Thanks a LOT, Uncle Stevie

N and I had one of our 'date nights' last night, since Baroy had a rehearsal to go to for a couple of scenes of his a local theater is doing. I baked a lasagna for the event, since Baroy doesn't eat pasta (I know!) or cheese (I KNOW!) and I try to save such meals for evenings when he's not eating at home.

As we dug in into lasagna served on our good plates ("I'll set the table, Mommy," N said, "for a special occasion" SWOON), N swallowed wrong and began to cough. He then put his hands around his throat, and bugged out his eyes.

"N!" I barked. "Say something!"

He stared at me.

"NOW!" I said, starting to rise from chair and reach for him.

"What?" he asked, smiling, and dropping his hands. "I was just kidding around..."

Relieved, I dropped into my chair and explained to him that I'd wanted him to say something, because that would let me know that he was getting air into his lungs, and I didn't need to worry that he was really choking, like bad choking.

He considered this for a minute.

"You know Daddy and Uncle's president?" he said.

"Huh?"

"Daddy and Uncle's president. He got shot in the throat. And then his head blew up and he was dead."

Oh, for...Eight days with Uncle Stevie--Kennedy-obsessed Uncle Stevie--and this is what my son comes home with.

"Oh, you mean President Kennedy?"

"Yeah, him. And then this guy shot the guy who shot him. And he thought he was a hero, but he wasn't. He was a bad guy."

"You know, N, Uncle Stevie shouldn't have told you about that."

"He didn't tell me. He showed me about it on the computer."

Oh. MUCH better.

"Well, he shouldn't have shown it to you either."

"Well, he did," N replied, matter-of-factly. "And it's in my head now, and I'm not going to forget it."

I bet you won't, kiddo.

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Several of you asked for an update on Book Decision 2009. In short, my faith in how well out-of-sight-out-of-mind works with this kid was well justified.

In slightly longer, he got upset about the IDEA of a book purge when I mentioned it in the car, and seemed a little...bemused...by how empty his shelves were when we got home. BUT I presented it to him as a surprise (he kept his eyes shut, etc.) AND he had no time to be sad about it, because the box of books from my stepfather had just arrived when we got home. So after viewing what had been done to his room (I moved a little furniture as well, so it wasn't just the book shelves that looked different) he opened the box and was SO excited by what was in there (The Dangerous Book for Boys! Dinosaur's Fat Cat! a biography of Tiger Woods! a couple of the Stink Moody books! The Houdini Box!!!!) that all I had to say was, "See? Now you can go put them on your book shelves because you have room!" He said he wanted to go by himself to "organize" his new books...and that was it.

I did tell him in the car that we kept pretty much all his books (which is true in the sense that we kept any book he would have a CHANCE of remembering), and that I would be happy to go find any of the books he wanted...All he would have to do is tell me which book he was missing. So far, he hasn't mentioned a single one.

Apparently, not so much on the permanent damage. I should have saved that angst for something else, I guess.