Being Nathan's Mom

Being Nathan's mom wasn't easy this weekend. In spite of the fact that Simon finished painting his room...And he now has sandstone arches on his wall a la southern Utah...

...still, the boy was, well...crabby. Swathed in an old tablecloth and armed with a plastic saber, Nathan battled adult oppression all weekend.

Maybe he just needs a haircut. That took quite a bit if fight out of Sampson, after all. I need to get that taken care of before I go to Wisconsin next week, or my mother will see to it for me.

Things got particularly tricky at dessert time. I had made chocolate malt pudding; I guess Nate appeared in the kitchen demanding some and was told by Si that he couldn't have any unless he asked politely. Typical small child, he only heard the "can't have any" part and went away wailing. He came to find me in another room and sat for awhile, looking mutinous. Then he buckled on his sword with great determination and muttered,"We're going to settle this once and for all." He strode back to the kitchen, looking so dangerous that I followed him to see what he was up to. He drew arms and shouted, "Dad, I'm going to give you ONE MORE CHANCE! Are you going to give me the pudding or not!?" "Nathan, as I said, you can have pudding if you ask for it politely." "Oh. Well, can I please have some pudding?" "Yes, now you may." He was completely deflated.