The other day, my nine-year-old and I were taking a walk around the block while we waited for our order from The Kegs – a local food stand shaped like two giant barrels that serves sloppy joes with pickles and lime Cokes – when I asked him,

“What do you think I should write about on North Dakota Nice this week?”

“You can write about me,” he said.

“Like how you told Kelly that it keeps you up at night how good you are at cartoon impressions?”  I asked.

“Yes,” he said.  “You can also tell them about my new UV light.”

“Okay, I will,” I said.

THE UV LIGHT

I was making dinner and minding my own business in the kitchen when Nine appeared beside me with a small flashlight emanating a purple glow.

“Look at what Dad got me for helping him clean up the lawn,” he said, wiggling the light in my face.

“That was nice of Dad and please don’t do that,” I said, nudging his arm downwards.

“Why; what will happen?”  he asked, concerned.

“At the very least, it will bonk me in the nose,” I said.

“Oh,” he said, disappointed.  “Well, I need to see if you are dirty.  It’s a UV light, it finds things that are dirty.”

“I’m confident that I’m not,” I said, although I was not confident that was the case.

“Yep, it finds things that are dirty.  Like, LOOK,” he shined the light onto the food on the stove – which, coincidentally, was a food item Nine did not like to eat (anything that isn’t a chicken nugget or ice cream).  “It’s glowing!  I knew it was gross.”

“I think that’s the oil that’s glowing,” I said.  “See, it has splattered onto the counter and is glowing here, too.”

“YES, IT HAS,” Nine said, moving his light over.  “Man, this place is dirty.”

“It’s only dirty right here because I’m cooking at this very single moment,” I said.  “It will be clean once I’m done.”

“I bet this place is DISGUSTING,” he said, surveying the room with both supreme hope and disdain.

“I bet it is really clean,” I said, although I was not confident that was the case.

Nine moved about the kitchen, his face pressed to every surface hit by his light.  It (blessedly) took a while, but he finally found one one teeeeeny-tiny droplet of something on the dining table.

“HOLY COW IT’S SO GROSS IN HERE,” he said, pointing aggressively to the table.

“Oh, dear,” I said.  “Well, let’s clean it up.”  I sprayed and wiped down the table.  Nine checked again; the spot was gone.

“I don’t think I can ever eat at this table again,” he said.  “This place is DISGUSTING.  Good thing Dad got me this light; now I can show everyone who comes over how it’s DISGUSTING in here.”

“Why did Dad get you that light?”  I asked.

“Because I’m very concerned about germs,” he said.

“I’m surprised to hear that, especially considering the popcorn thing.”  I said.

“That doesn’t count,” he said.

THE POPCORN THING

A couple of years ago, Kyle invited every single friend we knew to play summertime sand volleyball.  The vast majority (wisely; Kyle is extremely competitive, so much so that I kicked him off my company’s team for fear that he would get me fired) said no, but 8 said yes.  The sand volleyball courts are directly adjacent to a large playground and concession stand and surrounded by a set of soccer fields, and any children who are forced to come to volleyball usually hang out at the playground.  My role has been to sit on a lawn chair on the grass and keep a general eye on the universe as well as any children who have been dragged to the field by our teammates.

I was sitting in my chair doing a really bang-up job watching the game and the kids when I realized that Nine was walking towards me carrying what looked like a giant Ziploc bag of popcorn.

“Oh, did you give him popcorn to eat at the playground?”  You may be wondering.

No, I sure did not.

Now, the playground is next to the volleyball courts but the volleyball courts are big, and so to get to him and knock the popcorn bag out of his hand would have meant that I would have had to run FULL SPEED and it still would have taken me several seconds to get there…and those lost seconds were pretty important when it came to protecting my child from whatever horrifying horror had been done to that popcorn because Nine was aggressively cramming giant fistfuls of popcorn into his face with every step. 

So, instead, I watched him walk over to me because my car was closer to me and if we needed to speed him off to the doctor or the police or whatever, I didn’t want to backtrack.

“Hi, Mom!”  He said, breezing up, still shoveling in popcorn as quickly as he could wrap his fist around it.  “Look at what the guy at the concession stand gave me for free.”

“GAH, we’ve talked so many times about strangers,” I said, taking the bag.  “We don’t talk to strangers, we don’t take anything from strangers, and we really don’t EAT ANYTHING from strangers.”

“But he wasn’t a stranger,” he insisted.  “He was the concessions guy!  He gave us all popcorn!  They were closing up the stand and he had a whole bunch of bags and we all got one.”

“That doesn’t make him not a stranger,” I said, “and it also doesn’t mean he couldn’t have poisoned the popcorn.”

“Was the guy wearing a black hoodie?”  One of our friends, a fireman, asked Nine.  “Those are the strangers you need to worry about.”

“Really?”  Nine asked, interested.

“No,” I said.  “You need to worry about ALL strangers.  And you should NEVER eat any food where you didn’t see where it came from.”

“It came from the concession stand,” Nine said.

Kyle walked over and stuck his hand in the bag of popcorn.  “What’s going on?”  He asked.

“Stop eating this popcorn,” I said.  “It’s from a stranger.”

“But not a stranger in a black hoodie,” Nine said.

“ALL STRANGERS,” I said.

“There’s a stranger in a black hoodie?”  Kyle asked.

I sighed, and handed Kyle the bag.  “He probably scooped it out with his hands,” I said. Kyle shrugged.  “A few germs never hurt anybody.”

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The photo above is of two parents who probably should do a little better. (We took this photo on the golf course the other day.)

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This week on North Dakota Today we talked about the “Holme Field,” my Nice “Person” of the Week, as well as a free farmstead barbecue picnic for all. Enjoy! (Valley News Live)

Mark your calendars for the Flower Fest! (North Dakota Nice)

Feel like crying today?  Here you go. (Facebook)

Grand Forksers, there’s a lemonade stand on Thursday. (Facebook)

Speaking of industrious kids, West Fargo’s Axl Roeder is giving golf lessons in order to earn a new pair of Air Jordans. (Fargo Forum)

Fifty Navy personnel took to the land to lend a hand around Fargo. (Fargo Forum)

If you’ve ever wondered, “Does a list exist of North Dakota’s former Olympians?”  Well, yes, it does. (KEYZ Radio)

And if you’ve ever wondered, “What’s Virgil Hill up to?”  Well, he’s thinking about North Dakota. (Minot Daily News)

Minot’s Faith Seykora was brought up on stage by her favorite musician, Lainey Wilson, at the 2024 North Dakota State Fair. (KFYR TV)

Kyle and his friends, Corey and Kelly, have a podcast called North Dakota After Dark where they talk about youth hockey in North Dakota.  The latest episode is up and is an interview with Kyle Kosior himself.  Check it out. Bonus: you can watch it on YouTube. (North Dakota After Dark)

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