Shem....what can I say about Shem?

Shem....when you meet him, you will know what I'm talking about.  There is no one in this world like my Shem.  When I tell people he's obsessed with the military, they often look at their own childhood, think of themself, think of their brothers, maybe even think of their own sons and they invaritable say to me, "Soandso was just like that when he was Shem's age."  Well....let me set the record straight.  There may be similarities, but all who know Shem can attest, there is NO ONE like Shem.

This is the kid who refused to put on a swimsuit at the splashpark.  In fact, he would refuse to put on t-shirts and shorts ALL summer long.  We would have to refuse him access to the outside world until he could at least conform to short sleeves.  The little stink would come back with a terribly clevor retort, "But then my arms won't be protected and I'll get burned."  This, with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Part of me feels like I should have seen this coming.  He's been dressing up as some sort of warrior since he was just a year old.  I have a picture of him in nothing but a diaper, a pasta drainer on his head (every good soldier needs a helmit), and a makeshift sword in his hands.  I was the parent who would never buy a toy gun--I despise guns!  Oh, but what I didn't realize was that ANYTHING could be a gun.  Oh, yes, everything is a gun.  My spatula turned into a sword, my dishes into armor.  I didn't stand a chance.

Now, I'm adapting to the reality that is mine.  My son is obsessed.  He wants to be a soldier.  It might be a long road, but we'll get him there.  But first, I've gotta get him a mission.