Alex the Power Ranger

A Power Ranger super hero was just in my office, pretending to be my son named Alex. Next to him was his sister Sophie, who very much resembled a six-year old girl wearing a dragon costume. According to the Power Ranger, I had made them chicken nuggets and French fries for dinner, and they had both just gone to school. When I suggested they have coke for dinner, both pretend siblings shook their heads vigorously and said, “No! Milk or water.” It’s interesting how the rules that Ethan fights all week long are the same ones he chooses to enforce himself in pretend play.

Meanwhile, in real life, I have turned into a spotted red monster with my body covered in big ugly rashes and red spots. My itchy condition is the result of an adverse reaction between the sun at Crane Beach, and the antibiotic, amoxicillin (which I was taking because all of us came down with Strep Throat when we got back from Baker Pond). No, amoxicillin is not supposed to do that, but well, it did.

When I dropped Ethan off at sports camp today, I wondered if everyone would stare at my spots, but they mostly seemed busy and didn’t comment at least. When I picked Ethan up today he complained that the camp was boring because they had no toys to play with, even though I had seen him playing happily and intently for 20 minutes when I arrived early to pick him up. Oh, and he complained that I didn’t pick him up early.

Recently I’ve been watching some episodes of SuperNanny, one of the numerous shows in which a dumpy older woman from England goes to people’s houses and gives them parenting advice. This one is actually pretty good, and I’ve learned a whole lot already from it. It’s also reassuring realizing that Ethan does what other kids his age do, and that parents everywhere get frazzled sometimes.