Primary Colors

Last night we proudly attended Lil Man's Karate Grading Night. This is a night that occurs every few months or so to test the kids and find out if they have learned enough to allow them to move up in rank. This rank is presented in the form of a new colored belt. This prize is coveted by the kids. A sacred night of sorts. And so we sat on pins and needles hoping that Lil Man could prove himself in proper form and technique, sparring combat with another student, and the all important breaking of a board with his closed fist.

He did a phenomenal job! He looked poised and ready. This is a far cry from the days when I had to drag him out of the house kicking and screaming because he hated the uniform and refused to wear a cup. They are required to wear a cup at all times because of the sparring and well, I was not always as diligent as a mom could be and often let him sneak in sans the protective gear. However, that all came to a screeching halt when the teacher asked him point-blank if he had one on. He can not lie. I take full credit for this flaw. I can't lie to save my life. His truthful response landed him on the side-lines remanded to watch as the other kids kicked and punched the shit out of each other. And I ended up with a terse scolding by the male instructor that reminded me if I ever wanted to have grandchildren to carry on the family name - I would make him sport the nut bag protector. So, Lil Man and I ripped apart his old cup and I added some material to get a better fit. His ummm size, requires that my 7-year old wear a teenager cup and it was ill-fitting around the waist. The things we do for our kids, right?

So, where was I? Oh yes - the grading. He stood tall and at attention and when his name was called first, he called out a mighty "Yes Sir!" and walked in front of the Big Cheese. Bowing to show respect, he looked up hopefully. The Big Cheese proceeded to tell him he was very proud of him and for all of his hard work, he was being given the coveted Blue Belt. I believe he may have floated over to the wings where I snapped pictures of his ear-to-ear grin and then promptly got back in line, as is required.

After all the names were called, we headed out the door to get home for some celebratory ice-cream.

He asked anxiously, "Did I do good?"

"Good? You did great! We are SO proud of you! Are you happy?"

Yelling in the sports-announcer voice, "Yeah! Blue BABY!"

We all laughed.

He adds in the same voice, "And ya can't MAKE Blue!"

I got completed hysterical, as did Miss Thing. Tears streaming down my face, I look over at DH who is looking at us like we belonged in the looney bin. I realized he didn't get the joke.

Through my tears, I am gasping "You don't get it, huh? Ya can't MAKE blue - it's a joke! An ART JOKE - Blue is a primary color - you can't MAKE BLUE!!!!!"

DH looks from one of us to the next and shakes his head. "Bunch of artists!"

Yes, yes we are.