Suction Cup This!!

I know that it is the nature of children to be curious, to experiment and to create. I appreciate this...most of the time. In fact, I have outfitted my own children with lots of "tools" for such things. We have drawers full of glue sticks, rubber bands, tape and scissors. There are Legos, blocks and books galore around our home. There are even pulleys, wheels and suction cups available for the dedicated creator moments. I have tried to create a fertile environment for young minds to plant and take root...and then, please forgive the lame analogy, BLOOM!!

This weekend, two of my sons...one using ingenuity and one not using much of anything, but both wielding the same lovingly gifted "tool", have made me reconsider my desire to nurture such growth. And so I begin...

Jasen walked downstairs Saturday evening, bantering on about the "fabulously lame" SyFy Channel movie he had just endured...or enjoyed (I am unclear.) The closer he got, the harder I strained my eyes, focusing on his face...his forehead to be exact. Something was different...even wrong.

"Jasen, what did you do to your head?" I interrupted him. He stood puzzled for a beat, and then a light went on behind his eyes and they grew wide.

"What do you mean?" He threw his hand to his forehead, coincidentally over the exact spot that had drawn my attention, and rushed into the bathroom, and the mirror. He moaned.

"Oh, Mom. What am I going to do?" He walked out of the bathroom, hand still covering his forehead.

"What did you do to your head? Are you hurt? Come here and let me see." I spewed.

He stepped closer and removed his hand. There in the middle of his forehead was a deep purple, perfectly circular, ping pong ball sized hickey. I gaped. I gaped some more. I stammered something similar to, "howwwwww...wha....you...ohhhhhhh", and then sat back, silent. He spoke.

"I found this suction cup and I was watching that show and I got bored I guess. It was so cool that it stuck to my skin. I pulled it off and re-stuck it, like...10 times. I didn't even think about it leaving a mark."

Suddenly I was overcome with a wicked wave of hysteria. I tried to be an adult, I mean the responsible, teaching and loving kind, but...well I failed. I laughed. I laughed until tears spilled. I grabbed my boy and hugged him and laughed into his shoulder. I pulled back to see that he was laughing to (thank goodness.)

"Well, I am not sure what to do for this. I am sure it will be lots better by tomorrow (when you have to pass the Sacrament to the entire ward.) Take some Advil to help out with the swelling and go to bed." He smiled, having perfect faith in my medical advice, took his Advil and went to bed.

It is now Tuesday. Jasen passed the Sacrament with pride, and a huge hickey. I allowed him to skip school yesterday, my penance for the laughing, but today he went, head held high. The greenish yellow circle in the middle of his forehead only a shadow of what it was just 60 hours ago.

Over the past few days I have asked myself, and many others, what he could have possibly been thinking. After all, he is 12 years old, which in my book seems 'old enough'. The consensus...he wasn't thinking at all.


Spencer got a Nerf dart gun for his birthday. He loves it. He is especially pleased that his sister runs squealing every time he enters a room armed. GREAT!
The cool factor of the dart gun increased when Spencer realized that the darts were tipped with suction cups (yeah, I know...seriously? More suction cups?) He has shot every piece of glass in this house, and I have the little saliva laced circles on all of my windows to prove it. Unfortunately for him, the darts won't stick to anything but glass, even with additional licks. Our walls are to textured and I guess his forehead is to hairy.

He has tried and tried to get a dart to stick onto the ceiling over our stairs. It is high, perhaps 20 feet high and of course, the desired location for a suction dart. Yesterday, he spent an hour laying on his back on the stairs firing up, over and over. The dart would hit, but never stick. Finally he gave up...or so I thought.

Last night, on my way down the stairs for dinner a flash of color caught my eye and I glanced up. There was a dart stuck to the ceiling. I was shocked. Not only did I think it wasn't possible, but I was sure that Spencer had been playing Legos downstairs for that last hour, at least. Surely, enough time had passed since the dart was shot that the saliva would have dried and the dart fallen free.

"Spencer, did you shoot that dart up to the ceiling?" I asked. He jumped up and ran to the stairs.

"Yep, awesome, huh?!" His face was shiny with pride and joy.

"Yep, awesome. So, how is it sticking up there so well?" I asked...not wanting to burst his bubble but still cautiously curious.

"Oh, I stuck my gum to it and shot it up. The gum was really, really sticky. It worked! YES!!" He pumped his little arm in victory. I closed my eyes and counted to 10...twice.

After I burst his bubble, quashed the victory dance and grounded him from gum until he turns 6, I pondered how I would get the gum enhanced dart from my ceiling, over 20 feet out of reach.

Still pondering...

Have a great day and get rid of all your suction cups!!