Thomas Helps Out

Thomas desperately wanted to have a new DSi game and, apparently, would die a sure death if he waited until Christmas to get it. I told him that if he worked like a dog on Friday after school and all day Saturday, I would take him to Target Saturday night, a few seconds before it closed, to get the game. I think he thought I would tell him to put his laundry away, and a few other "light weight" instructions like that and so readily agreed. But I had a very long list of horrors, including "organize the furnace room," "organize and clean out both bathroom cabinets" (we had an AMAZING assortment of expired medications--alarming, actually) "scrape up all crusty cat puke stains," "take down and wash all ceiling light fixtures" (at this, Thomas was incredulous--why would one clean the inside of a light fixture?) and, my most dreaded chore, clear out and organize The Linen Closet. By the time we got through most of my Friday list it was almost 10 pm and I was absolutely dead tired though Thomas was just waking up. I suggested that we put off the linen closet until the next day, but Thomas would have none of it. I told him that he had no idea what he was getting into, as one had to first empty it (I tried to make even that task seem awesomely mighty and fearsome but of course that only made him want to do it more) and then explained that sheets had to be checked, old stuff tossed, moldy stuffed washed or tossed, and so on...Finally, as it always seems to go, Thomas wore me down. (Being with Thomas often causes me to think of Marcus Aurelius' advice, that we should think of ourselves as like a cliff edge, being pummeled by the sea and, though ultimately we will be worn down in the meanwhile we should be calm and stoical, a rock of strength. Yet, as Thomas crashes, pounds, and wears me down, I am not stoical or strong, but a battered, clump of rubble. around which Thomas gleefully does his victory dance.) And so we set to work pulling out sheets, blankets and pillows.

I found the work tiring and dull but for Thomas it was total joy. First of all, he didn't even know we had a "linen closet". ("I thought those were just some doors.") Second, he had no idea all that stuff was in there. Third, he had no idea the closet was SO BIG. ("You could have a secret hide-away in there. Or hide from robbers." [A common theme in Thomas' hind-brain.]

Here Thomas enjoys "sorting" our sheets and blankets:
What mad pleasures will Thomas create when I ask him to help me organize the spice cabinets? The mind boggles...
Amazingly, we did get the linen closet sorted, and Saturday Thomas worked as hard as he did on Friday, scraping, shifting, tossing, moving, and bagging--all the while wittering endlessly and happily about whatever happy thoughts were flitting through his brain at the time.

And, finally, after Frederick went to bed last night we headed out after dark to Target to get the game. (About 5 o'clock I caught Thomas whispering into Frederick's ear, "Frederick, you are very sleepy. You should go to sleep now." Not too surprisingly, he didn't and Thomas had to wait another 3 hours for the game.) Since we had to pay for the game in the electronics department, Thomas had to hold onto the game and receipt while I paid for the other usual crap we need from Target every week (tp, paper towels, socks, cereal, lotion, kleenex, saline solution and I don't know what else but it always seems to add up to about $100). I asked Thomas if he could "manage" the receipt and game or if I should be in charge. He was offended. Then, a few minutes later, I saw him larking about, winging the bag around and around in a tight spin. And, rather like out of a Roald Dahl book, the game went flying out of a small hole in the bag, slowly sailed high up through the air and then fell down onto the floor with a nice "crack." Thomas's face went a bright shade of pink and tears filled his eyes. (And I am sure both of us at that instant recalled a mere 5 minutes earlier as we stood in the game aisle, that Thomas remarked, "It's the LAST GAME ON THE SHELF!!!") He ran over to it BUT, miraculously, the game case was unharmed and, therefore, the game inside was certainly fine. I asked if he had the receipt still. He looked into the bag and froze, and his pink face turned white. I sighed. Thomas, Thomas, Thomas. His eyes darted about wildly, like a man being hunted down by a pack of starving wolves. He dashed off and then, a few minutes later, I saw him sitting on a bench just inside the door, rigidly holding the game in one hand, the receipt in the other, while unblinkingly staring at both.

Amazingly, we made it home without further incident. More amazing, Thomas loaded up the game with no difficulties and has been playing it gleefully ever since. At one point I thought I heard him crying late at night but it turns out that those were explosions of happiness. (Indeed, he is playing it as I type this. Simon asked him to write this blog instead of me but, Thomas insisted that he couldn't possibly, as he has an "especially big boss to battle" or some such thing, I don't know.) And Frederick is up in his room, puttering about, reading books.

And so another weekend slowly draws to a close. The sun is almost ready to set; it is certainly bitterly cold outside. The pond is almost frozen over. [We have so far saved 6 fish from the pond but have at least 7 to go. We had amazing success using a garden rake (!!!) to catch the fish (I KID NOT!) and I will try again in a few days when I get through a particularly awful batch of grading. We have Goldeen, the goldfish we have had at least 5 years and the koi but we do not have the rather badly named "yellowy," the odd, loner fish that refuses to play with the others and has been my favorite for many years.] There is snow flitting about and the ground is starting to freeze solid. The house has cold pockets in it and there are spaces in rooms that are too cold to sit in (and the downstairs bathroom is simply punitive). I think we can officially say 'hello' to winter...