Stephen King Junior is holed up in my office making sentences. He’s been home from school camp for around four hours, and already he’s written pages and pages to fill in the gaps in the Godzilla movie (the parts where I almost slept, probably). Pages. I like a bit of healthy competition. I don’t like having my butt kicked.
Actually, I do like SKJ kicking my butt. It’s motivating, it’s nice to look at, but best of all, it’s him. Overhauling my output, smashing out his smashing verbs, talking ideas, too many at once, is what he does.
It’s funny when one of your kids isn’t around, the quiet, the difference. My husband, Reedy, said SKJ’s absence made the week seem longer. And the quiet. You think with all the quiet, the balance, that the troublemaker has left town. It turns out that it doesn’t matter which one of them is missing the place is too quiet. I think I like the trouble.
Stephen King Junior said camp was ‘fun’. This means a lot. He’s a cards-close-to-the-chest type of guy and often doesn’t want you to know he’s had fun. Not sure why? Confidence thing? I have done this myself and I think it was because of my I knew the sky could fall, so when it wasn’t falling I sure as heck wasn’t going to jeopardize it by saying I was having fun.
I hope that’s not SKJ.
It may have been, but now due to swapping schools, finding himself, he’s allowed to have fun and show it.
God, I missed that kid this week.
He’s bright and funny, we have our jokes, his giggle is precious. He wears too many clothes, it worries his dad, but I’m going with it. If he wants to be boiling and look like a freaking weirdo, who am I to stop him?
This afternoon I picked up after not seeing him for five days, I had to stop myself running through the school gate (I don’t want me to look like a freaking weirdo). And there he was. Playing with his friends. He has friends now, kids who look after him and care what he thinks. I caught up with his teacher who looked like he might sleep for a year. He said SKJ had involved himself in all the activities (amazing) and ate virtually nothing (not amazing).
My little buddy and me had chocolate milkshakes and talked about camp, and koalas, his fear of clowns and the ocean (not sure where he stands on clownfish), and we held hands across the table. God, I missed him.
We picked up his brothers and they settled into their afternoon routine of giving each other the shits. You’ve gotta smile.
SKJ seemed taken aback by how you can be away for a week, see seals and orcas and koalas and penguins, play with your mates, sustain yourself on bananas and biscuits, and get back home and everything is the same. I remember that anti-climactic feeling after school camp or a stay at Grandma’s. Boring and comfortable are companion pieces.
But SKJ, he likes same. Within minutes he was at his computer, churning out the paragraphs, Godzilla versus M.U.T.Os, the bits they left out. SKJ is home.
my match and his milkshake