Many a Mayfair crown ago, when I was desperate for my annual Mayfair picture and Cole was going through the nine year change – you know, when a kid goes from adorable and agreeable to thinking any idea you might suggest or any request you might make is stupid and idiotic –Joe said, “Cole, just put on the stupid flower crown, let her take your picture, and then ask for ice cream.”
I believe that this piece of sage advice from father to son is what led to mine and Cole’s unspoken Odd Blog agreement. Following this picture of my adorable flower-crowned teen, we had lunch at Buffalo Wild Wings; thirty televisions displaying various sporting events surrounded us as we dined on onion rings, barbecued chicken wings, and a large quesadilla. Not to worry though, we were also given complimentary celery sticks, so our meal included veggies. While eating my lunch, a Micro Touch infomercial aired on the television directly in front of me and demonstrated a man shaving his ear, nose, and nipple hair.
What I am trying to tell you is: I earned this flower crown picture.
Cole was born with the natural ability to juggle. He started juggling when he was about five; he picked up three oranges and said, “Look mom, I can juggle.”
It’s not easy living with a naturally born juggler, and there have been a few sacrifices along the way: one Waterford goblet (don’t ask), a fork wound (don’t ask), broken eggs and any number of bruised vegetables, fruits, and frozen chicken pieces (don’t ask). For a while, it seemed that every conversations with Cole included, “Wow honey, that is amazing,” “honey, you’re not planning to try and juggle those three lit candles are you?” and “sweetie, please put down the little dogs.”
However, it’s moments like the following that makes me feel every sacrifice was well worth it. Cole hates to perform; he loathes it. But my boy does love to juggle, and occasionally he agrees to take the center ring.