April

Jack got an iPhone. “Wait until eighth” is the phrase (meaning 8th grade), and he is almost there, and we are letting him babysit his brothers for hours now. It was the right time.

He and his father left us for a week, to go up to the Carolinas and hike and camp over spring break, while his brothers stay here and mind-meld with YouTube and I, as always, work on my cases. Upon arrival, he texted me with his new iPhone, said he was “anxcious” and missed me. I texted back that he should just sit with the feeling a bit, to set it to the side and let it be, and get a drink and relax on the couch and breathe a minute. He texted back “That really helped, thank you. I love you. Is it ok if I text you a lot on this. I’m glad I got this phone now I don’t feel so alone.” He’s just so wonderful. There will be battles over the thing, I have no doubt, and it represents some additional dangers that we now have to navigate, but he’s a solid boy with a solid heart. I used to be afraid of iPhones and social media but I’m not so much anymore. “The world is not gentle, I will not always be there to place my hand between his temple and the corners.  There will be blood.” He has practice navigating sharp corners.

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Liam and I are having “the talk(s)” now, weekly, on Monday evenings. We caught him recently searching for some stuff online that made us decide that we need to get these talks going. I am using the same method I used with Jack – I have a couple of books, one by the American Academy of Pediatrics and one by Planned Parenthood. Both are pegged for tweens, matter-of-fact, discussing both clinical/physical changes and emotional ones. Each Monday night, when Jack and Patrick are away at Boy Scouts, I shoo Craig upstairs to watch tv and Liam and I sit together on my bed. He reads a chapter to himself while I sit next to him and read one of my own books, and then when he’s done we chat about the chapter, and just generally about life.

Liam is 10 – nearly 11. He is still emotionally a little boy, in a lot of ways. When we approached him about his search history (which did not yield a lot, due to parental controls, phew), he squirmed and twisted away from us so uncomfortably I thought his head might pop off. I said “son, every human who has ever lived to the age of 10 has been curious about this stuff, we are not mad at you, but I am concerned that you can’t even look at me while we talk about it! What’s up?” and he wailed “I don’t knooooooow, don’t loooooook at meeeeeee!” So now I’m treating these Monday night chats as a sort of exposure therapy. He has to talk about it all with me until he no longer feels shame about it. We are getting there. He has such a brilliant, quick mind. He’s easy to talk to, easy to teach. But he can also think that he is more self-sufficient than he is. We have to constantly remind him that we are here, here for him. He always seems relieved when we remind him, again, that he is not alone.

My iPhone lock screen and home screen are both pictures of Liam, in a bright blue shirt, looking pensive. I just can’t stop looking at him.

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I bought Craig a butterfly growing “kit” for his birthday. It is basically a giant green netted enclosure, plus a coupon for a bucket of five caterpillars, all for the low low price of $25.

The caterpillars came in the mail about a week ago. They were little, nestled into a gross gel layer at the bottom of a plastic cup with air holes in the lid. We watched as they got bigger and bigger, you could almost watch the growth happen, it was so fast. A couple of days ago, they attached themselves to the lid. I grabbed the cup and ran it out to Craig to show him, and the fat caterpillars swung wildly back and forth from their connection point on the lid, but held fast.

Following the instructions, we set the caterpillars, lid and all, into the green net enclosure. The chrysalises (chrysalae?) have hardened, they look just like the pictures in science books. I can’t believe I am 42 and have never done one of these before. (Perhaps I did when I was a kid and have forgotten?) Craig and I are equally amazed at the transformation. We don’t have butterflies yet, but we check on our little buddies daily. He is desperate to feed them with the little dropper that we got with the kit, and I continually have to explain that they can’t eat until they emerge. There is no mouth, from what I understand right now these caterpillars are just mush inside the chrysalis. Totally dissolved, and then reformed.