Bottom line?

I need to meet more of my son’s friends’ parents. And, then, I need to learn their phone numbers. And, then I need to call them . . .

Until I was recounting how my 6-year old son spent a good part of his Sunday afternoon to a colleague at lunch (at which point we were DYING laughing), I hadn’t fully realized how . . . well, pathetic, it was that my son spent the whole week-end with (a) me, and (b) a caterpillar. Not to underestimate how freaking cool I am, because I am. And, I am good company dammit. But, that does not excuse the fact that my poor little man’s most exciting part of the day on Sunday was when he discovered and then befriended a caterpillar.

Almost immediately he determined that not only was he going to keep the caterpillar, because, as he proclaimed, “I care about this little guy MOM,” but he was going to build the caterpillar a LEGO house. In our house. I'm no psychologist, but that caterpillar clearly personified (caterpillarified?) Cameron's loneliness and boredom. Needless to say, Cameron rejected my encouragement to build the caterpillar a house outside. Because that's just UNCIVILIZED MOM. In fact, Cameron assumed the role of caterpillar lobbyist and advocate. This carried on full force until Cameron LOST the caterpillar. At which point, he cried uncontrollably. Gee, he really did care about that little guy. At some point, Cameron regained his composure, turned on the t.v., and flipped through the channels until he came to Die Hard.

You know you’re doing something really right or really wrong as a parent when the following conversation takes place with your 6-year old -- Me: “Cam, I’m not sure you can watch that movie, even though it’s on t.v., it’s still kind of violent.” Cam: “BUT I LOVE VIOLENT, VIOLENT’S THE BEST.” Right. [Mind you, this is not the first time this weekend he has said that. The first time was when he exclaimed it loudly in the middle of Blockbuster after unsuccessfully trying to persuade me to let him rent Alexander the Great. Much to his dismay, I opted instead for The Fantastic Mr. Fox . . .]

Seeing the still wet tears in his eyes, I didn’t have the heart to tell him he couldn’t watch the t.v. edited version of Die Hard – after all, it’s not like I was letting him watch 300 or Texas Chainsaw Massacre. [Nor, is the irony of his quick transition from crying over a caterpillar to watching Die Hard, because “violent’s the best,” lost on me.] So I sat down and watched with him, you know, to monitor. I swear it had nothing to do with the younger and shirtless Bruce Willis.

About 30 minutes later, and after flopping all over the couch in true 6-year old fashion, Cameron gasped and pointed next to me. There, on the pillow, was the caterpillar. You can imagine Cam’s glory as he picked the caterpillar up and put him on his chest, where he proceeded to “pet” it for the duration of the movie.

So, yes. I need to arrange play dates for my son. With human children.