For those of you not familiar with the term “grasshopper” as a synonym for student, please consult the 70s television show, Kung Fu, for further explanation.
My little guy is a product of trickle down eco-mom-ics x 4. The first son only had to listen to eco-mom-ics created for him – eco-mom-ics being a branch of knowledge concerned with the eduction, discipline and spiritual development of children.
The second son had to listen to eco-mom-ics lectures on both his and his older brother’s level. The 3rd one, his, and his two older brothers. It’s kind of like being forced to not just sit through your class, but each brother’s class, too.
The little guy has sat through 5 levels of eco-mom-ics.
And yesterday, the little grasshopper tried to leapfrog the Master eco-mom-ic-ist (LOL).
If you’ve hung around the Blue Cotton counter for awhile, maybe since the beginning, you might have read the following about my 3rd son, my joyful son, – about breaking the communication code:
Joyful has grown beyond snugglebuggles and telling me he loves me, but he communicates in code now. Let me give you an example:
That’s code for, “I love you, Mom.” Now that I have broken the code, I just smile, saying, “I love you, too.” Funny, he hasn’t asked for a pet anaconda for awhile.
Then there’s this question. “Mama,” he asks (mama is the word of choice when he wants something. Mom is for the really serious stuff). “Mama, can I have $15?”
After hearing this question for months (of course, I didn’t turn over the money), I broke another code. Money was code for hug. The amount he asked for determined how many hugs he really wanted.
He hasn’t asked for money in quite a few weeks, either.
He no longer brags on my food. Instead, he will say, “Great dinner, Mom. . . . Not.” I’ve learned that’s code for “YUM.” (Click here to read The Freshness After the Storm)
My little one who has endured eco-mom-ics lectures to his brothers from academic lectures and activities, to manners to people skills, to relationship-building with the opposite sex, to baking, grilling, house-keeping to morality and everything including apparently the foreign language of tween to teens.
“Mom, I want 20 hugs. That’s code for $20,” he said as he munched on the chocolate pumpkin bread as he sat at the counter after school.
The Eco-mom-ics Master from the podium that is the counter, cast an assessing gaze on this baby of the family who next week will be a decade and a year. This son who the Freshness after the Storm (also known as Joyful) christened with the Spirit name, “Love” – our Human Resource guy amidst the brotherhood – trying with mental agility to leapfrog the Master.
. . . and almost succeeding.
“20 Hugs is code for 20 kisses,” I countered. “Want them now?”
And for the moment, the eco-mom-ics master retained her place at the podium.
Additional Note: My teen and his sweet, ginger girl friend said this conversation took place between me and the teen. I will concede it might have – but that the little guy took the mantra up about 5 minutes later. To quote Hillary Clinton, “I don’t recall. . . .” My friends say the slippery memory is not dementia – it’s menopause.
Recounting this conversation in the car, they said that after translating the 20 hugs to 20 kisses we continued wrangling with code translation – and 20 kisses was code for 20 compliments – and, just maybe, if the de-coding had continued, the 20 compliments could become 20 things to do to make home a nice place like cleaning your room, tidying the bathroom, mowing the lawn. . . . .