Chas – Page 22 – Stephanie Sicore

March 30, 2006

Breakfast at Stephanie’s

Damon watches the boys on the weekends, when I’m at the gym or running errands. He curls around his guitar, playing the slide to paint the background blue, while the boys tear up the house and yard (little satellites of destruction that they are). Most of the time, they hang outside. But the rainy days have caught up with us, and lately the boys have amused themselves indoors, heating up frozen pizzas, devouring bulk bags of pita chips and watching sci-fi flicks together.

Chas, who can hardly follow movie plots, has begun dressing himself in my clothes while I am away. The other morning he was wearing a diaper and an orange tie-dye tee, when he found my pink and yellow Donna Karan camisole. Quietly, he negotiated the cami over his tee, until he was able to prance around proudly with the new sheer layer, grazing the pink rickrack hem along the floor. This morning, while I was brushing my teeth, I watched him dig through my unmentionables until he found a pair of calvins, and squeeze his head and arm through on of the leg holes. So pleased! He paraded around the house with a sideways smile, and when we caught each other’s grin, he exploded in laughter, straight from the belly. I chased him down the stairs, giggling, and lifted him up the the table for breakfast. And then I grabbed the camera, so I could get a few pictures for his wedding reception.

March 25, 2006

The Butt of My Brain

We meet our friends every afternoon to play at a playground. It’s a standing date: around 4pm every day. By that time, at least one of the toddlers has taken a nap, and the big boys have built up considerable steam. They scamper, laugh, and shout potty talk like nobody’s business. Polly and I stand, exasperated, torn between roles of shadowing the little ones as they teeter on the edge of tall perches and jumping into the storm to interrupt the trashy talk. We wonder why they can’t just use other words, when quiet time at home consists of lengthy discourse on subatomic particles and static electricity. Why Ford can’t make any word substitutions when he’s so clever to point out that “I don’t like to snuggle in the bed like a pack of batteries.” Instead, we hear endless “BUTT-HEAD!” and “BOOTY BUTT-HEAD!” and “PENIS HEAD!” in the drone of play combat that orbits around the playscape following a stampede of little feet.

To make matters worse, Chas loves to follow them around the playground, bouncing and roaring, tumbling every now and then as he tries to keep up, but occasionally shouting, “BUTT!!!!” He bends forth with a red face to proclaim the profanity as loudly as possible. It’s hard enough trying to get him to say normal words, like “sock” and “help” and “horse,” but I get so irate when I catch Ford leaning into Chas’ face, to teach him to properly pronounce “BUTT.” At the playground, when people hear “BUTT-HEAD” coming from Chas, they turn to me, surprised and amused. At these times, my eyes try rolling back into the nether region of my skull, to a place where fading dreams linger: where my house would always be tidy, where I’d ride horses while the kids napped, and where my boys would grow up perfect.

March 24, 2006

DFW Intl. Airport

Into the relentless sunny wind, Chas ran towards the distant airplane as it lifted off the tarmac. “DET! DET!” he shouted, pointing, and Ford translated it for me: JET, JET! HE reached the end of the berm and stopped still, apprehensive, as the jet loomed closer. But the roaring became intense, and Chas turned round and trotted back to me, quietly frowning to the ground, pink cheeks bouncing. I scooped him up and together we tracked the gleaming silver jet as it thundered over us.

Ford is into jet turbine engines. He likes to describe their operation, and tell stories involving turbines. He will pick up a gall off the curb and tell me, “Mom, do you know why this gall is so fast? It’s because it’s a jet TURBINE-powered gall that shoots through the sky and into your eyeball!” or “I’m so fast because I have two jet turbine engines, spinning like huge atoms, on my sides.” He has been into jet turbines for while, but I can’t remember what set it off, this fiery interest. These days, he’s all about atoms, particles, molecules, jet turbines, and electromagnetic forces. I’m not cut out for this.