This morning Kid E crawled into bed with me around 6 a.m.  This is much improved over his previous habit of crawling in at 1 a.m. or 3 a.m., so I am certainly not complaining.  He also gets a pass because he is a really good cuddler.  Plus, he says some really funny stuff during our pre-dawn chats.

One of the reasons for this, I believe, is that he wakes up with his brain already going 100 miles per hour.  He usually produces a veritable stream of mouth diarrhea during this waking period, with little filter and less sense.

This week at school is Red Ribbon Week.  Red Ribbon Week is part of a campaign promoted each year to educate children about the dangers of using illegal drugs.  The National Family Partnership, formerly the National Federation of Parents for Drug Free Youth, started the campaign in the 1980’s as a way to bring the War on Drugs directly to the schools, believing that children of parents who talk to them about drugs are less likely to use them.  The PSA’a “I Learned It By Watching You!” and “This is Your Brain on Drugs (sizzle)” are both right up the NFP’s alley.

On the elementary school level, this translates to an activity each day, to educate the kids and remind them to always say no to drugs.  They sign a pledge, wear crazy hats and pajamas, and go to school dressed as what they want to be when they grow up.

Now take just a second to follow me on this thought process.  Kid E just turned six.  He is in kindergarten.  Luckily, he doesn’t really know anything about drugs yet.  The only thing he knows is that we go to the “drug” store to get medicine for him when he has a sore throat or when mommy doesn’t want to make any more babies with daddy.

I guess that the teachers in charge of Red Ribbon Week have figured this out already and are trying to get one step ahead of the confusion, because Kid E was very busy explaining all of the drug things to me early this morning.

“It is okay to take medicine that the doctor tells you to take, ” he said.

“Mkay,” I mumbled with my head still under the pillow.

“Even though medicine is drugs,” he proudly announced.

“But you shouldn’t do the bad kind, ” he continued, “of drugs.  Bad, bad drugs.  Those drugs are bad news.  But medicine is okay.  Unless you are allergic.  But I’m not allergic to any kinds of medicine, am I mom?  Allergic to medicine – the good stuff – am I allergic mom?”

“Un-uh,” I mumbled.  Then I decided I should make it crystal clear, “No, you are not allergic to any medicines.”

“Good, mom.  That’s good.  I didn’t think so.  I didn’t think I was allergic to any medicines.  So I signed my name.”

“Um, what?” I asked, confused.  “You signed your name to what?”

“The board.  I wrote my name up on the board.”

“For why?”

“I signed my name for free drugs.  On the board.  Because I’m not allergic.  To free drugs.”  Even in the pitch-black room, I could sense that he was smiling proudly.

I stifled a giggle as I corrected him, “I think that you probably signed the board as a pledge to stay drug-free, not to get free drugs.  That’s kind of an important distinction, buddy.”

“Oh, right.  That’s what I meant.  Drug-free, not free drugs, mom.  Oh, and today is pajama day, mom!  Today I get to wear my pajamas to school!”

“Awesome.  I sure hope the pajamas help you learn the difference.  Now, let’s go have breakfast.  I want eggs.”

Wish me luck for tomorrow…