointment. I felt like it was a momentous one, something he'd remember for a long time, and I wanted to be in that memory. But the appointment was at 9 AM and on week two, I didn't think it wise to come to work late, so Y got to take him - and call me an hour later to divulge every detail of the experience. I love when Y gets chatty.

Elan was supremely well-behaved during the cast-removal, and even Dr. King was more amicable than usual. Y claims he even made the stodgy old guy laugh, which I find hard to believe. Elan was thrilled to discover that his old arm looked practically normal, that despite feeling weak and a little ashy, it was otherwise entirely familiar. Y and I were, too. He was shown some exercises to do, which, naturally, Elan took very seriously, and they were out of there - split glow-in-the-dark cast in a Ralph's bag to keep.

Ew. Not a decision Mommy would have made.

Afterward, they stopped at Y's parents house to pick something up, and Elan discovered a praying mantis on the front door. According to Y, the boy's face lit up like a jack-o-lantern and he did a:

"DADDY! COME HERE FAAAAAST! YOU WON'T BELIEEEEEEVE IT! IT. IS. A. REAL. PRAAAYING MANTISSSSSS! BRING A CUP!"

Y, of course, probably wouldn't have recognized a praying mantis for what it was, but after two years' of library late-fees, we've learned to trust the Elan's classifications. So Y, once again, fought his natural squeamishness, took a deep breath, mustered up all of the courage of his 26 years of life, and paper-cupped the enormous, alien-like thing.

What my husband wouldn't do for his sons.

A week ago, during a routine feeding, Elan discovered that one of his two remaining frogs had, in fact, left this world (re: dried up. As gross as it sounds.) Distressed over the possibility that we simply weren't taking good enough care of our pets (we weren't), he suggested we return the Last Remaining Tree Frog to the pet store.

As you might have guessed, I was relieved. More than ever, I really don't have time to drive 6 miles to pick up 5 dozen baby crickets on a weekly basis anymore.

I reported to Y, who suggested: "That would kill our entire day. Just let it go in the backyard."

So very cold. Right?

Well it sounded good to me. Elan happily released "Hopper" (not to be confused with the late Hoppy) along with the baby crickets. And I relaxed for the first time since the rattlesnake sighting.

Elan and Y delayed the school drop-off just long enough to stop home and stash the praying mantis in what had been a very briefly-empty frog tank.

There's something fun about taking your child to school. You get to peek at the world your baby - that little extension of you - shares with people OTHER than you. You get a glimpse of how he or she reacts to people and environments you don't always pre-approve or create, and while there's something remotely sad about that, it's also indescribably thrilling. You're sending your kid Out There. He's got friends and relationships and you don't know every little thing about them.

Y doesn't get this opportunity all that often, so when he does, he really appreciates watching his boys in action - watching their responses, and those of others to them.

When they got there, Elan's class was outside at the playground. Y scanned the area and didn't see any of Elan's friends, so he asked the teacher where they were.

"Oh, they're all over there," she answered, motioning towards a cluster of hunched little-boy backs in a corner of the yard.

"Why?" Y asked. "What are they doing?"

"You don't know?" The teacher seemed surprised.

"Know what?"

"Ever since Elan broke his arm and wasn't able to go on the playground equipment at outside-time, he got the entire class to look for bugs in the bushes instead. They all do that now. Nobody goes on the slide anymore!"

Y smiled: My kid - out in the world.

Elan made his way over to his friends, who tackled him excitedly. "We found worms!" They screamed. "And pincher bugs!"

Elan beamed. "Well I found a praying mantis," he said proudly. "And look - my cast is off."

"Cool!"
"Awe-sim!"
"Your arm looks nice!"

His friends were appropriately impressed. But Elan, ever-cautious Elan, needed them to understand:

"I still can't play on the playground or swing or punch. And you all still have to be VERY careful with this broken arm of mine, okay?"

The boys nodded. Rules were rules.

And a leader is a leader.

That afternoon, I watched yet another little creature devour yet another unsuspecting cricket.