Day waxes long.
Rush of children fill home in from outside; ready for lunch.
Lunch. Lunch is late.
Strong 6- now 7
washing up in the bathroom-
Mom hurrying with peanut butter, bread, and jam…
children all around …
7 shouts over his shoulder..
“Mom- when are you going to make those… torpedoes again. I really liked those torpedoes…””
Mom stops spreading peanut butter. Looks across the room- “Torpedoes? What’s a torpedo?”
Tall Son at the table- quickly offers-
Second son calls from the play yard where he is supervising baby,”Something shot by air force planes!”
“A weapon of war-“Tall Son calls again…
“No-No” I say- “not torpedoes— he means something else…” I try to get my words out before more accurate descriptions of torpedoes fly across the room.
Second son leaves the play yard. Hurriedly, he reappears holding two favorite air force planes in hand. Begins to offer a detailed explanation of what a torpedo is-complete with a visual.
(Thank you son… I, I know what a torpedo is…)
Strong 7 says- “you know- those rolled up things you make Mom…” the words trail off…
Mom smiles…”Tortillas… you mean tortillas…”
Other boys say “Oh… tortillas.”
I look down at second son.
“I, I know what a torpedo is…”
Takes a little realization for them to understand.
They really thought I didn’t know what a torpedo was.
Boys. The things they say.