Party at Calliope’s!

So we went to this party at Ax’s friend Calliope’s house and he and a bunch of kids basically ran around the yard, which is actually a mountain, for about four hours straight. When we got home I said, “So what were you guys playing that whole time?”

Ax: “We weren’t playing.”

Me: “Oh?”

Ax: “Jimmy and Donnie said they had a bomb and I was trying to keep them from exploding it.”

Me: “What?”

Ax: “Jimmy and Donnie and Matthew said they had a bomb and they were going to throw it off the side of the mountain and explode it so I was trying to get them to not do that.”

Jimmy and Donnie and Matthew are seven.  They are extremely sweet, slightly rambunctious boys whose ability to tie their own shoes, much less acquire a bomb, is unlikely at best.

“Honey, did you really think they had a bomb?”

“Well, they said they did so, yeah.”

“Well, why didn’t you come tell me?”

“I was handling it.”

“Handling it?”  Keeping my voice in even, respectful register.

“Yeah, trying to convince them not to throw it over the cliff and explode it.”

“I see.  So you spent that entire party worrying your friends were going to set off a bomb and handling it by yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think next time you’re in that kind of a situation you could come tell me or tell an adult?”

“I did tell an adult.  I told Calliope’s dad.”

 “Oh, what did he say?”

“He said if anyone throws anything over the cliff they have to go get it.”  

“I see.”

“I already mostly convinced them not to do it.”

“OK, well, next time there’s a danger like that I’d really like it if you’d let me know — will you?”

“Yes.”

But I already knew the chances of him telling me versus “handling it” on his own were so very low.  All I can do is take him seriously when he does let me into his world, I guess, and try to be there for him when he does.  I’m gonna keep going.