Soul Highway

Webster's amended

We are trying to get Re'Sean into the habit of turning to the dictionary whenever he encounters new words, or words he couldn't quite spell right. The husband happens to have this propensity for using seemingly archaic words in our conversations that leaves Re'Sean scratching his head.

This past weekend, we had a friendly debate about how (I feel) men should continue to do spontaneous, romantic little things for their wives as if they're still dating. Kevin's other semi-endearing, albeit irritating trait is that he takes the anti-thesis of your argument and then adds that unmistakable male swagger just to get on your nerves.

So what does he have to say about continued courtship? "Baby, I have already wooed you. In fact, the wooing part was terminated the moment you slipped that ring in your finger," he replied with mock arrogance. Pinch. Push. Punch. Then Re'Sean asked, "What is 'wooed'?" "Look it up," ordered his dad.

Ten minutes later, Re'Sean comes back with the definition, which contained the words "affection" and "marriage." Judging by the blank look on his face, that didn't help. So I tried to break down the meaning to him in the simplest possible terms - to woo is to get a person's attention to like you.

"Oh, you mean to make the moves on someone?" he excitedly jumped in, as if the proverbial light bulb had just been turned on.

Yes, that too, Re'Sean.

She came, she saw and she was cold

A friend of mine, who's also my shopping buddy, is traveling back to the Philippines for a vacation in the next few weeks. "Are you going to be okay?" the husband teasingly asked. Umm, I think. I get homesick every now and then, but I get even more homesick when friends tell me they're going home. Okay, I get jealous.

Today marks the day I came to the U.S. two years ago. I remember stepping off the plane and shivering cold. I remember waiting nervously for my bags to show up at the luggage claim area, unaware that Kevin was watching me the whole time. I didn't see him until he actually stepped in front me, his face inches away from mine. Hey, my vision is failing. Some of you might say Kevin should have been foremost in my mind at that exact moment. Afterall, he was the reason I flew 10,000 miles across the Pacific, into another continent, right? Well, I was sure he was going to be there. What I couldn't trust was the efficiency of airlines to transport passengers and their luggages together from Point A to Point B. You can't blame a girl for worrying if she would have clothes to wear the following day.

My first meal after flying in was a takeout meal from McDonald's. I mean, how American can you get? So, happy second anniversary to me in the land of red, white and blue.

Son, today is the day you get hurt.

At what point in your son's life do you start to "let him go?" Well, the husband decided that yesterday was the day. Re'Sean has been riding his skateboard (a gift on his 10th birthday) for almost a year now and he claims to have improved his skills. On Sunday, he decided he was ready to play with the big boys. That means going to a public skateboarding park down Duke Street where they could work on "real" ramps. His friend's mother offered to chaperone the boys.

I felt we (husband and I) needed to be there. "For what?" Kevin replied. Umm... in case he gets hurt? "And then what?" Fathers have their way of things. After some strong admonitions on wearing a helmet at all times and behaving well, the husband sent Re'Sean out to the world of scraped knees and broken elbows. His (Re'Sean's) job was to come home in one piece.

And he did, about an hour and a half later, plus a busted lip. There were traces of blood all over his shirt and shorts. Turned out he rode down a ramp, fell and cut his lip with the side of the ramp. We made a quick inventory - no missing teeth and no extremeties suspiciously dangling out of place. "You'll be all right," the husband delivers a quick assessment. "You had that coming, didn't you?" he asks Re'Sean, who nodded in agreement.

Re'Sean claims he didn't cry, and we'll take his word for it. However, he wants to go back to that ramp another time to try again. Dad, of course, is proud in a way only fathers can understand: "That's my boy!"

1) Our little handyman working on his skateboard. 2) Returning home with
a busted lip Saturday after his big try on a real ramp.

He went out excited, and came home bloodied.