Another One For The Gremlin Files

While many things have occurred over the months that made me want to put pen to paper (fingers to keys?), this was the first that truly begged to be shared...

About a week ago, Andy followed Gremlin into the bathroom first thing in the morning and found a small puddle.  Upon discussion, Grem verified that he'd waited too long and hadn't had enough time to get everything working in the right order.  We remembered allowing him to drink about a half gallon of apple juice at bedtime and pretty much blamed ourselves.  A day or so later, I noticed there was still a faint pee smell in the bathroom so I pulled up the bath mat, changed out all the towels, wiped things down (see? motherhood = glamour!), the usual. 

Mothers of boys, you know this is certainly not the first time one of the men in my life had missed the bowl, however, this odor wouldn't go away.  I remembered an old boyfriend's mom telling me a funny, exasperated story about having to twice replace the baseboard heat next to the toilet in her downstairs bathroom after her four sons had rusted them through.

I started to worry that the liquid had seeped into the bead board on the wall behind the toilet or the wood of the vanity located next to it.  Wonderful.  I was going to have to replace my six year old bathroom because my six year old child urinated all over it.  Coincidence?  I think not.

As it turns out, I don't have to replace my bathroom.  I may replace my younger child.  Again, lucky Andy went into the bathroom after Gremlin and again discovered a small puddle.  Being (sick of hearing me complain) a model husband, he took it upon himself to clean up the puddle and cover half the bathroom in scrubbing bubbles.  As he moved the toilet brush and holder from the corner behind the toilet, he noted that there was a liquid level in the little cup/toilet brush holder thingy. 

Quite the opposite of missing, Gremlin has apparently been perfecting his aim by peeing into the toilet brush holder! Is there no freaking end to this boy's disgustingness??

After things were explained to me and Andy had gently chided Gremlin, I stepped in, a little less calm.  My son, the king of plausible deniability didn't say one word as I shrieked at him "Why would you do such a thing??  What were you thinking???"  On and on I went, ending with "and if you EVER pee anywhere but in a toilet again, I'll make sure you wear diapers until you're 40!"

The bathroom has been sterilized, the offending receptacle has been recycled (what would you have done with it??) and a new brush has been purchased.  As I pulled it from the Target bag, I showed it to Gremlin, with this parting shot: "Could you do me a favor and not pee in this one?".

Can't We Just Talk About Juan Williams Instead?

Scene: Driving to school this morning.  Radio inaudible.

Gremlin:  Mom, can you turn up the radio?

NPR's Madalit Del Barco: "...lights up her glass Hello Kitty pipe filled with primo California weed."

Note: Mom is navigating a rush hour traffic Rotary in a standard shift car.  Can't...safely...reach...radio...

Gremlin:  California Wii?

HRH:  No, she said Hello Kitty pipe.

Gremlin: No! She said California Wii!

HRH: No, she didn't!

MM changing radio station:  HRH, Gremlin is right; she said "Wii"

Oh, thank God.  Nirvana. Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Use Only As Required

As Andy and I stood in Room 319 stalking waiting to speak with HRH's teacher, I had an epiphany; we didn't need to.  Curriculum Night had gone swimmingly.  Mrs. C. seemed great! HRH was happy in his new class, happy with the work he was being given, happy with his position as A Second Grader.  He started his second week of school by exclaiming, "We get homework this week!  I can't wait to see what it is!".  HRH is happy.

When last we spoke, I was in the throes of The Question of whether or not to move HRH's class based on word on the Mommy Telegraph that his assigned teacher was "not a good teacher". What I learned was that she quite simply "wasn't there".  As in, too many subs, kids from her class entering the third grade a little behind, projects that other second grade classes completed never gotten to.  Due to the teacher's absence.

After much deliberation and discussion, I spoke with the principal. I gave him our Kindergarten sob story.  I told him of HRH's in-the-box mentality, his need for continuity, how he thrives on routine.  And the principal moved him to another class.

So when our turn came to speak with Mrs. C., we spent a moment discussing his penmanship (which could be better) and his need to "hold that thought" (rather than having to express every thought he is feeling in real time).  It was a two-minute conversation designed to let her know we were interested, involved, and aware.

But we didn't want to take time away from parents who might really need to talk.

Back to School Reminders - Part 1: Mornings

Dear Boys,

I know it's been a long summer (God knows it's been a long summer) and during that time, some rules have been allowed to slip.  In the interest of smoothly transitioning to the new fall schedule, I felt it would be in everyone's best interest to post a few reminders.

• Each day, you will be required to wake up.  I know you are fully capable of waking up in the predawn hours of summer so it only stands to reason you can also emerge from your bedrooms at a time suitable to complete all morning tasks and still arrive at school on time.

• Speaking of tasks, each morning you will be required to change out of your pajamas and place school-appropriate clothing on your body.  If mom is on top of her game, those clothes will be placed on top of your bureaus.  They include but may not be limited to:

• Pants/Shorts
• Shirt
• Clean underwear (yes, every day)
• Clean socks (see above)

The act of dressing should take place in your rooms. Upstairs. The living room is not an appropriate place to change or casually hang out naked.

• Your parents are legally obligated to provide a breakfast of somewhat healthy, energy-producing, brain-feeding foods.  You are legally obligated to accept one of the two to three breakfast items offered daily.  You may have noticed that your personal preferences lean toward a pretty starch-heavy list.  For the love of God, from time to time, please eat a banana/apple/yogurt!

• Brush your teeth.  You are both old enough to lose teeth.  The replacements are the last set God will ever give you.  Take care of them.  "I brushed them really well last night" is not an acceptable answer.  Also?  Have you smelled your own morning breath?  Seriously.  And Mom can tell the difference between ACT Fluoride Rinse and actual brushed-teeth smell.

• Your hair will be gelled into place for the foreseeable future.  Mom has an irrational fear of lice and her only louse remediation plan involves shaving everyone's head and burning the house down.  Don't make me do it.

• We leave for school at 8:15.  To clarify, at 8:15 am, you are required to get off the couch/floor/table, pick up your backpack from its designated spot in the dining room, walk out the front door, and get into the car.  It's really that simple.

Boys, thank you for your attention and anticipated cooperation.  Once we've had a chance to internalize this list, you can look forward to the next in the continuing series:

II. School Arrival Etiquette (subtitled: stop climbing on your classmates)

III. Post-School Activities (subtitled: it's your homework, I've already completed grammar school)

IV. Baths and Bed (how not to flood the bathroom)

I'm so very proud of both of you and looking forward to a nice, long, fun, school year!

Love you,

Mommy

Alone Again (Un)Naturally

Take Two 

Some long-time readers may remember last year's camp debacle in which Gremlin was moved from the camp group containing about 20 of his closest friends and classmates to a group of strangers, due to a clerical error.  This resulted in tears (for both Gremlin and Manic Mommy) and an abrupt end to a week of pre-paid day camp for Grem.

Being a masochist optimist and figuring the PTSD would surely have lessened by now, I signed both Gremlin and HRH up for a week of camp.  I planned ahead this time to ensure they would (a) be together and (b) be with friends. A few weeks ago, Andy and I began introducing the topic.  The boys would be together!  Annabelle, Jack, Sophia, and Abigail would be with them!  It would be different; it would be fun!  I can't understate Gremlin's enthusiasm strongly (weakly?) enough but he didn't say no.

So.  Today was the day!  We arrive at the Boys and Girls Club. Gremlin nearly needs to be physically removed from the vehicle, but is eventually coerced to exit of his own accord. With Gremlin clutching my hand but still moving under his own power, we arrive at the basketball court meeting area where the kids are divided into groups by age.  HRH joins his group with barely a goodbye. As promised, Grem is with Jack and Sophia! 

I introduce Gremlin and myself to the 12 year old counselor and explain Gremlin's reticence due to last year's fiasco.  She is mildly interested but is thrown off course by a very enthusiastic camper eager to tell her all about his trip to Water Country yesterday; "Everyone there was fat!" He's right of course, fat people are drawn water parks much as flies are to roadkill.  "And there were lots of Mexicans!" Awesome, let's check to make sure the altar boy from the Westboro Baptist Church isn't in our group.  He is not!  Amen!

As the milling becomes more focused, Gremlin realizes I'll be departing soon.  I seize upon a happy, playing Jack (a seasoned camper, our next door neighbor, and Gremlin's closest buddy) and ask him how much fun he has at camp.  Response?  "I hate camp!  Camp is stupid!  Annabelle's friend hit me!"  Totally awesome.  I block Gremlin's ears as Jack's mom quickly pulls him away. 

My knight in shining armor arrives in the form of a 13-ish year old junior counselor who came along asking to be Gremlin's buddy, asked to sit next to him in circle, and knows everything about Star Wars.

Gremlin's two armed death grip around my thigh loosens.  I repeat that I love him and I'll be back. That I wouldn't sign him up if I didn't think he'd have fun.  That all I want is for him to try.  And that if he does try...I'll buy him the Lego X-Wing Fighter...and...I...left...



** Full Disclosure; after I (physically) separated from Gremlin, I spoke to one adult counselor then found the director of the program to go into Gremlin's situation in exquisite detail, going so far as to describe his and his big brother's bathing suits for easy identification.  Then I hid behind a door and watched for a while. I gotta be me.

Puberty?

Scene:  MM cleaning up last of dinner dishes. 
HRH enters kitchen, left arm raised overhead as if waiting for the teacher to call on him for the answer.

HRH:  I think I have my first armpit hair.

MM:  Oh?  (peers closely).  I don't see one buddy.

HRH:  Oh, maybe I'm just sweaty then.

Always Say "Thank you".

Dear Mrs. M.,

As the school year draws to a close, I wanted to thank you so much for everything you’ve done this year. As we've discussed, the transition from preschool to kindergarten was a particularly rocky one for HRH (perhaps more so for his mommy). We had originally looked to St. Somewhere’s due to a misguided belief that the public schools in Manickville could not meet the needs of our son. We could not have been more wrong. In every area where St Somewhere’s failed, New School has flourished! I’m so happy to have found a community of caring, respectful, involved parents and a school ready and willing to accept my help, my opinions, and my neuroses.

Most especially, I am thankful for you. I so appreciate your hands-on, “treat them as individuals” approach to your class. From day one, you have greeted each child, looked into his eyes, and called him by name. It was obvious you wanted to get to know our children in order to teach to their needs and you have more than met that goal.

HRH enjoys school. He is genuinely happy to go every day, just as he was in preschool. One of my greatest fears was that his time at St Somewhere’s would destroy that enthusiasm. I can’t thank you enough for resurrecting it and for fostering it.

As we look to second grade – and kindergarten for Gremlin, I am optimistic. I am confident that, as with this year, my boys will be given teachers who will best meet their needs, who will show them that learning can be fun, and who will provide them with the gentle guidance you have this year.

With warmest regards,

Christine Manic

Harsh

Scene:  MM and The Daddy preparing for bed.

Daddy:  Babe, I gotta tell you, in the realm of "harsh" tonight, you cracked me up.

MM: Smiles beatifically. 


The boys have always had their own rooms but given a choice, HRH would rather share space with his brother.  From Mom and Dad's standpoint, HRH camping in Gremlin's room increases the chances of a full night's sleep for everyone.  IT's called a win-win - except the obvious fooling around, blanket disruption, tossing of stuffed animals, and moving of beds (really?) that accompanies shared sleeping space.  So in and out the parents go; cajoling, threatening, ultimately separating. The problem is that Grem actually prefers to sleep by himself so as the instigator, he's got nothing to lose and I've lost hand.

Last night, post-bath, as the boys were engaged in their pre-bedtime ritual of coercion and bribery attempts for co-sleeping, HRH bumped into his bedside lamp, sending it crashing to the floor and breaking the bulb.  I react like a medic on the battlefield.  Clearing the barefoot boys from the scene and going down on hands and knees with a dustpan and brush, then the Dustbuster. Cleaner than it was before 'the incident'.

I then tell the boys that because of the danger of glass, I think that HRH should definitely sleep in Gremlin's room tonight.  This was of course, not the concern. The shake-down had gone on for nearly half an hour and I was simply tired of hearing it.  We tuck in and do God Blesses. 

And I leave them with this warning;  "If there is any fooling around,  the person that started it will be sleeping in HRH's room.  With the glass."

Not a word.  Not a sound.  Straight to sleep.

Memorial Day Weekend Plans

So many captions, so little time:

A Boy and His Dirt.

Five-Year-Old Heaven.

With Apologies to My Neighbors.

King of the Mountain.

At Least He's Wearing His Old Sneakers.

Dirt Devil.

or

He's Already in the Tub.

Nearly Wordless Wednesday

"Mom, I was trying to find my bathing suit and I left my bottom drawer open."

Soap Operas and Bon Bons - That's Me...

7:00 pm Wednesday night - Email from neighbor (N1) asking if I can pick up her kindergartener (Lila) after school and drop her off at the sitter's as the sitter will be one child heavy for a safe car ride.  No problem except Thursday is yoga day.  If Lila would like to join us for yoga, I can drop her off at the sitter's after that.  Lila likes yoga, all is well.  Simple.

12:50 pm today -  Nurse's office calls stating HRH is complaining of groin pain.  He had complained of this a week ago and Andy explained he had pulled a muscle, relax and it'll pass.  Second occurrence, we worry about a hernia.  Change of plans: No yoga. Pediatrician.

12:55 - En route to pick up Gremlin at preschool. Plan to speak to other neighbor (N2), whose son (Jack) is in Gremlin's preschool class - and also has a kindergartner - to see if she can drop Lila at sitter's.  Jack is out sick today.  N2 not at preschool. 

1:05 pm - Call N2's cell to run plan by her. No answer/leave voicemail.  Call N2s home number.  No answer.  Contemplate calling own husband (Andy) to have him call N2's Husband's (NH2) cell to see if he knows his wife's where-abouts.  Get Andy's voicemail.  Don't leave message.

1:15 pm - Arrive at HRH's school.  HRH bops out of nurse's office a little too energetically for one in so much pain.  Get incredibly rudimentary explanation of hernia from very nice school nurse.  Leave school.  Gremlin has nervous breakdown in playground as we are *not* stopping to play.

1:20 pm - Call pediatrician from car to see if we should drive there immediately.  Nope but do have 3:45 appointment today.  I can pick up Lila at regular time but not sure if day care provider will be home an hour earlier than anticipated.

1:25 pm  - Gremlin jumps oddly on couch connecting his knee with his nose, resulting in nose bleed.

1:30 pm - Kids in front of Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakquel.  Back to work! N1 is a nurse practitioner who works in a maximum security prison and is not allowed a cell phone at work.  Call N1's husband (NH1), who is currently traveling for work in DC.  He has no idea of gyrations going on up here but I have his cell #!  Explain all and instruct him to call sitter to find out if she will be available to receive Lila an hour earlier than expected.  Await call back.

1:35 pm - NH1 reaches sitter.  All is well.  She will expect Lila at regular time.

1:45 pm - N2 returns my voice mail.  She is onboard to pick up Lila along with her own kindergartner and drop off at sitter.

1:50 pm - Text NH1 with school phone number so he can tell school to release Lila to N2.  Also must mention that Lila was originally supposed to attend after-school enrichment yoga with me.

2:01 - UPS arrives with new starter for Daddy's boat.  HRH carries 15 lb package from front door to kitchen table.


I'm sorry, Angela.  It seemed like such a simple thing...

Team Why Mommy's Virtual Science Fair

Three things kind of converged in the last few weeks in a way that confirm my belief that we're all in this together.  My polygamist, gay, boyfriend, Jason is taking part in the Susan G. Komen 3-Day for the Cure 60 Mile Walk.  He's doing it in memory of his mother and in honor of his brother, who was 11 when their mom died.

The second thing is that I was called back in after a yearly mammogram for a second look at what appears to be a calcification.  I have an appointment with a surgeon next week and look to be headed toward a biopsy.  I'm treating this the same way I've treated an abnormal pap result; I'm "concerned" lower case, not "CONCERNED" all caps.  My mom and my husband inform me they're doing the worrying for me.  I have very good people in my life.

The third is that I received an email from my dear friend, Jean, of Stimeyland.  I will always be grateful to blogging and to the universe for putting a person such as Jean in my path,  She is a good person.  She is smart, funny, caring, enthusiastic, energetic, self-effacing, and did I say wickedly funny?  She is the person you want in your corner.  She's got your back.

To wit: the email explained that a mutual blogging friend, Susan at Toddler Planet was going in for another round of surgery to address, heal, and kick cancer's ass.  Apparently, cancer didn't know who it was dealing with the first time.  Susan is yet another truly good person.  I had the pleasure of meeting her at BlogHer last year in Chicago.  Susan is an astrophysicist and a mommy.  And has cancer.

Jean came up with the brilliant idea of a Virtual Science Fair to show our support for Susan but not for her (rat bastard) cancer.   So here I am, doing what I can on all three fronts of my our battle:

1. I send money, support, and love to Jason.
2. I make appointments and follow-up, and stay positive about my own health
3. I submit my sons' and my science project.  (I hope we get an Honorable Mention)

Absorption Experiment:  

After cutting stems, place white carnations in a cup of water and add food coloring. What will happen?

Mom: What do you think will happen to the flowers?
HRH: The flower part will turn the color of the food coloring.
Gremlin: I don't know.

Mom: How do you think it happens?
HRH: The water will come into the bottom and be sucked up into the flower and by my calculations, you will be able to see that color.


Mom: How long do you think it will take?
HRH: Maybe about a half an hour to three quarters of an hour
Gremlin: Don't know!

Mom: Do you think it will make any difference if the stems are longer or shorter?
HRH: Maybe if the stems are longer, it will take longer to absorb.
Gremlin: You're a fast writer.

Mom: Do you think it will make any difference which colors we use?
HRH: Oh!  My food coloring dropped.
Gremlin: Mom, when can we start?
HRH: Mom, when can we start?

Natives getting restless. Time to move on to the doing:

Start time: 2:59 pm

Beware the dangers of food coloring.

4:17 pm - Change occurring in tips of petals!!

 

9:30 am (18 hrs, 31 minutes)

To Susan, I offer you this lovely bouquet of cheap-ass, $1.00 carnations now filled with all the colors of the rainbow.  I also send strength, healing, prayers, love, and good wishes. We've got your back.

Head over to Stimeyland to check out all the fabulous science-y expressions of love for Susan!

Wordless Wednesday

Rainy day activity number 756.

OMG - Ohm My God

Wine or chocolate, wine or chocolate?  Oh alright. If you insist. Both.

HRH's school has a very enthusiastic PTO that sponsors many activities.  One of the main reasons I'm home with the kids is to take an active role in their lives both in and out of school.  I try to volunteer as often as I can and generally really enjoy doing it.

When the PTO posted in the school newsletter that they were desperately in need of volunteers to assist with the after-school enrichment programs, I offered my services, provided they didn't mind an additional, slightly younger student in the mix.  They snapped me up.

Reasons Christine thought it would be a good idea for the boys and me to take yoga together:
A. HRH had taken yoga in preschool and really enjoyed it.
B. Both boys enjoy learning poses from me and have 'mastered' Wii Fit yoga.
C. Winters are long here in the Northeast, with Spring beginning around June 1st. We are heavy on inside time and light on much-needed physical activity.  Yoga = exercise.  Right?  right??

Reasons Christine is a dumb-ass, rookie volunteer who deserves the hazing she is current enduring:
A. The class takes place immediately after school is dismissed for the day.
B. This class is primarily attended by children then going on to the after school day care program.
C. This class takes place hours (and hours) after lunches have been eaten.
D. This class takes place during the time that both those children going home and those going to day care are being fed snacks.
E. Yoga was specifically mentioned as the class requiring assistance.
F. In case there was any doubt, K and 1st Graders are not the target audience for a class featuring long any periods of concentration, holding still, and being quiet.

Rather than the laid back, healthy hour I anticipated spending with my boys and a handful of others in a state of blissful Zen,  I spend an hour herding cats; directing kids in and out of the bathrooms, taking bloody noses to the nurses office, and telling kids to keep their hands to themselves.  In short, I could've stayed home.

So when you do the math, it may seem like A+B+C = Good, healthy, positive time together.  Not necessarily.  In this instance, A+B+C = Effed.

What to Really Expect - What's Your Point?

Ever hear of foreshadowing? Me too.


It's February vacation and we're headed to my sister's house to let them (destroy her house for a change) play with their cousins. After I finally get the boys dressed and ready, I head upstairs to retrieve my watch. It is from here that I hear the blood curdling screams of my first born.

Like all mammals, I know the differences in my sons' cries. This one was not irate (Gremlin took something belonging to me!) nor was it over-reactive (There is a spider in the basement!!), this scream said, This is my own blood!!!

We meet at the door to my bedroom where HRH is cradling his right hand in his left as blood drips from the puncture wound on the back of his wrist. Gremlin is following surily behind. I grab a towel and apply direct pressure while trying to simultaneously calm him and find out what the hell happened.

Turns out that in the 3.2 minutes I was upstairs, the boys got into a game of poking with sharpened pencils. After repeated "light" pokes to Gremlin's face, he'd had enough and reciprocated by stabbing HRH in the hand with a pencil. I wish there was an "incredulous" font. Are you kidding me?

I steer HRH into the bathroom so we can clean/inspect/band-aid. I instruct Gremlin to go downstairs to retrieve the pencil so I can see if the tip is broken off.

The tiny puncture is slightly black-ish but I can't tell if there's graphite in there or just he's just marked. Also the vein in his wrist is bulging but it doesn't look like it was pricked. Gremlin arrives with the pencil but as I turn to this forensic evidence, he proceeds to poke the bathroom doorjamb with it, rendering the point uncheckable.

When in doubt, call the pedi. I manage to calm HRH's screams and cover the wound with a Scooby Doo band-aid and make yet another call to our doctor. He agrees that maybe he should take a look and off we go, with a quick call to my sister, letting her know about the unplanned pit stop.

Diagnosis: It doesn't look like the pencil tip broke off in his arm and the positioning most likely rules out any bits from traveling to his brain. But essentially, HRH will have a life-long, tiny black dot tattoo.

The boys were also subjected to a lengthy dissertation on the dangers of graphite poisoning (yes, I made up that term), potential enucleation, and general acts of stupidity and violence.

Then we went and played at Auntie's house.

Only Four Days Old and Already 2010 is a Disappointment

Scene: In the car on the way home from first day back to school.

HRH: Jade and Sean got to stay up to see the ball drop.

Manic Mommy: Really? Do you know what that is? I can show it to you on the computer when we get home.

Home and settled, MM clicks over to YouTube searching "Ball Drop, Times Sq, New Year's Eve". Voila!

MM: Hey guys! Come watch the ball drop!

(watching Dick Clark, Ryan Seacrest, et al., hugging)

HRH: So? When does it drop?!

Gremlin: What does it break?!

MM: It doesn't really "drop," it just sort of slides down a pole and lights up.

Gremlin: It doesn't drop on anything?

MM: Um, no. That's just one of the ways we celebrate the new year here in America. You see, we --

Boys depart kitchen, eyes rolling.


Better luck next year, guys.

It's a Sing-Along!

We interrupt regularly scheduled blogging for a musical interlude:

Dear Craigslist:

For Sale: Brother-in-Law

1964 Heterosexual.
Never married. Low mileage. No baggage.
Original hair and teeth.
Handsome, smart, funny, athletic.
Owns own home and business.

Interests:
Sports,
Mooching meals,
Drinking beer,
Long walks on the beach
Name-calling
Introducing minors to scatological humor
Arriving 30 minutes prior to nephews' bedtime for
Wrestling Extravaganza!

Motivated seller.
All serious offers considered.
Pictures furnished upon request.


The fine print:
*BIL is being sold "as is" and all sales are final.
** Potential buyers must survive pass rigorous interrogation by mother, SILs, big sister.
*** Apply at your own risk.

Wordless Wednesday

I'm Gonna Need a Bigger Shelf.

Anatomy of a Guy Friendship

Last week, after school, HRH caught sight of some kids playing ball and decided to join them. I was pleased as HRH has recently given up most forms of outdoor play, preferring Legos, TV, Wii, Homework, pretty much anything to outdoor exercise. I was also pleased because he insinuated himself into a group in which he knew no one and just waited his turn until it became clear he was indeed included.

The game proceeded for the better part of an hour while I chatted pleasantly with some other mommies over by the play structure. Suddenly, a loud scream rent the air and we all turned to see the victim. It was HRH, running toward me, crying, clutching his crotch! Oh...crap.

As we sat, me cradling HRH, him cradling his package, we managed to piece together what had transpired:

Another boy had been 'fake punching' HRH to make him flinch, then calling him a scardy cat (aside: strange word to spell, funnier that kids still use it). HRH in turn pulled a fist up to the the bully's face and told him he'd "show him scared". I'm actually perfectly okay with HRH's actions and truthfully quite proud of him for standing up for himself in the face of an older (2nd grade) kid. Unfortunately, the kid wasn't as impressed and instead kicked HRH squarely between the legs!

We were able to identify which child and his appropriately horrified mother dragged him away for some serious talking-to. After everyone had calmed down, the mother brought her little hooligan son to HRH to offer an apology. The boy seemed genuinely contrite and HRH accepted graciously.

Since that day, he and HRH have been seeking each other out to play; ball, tag, whatever. His name is Gabe.

And I'm pretty sure he's going to be an usher at HRH's wedding.