Sam's Thoughts on lnteracting with People

 J and I have noticed certain aspects of Sam's personality over the past several years, particularly that he feels most comfortable when he is with just a few people that he knows really well. When he's at home with us, he's very chatty, happy and even silly, but he tends to get quieter when he is placed in big group situations. J, who is an introvert, often tells Sam, "You are your father's son!"

Anyhow, this morning it was interesting to hear Sam's own thoughts about the way that he interacts with people. We haven't really prompted him to think much about his personality or the way that he interacts with people, but Sam started up this conversation earlier today:

Sam: "I'm the person who talks the least at school."

Me: "Well, that's just fine. That's okay." [Pause] "Why do you think that you talk the least at school?"

Sam: "I can't talk a lot at school because there are too many people there. I can't talk to all of them at the same time!"

Sam is quite spot-on in his observations. He doesn't like talking when he is in large groups of people. He gets overwhelmed. Even yesterday, during Thanksgiving dinner, he didn't want to talk to our friends when everyone was together in the dining area. But then when he went into the living room, where our friend L was sitting with her baby girl, Sam opened up and wanted to tell L all about the different characters in Star Wars.

I love my introverted boy. And I love my introverted husband. (It doesn't matter to me whether I have extroverts or introverts in my family; I am an ambivert, myself.) I think it's good that we have a small and close-knit family; our small size fits well with the personalities and emotional needs of its members.

Sam's Ninja Moves

Sam has become quite interested in ninjas lately. In fact, about a month ago, he ended up bonking his head on the leg of our piano while practicing ninja spin moves on the floor. We ended up going to the ER and getting a staple put in his head. He's absolutely fine, and the gash has since healed. But even that accident hasn't deterred him from continuing to practice ninja moves (although he now steers clear of the piano).

I don't mind if he practices ninja moves with the open air, especially since he doesn't seem inclined to fighting actual people. For right now, he seems more interested in the gymnastic/acrobatic abilities of ninjas. I'm not interested in promoting fighting, though. Hopefully we'll keep ninja moves on this kind of a cute level in our house:

"Midnight in Paris" and the "Golden Age"

J just got back from a business trip last night, so he didn't have to work today. And, due to the Veteran's Day holiday, I also didn't have to teach. Although I have worked a little bit today, J and I were also able to have a small date in the middle of the afternoon, which was nice. We went out to eat for lunch and watched Midnight in Paris at home.

I've wanted to see this movie for some time, because I knew that it revolved around some artists and historical figures from the early part of the 20th century. I actually think that this was a really appropriate movie for a historian to see, since historians are often nostalgic for the past in one way or another. I was particularly struck by these two quotes from different parts of the movie:

Paul (the "pedantic" gentleman): "Nostalgia is denial - denial of the painful present... the name for this denial is golden age thinking - the erroneous notion that a different time period is better than the one ones living in - it's a flaw in the romantic imagination of those people who find it difficult to cope with the present."

Gil and Adriana with Toulouse-Lautrec, Degas, and Gauguin

Gil: "That's what the present is. It's a little unsatisfying because life is unsatisfying." (Gil says this in the same conversation with Adriana, when she mentions, "I'm from the '20s, and I'm telling you the golden age is la Belle Epoque.")

Perhaps there isn't a way to create a "Golden Age" in the present, because that defeats the idea of a Golden Age (and the nostalgia that comes with it) altogether. But these quotes made me think about if there is a way to find satisfaction in the present, even in the "unsatisfying" elements of the present. I like the thought of being nostalgic for something that you already have.

First 5K Run

Earlier this month I ran in my first 5K. I'm not really a runner, but I've always liked the idea of being a runner. I've been increasing my distance during my treadmill runs at the gym, in hopes that I could do a race this year - even if it was a short race.

Since I got the idea of doing a race, I wanted to make sure that I chose a race which was meaningful for me. I found a race in the area which was a fundraiser for colon cancer, which seemed appropriate (since my mom passed away from colon cancer almost three years ago). J and Sam came to see me run. Sam wanted to wear a little heart-shaped clip with a flashing light, so that I would be able to spot him as I ran past. It was cute.

The course was lined with a couple of cheesy things related to colons, including a colon-themed obstacle course which you could do. Or, instead, you could opt to take a "colon bypass" route. (I did the obstacle course, which involved climbing over bales of hay and jumping through tires.) And at the end of the race, there was a huge inflatable colon that runners were supposed to go underneath (see photo above). I never imagined I would see (or run underneath) a "triumphal arch" shaped like a colon!

Although I don't think my mom would have participated in this kind of a race herself (she wasn't a runner, nor was she always a fan of standardized medicine), I still feel like it was a fitting tribute. As I was running, I reflected on how the race was a good way for me to honor my mom, while also giving me the chance to define myself as an individual. I hope that I can continue this new habit of running to stay fit and healthy.

A Letter to the Autobots

 
Sam just asked me, "Mom, do you think the Transformers are real?" Before I could really reply, he said, "I'm going to write them a letter to ask them if they are real."

I said, "Where are you going to send it?"

"To Autobot Headquarters," Sam answered.

He then turned around and "wrote" a letter on an imaginary piece of paper, while quietly muttering to himself:

Dear Transformers,

Are you really real? I really hope so. 

From, 
Sam

We have "mailed" off the letter (in our imaginary mailbox) and are waiting for a reply.

P.S. Sam chose the picture for this post. He wanted a picture of a figurine that looked similar to his own Optimus Prime toy.