not helping

After a long day of teaching, running errands, and fighting traffic I am glad to be home this evening. Sam warmly greets me with a verbal waterfall filled with tales of Minecraft, playing outside for hours and hours and hours, what he had for lunch, and how much he missed me.

“. . . and me and Lydia were playing outside, and we played with Rachel! And guess what, Mom! Rachel is going to a space camp! She gets to go into SPACE!!!” Sam is very excited about all this, and I can tell he’s setting me up to ask if he can go into space, too.

“Well Baby, she’s not actually going to go into space,” I try to explain. “You pretend to go.”

“Nope! She said! She told me! She said she’s going to go to SPACE!” he insists.

“I promise you, Baby, you don’t really go into space. Daddy went to Space Camp when he was a kid; ask him.” I holler at Steven for assistance, “Steven, come tell your son about Space Camp!”

“It’s so awesome!” Steven yells back, “You get to go into SPACE!!!”