A Spiderman costume-clad Masen jumps between the repairman and the TV and rolls to a safe corner of the living room.
He shoots “webs” out of his wrists and traps the invisible enemy.
Screams. Gun noises. Running. More jumping.
Finally the attack is over. Masen has ditched the costume and left it in a heap on the floor. He now walks quickly behind the poor, unsuspecting man who needs to get something out of his truck, and who is probably thinking I run some kind of home for crazy kids.
The guy makes it outside without my 4 year old.
This is a typical interaction between Masen and people who aren’t Masen.
Since he began to talk and walk and interact, I knew he was a different breed.
On one hand, Masen is the most loving, loyal and kind-hearted creature on the planet.
But on the other, he pushes the discipline limits, doesn’t have a volume other than shout and goes 90 miles an hour from sun up to sun down.
He is a handful!
I’ve already told about his love for lawnmowers, which was also his first word. He also loves football and has played numerous games against his arch nemesis Cassville. (Don’t know why he chooses to play them instead of Aurora or other Mt’neer rivals.) It’s always a tough game, he says, and either he barely eeks by with a win or he loses bitterly.
If his life was written out in a manuscript, his parts would be in bold and highlighted with lots of hand/arm motions and facial expressions.
One of his latest passions (obsessions) is war.
World War II to be exact.
I know, I know. We should never have let him start playing the games on the Playstation but now hardly anybody can beat him.
Instead of football games and lawnmowing, now Masen has long wars against the Germans and the Nazis (he thinks they’re two separate enemies) and the Japanese.
Masen is so passionate about this that I was nervous when he started at the German-heritage school the rest of his siblings also attended for preschool.
We have had many discussions about how the war was many years ago; that now we are friendly with Japan and Germany; and that he can’t just go around with his machine gun noises mowing them down in his invisible wars.
Plus, I told him that he has a lot of German ancestors. Hint: Oehlschlager.
We warned his super sweet teacher about his “tendencies” and she assured us that everything would be OK.
So he started school.
My anxiety started to return when Mrs. Hansen placed Masen in the car that first afternoon and leaned in the window to tell me about “an incident.”
Here we go, I told myself.
But thankfully, poor little Masen just had a bloody nose. He didn’t condemn anybody’s heritage or shoot any invisible enemies. Bullet dodged. (Pun intended.)
He seems to really be doing well there, too. No major problems. And so far he is leaving war at home.
The other day, Masen talked the entire way to school about what he wanted for Christmas. No exaggeration. The entire trip. His list included these items: machine gun; camouflage belt, pants and shirt; several different packs of grenades; an Army helmet and on and on.
There’s nothing to be concerned about, I told myself. It’s natural for a 4-year-old to want explosives for Christmas. Right?
Then I look at the sweet, enormously charming smile across his face (while he’s talking) and I realize that God created his passion.
His passion for mowing. His passion for football. His passion for protecting people.
I know one day all that passion is going to grow up into a force to reckoned with — one that is going to accomplish great things. With his German heritage, and all.
Categories: Life on the farm
My name is Ginia Oehlschlager and I'm a small-town gal from Missouri. Join me as I document my crazy life on the farm with my husband and four kids. I'm always looking for frugal, simple ways to live the life God set before me. Where faith, family and fun come together on the farm.