He’s wearing stripes just the way his dad wears them, and it’s about the only similarity between the two. Well, that and a strange, innate fascination with gadgets and electronics. 

“Can I play on the IPad?” he asks. 

“Later,” I say, hoping this pathetic response will buy me a significant length of time before the next time he comes to me. No such luck.

“Okay, after I get ready for the day?”

“No. I’m not sure when but later.” There are too many variables to what will happen between now and the next second that I cannot give him a definitive answer. Honestly, is it not so obvious that I am juggling, spinning a plate on my nose, hopping on one foot and standing on my head all in one breath? I guess that was just me that noticed.

Chore lists get assigned, crusty socks are tossed in hampers, errands are despised, and when I’m nearly in the garage door I hear him.

“Mom, can I play the Ipad?” His voice holds an every-increasing anticipation, almost cute enough for me to acquiesce. Almost.

“Let me have a second to get in the house, Bud.”

“Okay but can you just download Math Blaster? Oo, and Weird Animals? Aaand, there’s this cool skater game that my friend was playing on his phone at school.”

Phone? Seven year olds with data and apps and…hold on. I need to catch my breath.

“Not. Right. Now.”

His back arches as it always does when he’s damming tears or anger. “But you said.” His voice cracks and I know it’s both emotions this time.

“You’re doing your pretzel moves.” He laughs and his machine-gun sputter relaxes some of the tension between us. “No, I said later. Like, maybe.”

“But maybe is ‘yes’.”

“Maybe, is I might say ‘yes’ or I might say ‘no’. I think it’s rest time.” For me.

But then he’s popping his eyeglass through my bedroom door after 20 minutes. “Mom, look how wiggly my tooth is.”

“Yep, it’s ready. Go back to rest time.”

“You want to feel?”

“I’m good, thanks. Go.”

Ten more minutes. “Is rest time almost over?”

“Well it might be a lot longer if you keep coming in here.” Shoo.

“Okaaaay.”

As if I’m the one being unreasonable. Pff.

Another five.

“Mom, will you help me pull this?”

I don’t think I’m in any sort of position and/or mood for that kind of activity. “When your rest time is over.” Please, let me connect one thought to another. Or even simply come up with a single, complete thought. That would be thrilling.

By then our little girl is awake and I’m surrendering like the Broncos in the Super Bowl (still a fan).

“All right Buddy, rest time can be done.”

“Can I play the Ipad?”

Help.