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LITTLE BIG MAN

 

'Mommy, Mommy,' his tiny voice wakes me from my needed quick nap. The beige afghan I had finished just last week falls off my shoulders onto the carpet.  My foot catches in the fringe and I fall on it. 'Jason, don't cry. Mommy's coming.'

 

His bedroom door is open. He's sitting straight up in bed, sobbing his heart out. 'Buddy scratched my arm and kicked Poopsy.' When I tell him he must have had a bad dream, he shows me a long scratch with tiny drops of dried blood on his arm. 'See?' he asks. Indeed, I do see it and explain as best I can that he must have done it to himself when he turned over. 'Jason, Poopsy is in the kitchen so Buddy couldn't have kicked him. He was in the kitchen pooping. I guess he needs more training. Let's go see him. Hop on, I'll take you down piggy back.' That satisfies Jason but cricks my back.

 

'Want to watch cartoons with me for a little while,' I ask. That fast he forgets Buddy and his scratch. 'Is Shreck on now?' I fix him a PBJ on fresh black bread, put it on a metal tray with ½ glass fortified milk, and we sit ourselves down on the living room floor. We do not find Shreck. PBS has a reprisal of the original Mickey Mouse cartoons. He doesn't like them in black and white and switches to Dora the Explorer. He already knows more Spanish words than I do.

 

Poopsy  barks, yelps, demands my attention. I put his collar around his neck, attach the leash and open the door. He pulls me to the closest tree, a tall, still sturdy maple.  As Poopsy raises his leg, I turn away. Too embarrassed to stand there holding onto to him. Poopsy is finished. I return to my son.

 

Jason is holding the remote control and is clicking away. When he likes something, he stops, stares.This time I stare with him. Dr. Oz is on, talking, explaining in color and action the parts of our sex organs. He uses words I don't even know, shows parts of us that shock me. Jason loves the hurrying red corpuscles, wiggly sperm, the pulsating heart, while I am almost at the point of vomiting. 'Let's change channels, Jason. Mommy doesn't like this cartoon.'  He refuses to give me the clicker so I turn off the t.v. manually. His ½ glass of milk he takes into the kitchen, pores the milk down the sink and returns to the sofa. I silently watch him like a mother hawk, catch him putting the remote deep between two pillow cushions.

 

He looks at me sideways, takes it out and starts clicking again until, merely by chance, he finds Dr. Oz again. Moving closer to the screen, he yelps out loud. 'One.' The amazing doctor is playing a game with two of the audience. Each gets a chance to guess what is the best thing to do if someone is having a fit. The contestants agree with each other and write 'two' on their drawing pads. Jason gets it right and claps for himself.

 

After the commercial, it is diet talk. Jason points out the very, very fat man and calls him ugly. Dr. Oz can make him skinny he said. Tell Daddy he should try to meet Dr. Oz. He's almost as fat as the man on  t.v., isn't he? Holding back my laughter is impossible. It's catching and Jason laughs with me. Our son, somehow, gets Adam to try to change his ways, use vinegar and wine salad dressing, instead of Russian. He barely tastes his ½ of a butterless baked potato and foregoes desserts except for fresh fruit. Beer totally disappears from our refrigerator.

 

Jason sometimes stares at his father, or peeks in his suit coats looking for candy. 'Why are you still fat, Daddy?' he asks and is told his Daddy has already lost twenty pounds. 'But Daddy, you still look fat. Why don't you send Dr. Oz a Christmas card and ask him to help you? I know he can do it. He's very smart.'

 

In Walmart Adam finds a funny picture of a fat man with a skinny wife and asks me to send it to Dr. Oz for him. I think that is a good idea, better than writing to Santa Claus.

 

If you aren't busy, Wednesday Dec. 23, tune in at 10 A.M. WLTV. Adam and Jason have been invited to be on Dr. Oz's show. You will see Adam fat and slimmed down. Jason is getting all the credit.

 

I will be in the front row left side.