First let's get one thing out of the way. I am an idiot.
Now, now. Don't be kind and refute that point. It's true. It is. I went to spin class today. Why you ask? I have no clue why. I considered calling the gym and telling them to release my seat. I did not make such a call. Instead I hurriedly located my sneakers and grubby clothes and headed over thinking that maybe riding today would stretch out the knee.
I think it actually did - stretch out the knee that is. However, I still can't walk down stairs without wincing and now my calves are sore.
But that's all besides the point. . .
As has become our custom, the little guy goes with me each Saturday. He doesn't need to. My husband is home to play with him. My daughter stays home. They could all, you know, bond or something. He, however, this child that used to scream like we were yanking his fingernails off with tweezers if we dared leave him, he loves all sorts of child care now. He'll happily tot off to the gym's room as if we're handing him a dream vacation. He begs to go. He brings a snack and a water bottle then tells us all about how tired he is from excercising.
On our ride over this morning, Logan does something that is not uncommon for him to do. He started to ruminate on some out-of-the-blue topic that makes you pause and wonder what got him going on such a thing.
"Volcanos are only on islands," he informed me after sitting quietly in the middle row of our van for about a mile.
"What?" I asked. I am really such an eloquent parent at times. He repeated himself and I had to actually pause another minute to figure out if Mt. Saint Helen's was land-locked or not. I informed him that *some* islands are sleepy volcanos, but not all volcanos are islands.
"Can I go see one?" he said. I could see those little wheels turning. You come to anticipate it after a while. He got a far-off look as he calcuated what he'll toss into the raging inferno. I started to reply - no, we will not go see a volcano anytime soon although Mommy really would be quite happy to make a trip to Hawaii.
"Where is the volcano in New Jersey?" he asked.
"We don't have one honey," and before I could say more, he interrupted me.
"Yes we do. We have toy ones."
"Ok, that is true, I suppose," I replied trying to formulate the most tactful way to handle this. "Sweetheart those are toys though, not, you know, real volcanos."
"Oh Mommy!" For a three-year old he has perfected that "Geez, Ma, you're a dork!" tone of voice. "I'd really only want a toy volcano. If I had a real one I might get lava on me and then I'd be hot."