Robot Tops That Battle

So very happy.
God bless Teenage Target Boy

In January, Dec went to his friend G's birthday party and came home talking about beyblades. "Do you know what beyblades are, mama, and can I have some for my birthday?!?!" No, I do not. And sure, I guess ... it's 5 months away. Whatever. Mike's curiosity got the better of him, so he looked them up and then told me they were "robot tops that battle." I understand each of those words individually ... but still had no idea what in the world beyblades were.

Dec seemed to mostly forget about them ... and I most definitely forgot about them ... until this week. Beyblade mania happened. On Wednesday, I think he said the word "beyblades" to me 97 times before I finally said "if we go to Target on Saturday and get some, will you promise not to say 'beyblades' again until then?" Fun fact: I upheld my end of the deal. He did not.

Then on Thursday at pick up, he and G were playing beyblades. I 100% blame G for my current beyblades seventh circle situation. His punishment was that he had to host a training course on beyblades. It was way more useful than my previous attempts with Mike, my 9-year-old boy network, and my 7-year-old boy network. The 6-year-old boy network was key! The best part was that several other parents and 6-year-old boys joined the training course. I am clearly not the only one baffled by these things.

This morning, Dec and I headed off to Target with the Christmas gift card from Brenda and Mike in his pocket [this RIGHT HERE is why I do not let the kids spend them right away]. We looked up the aisle on my phone and found the beyblade section. Then we both stood there rather cluelessly. One of us was more clueless than the other - but neither one of us was too prepared. I started pulling down different ones for D to choose from. And he started asking ridiculous questions like "does this one have a launcher?" and "can I get one with a ripcord launcher?" and I said very exasperated things like "I don't know what a launcher looks like, buddy" and "I still don't know what a launcher looks like."

And then, you guys, like a heaven-sent miracle, a teenage boy who works at Target came around the corner, showed us what a launcher looks like, and asked if we needed help. The question was just being polite. We were clearly out of our league. He sat in the aisle with D and help him select two beyblades with launchers and was just the absolute sweetest. I may have cried in Target without him. Or FaceTimed G's mom and asked for G as a consultant. We left with one hydrosphere and one sling shock. I have no idea what that means. But Dec and Teenage Target Boy seemed satisfied.

I thought maybe getting him the beyblades would mean we didn't have to talk about them anymore. That was categorically false. I also did not think about the fact that I would have to learn how to put them together because one of the whole points is for them to burst apart. Mike did NOT train me before he took Q to hockey - but thankfully I figured it out. I have beyblade battled multiple times today ("mama, you aren't very good with the launcher") and have reassembled them about three dozen times.

He is beyond joyful and I love that. But I miss discussions about superheroes. Or dinosaurs. Or hot wheels. Or lemur stink fights. Or even construction vehicles. On the upside, I think I finally know what a beyblade is.