The Line

There is this imaginary line that crosses social behaviors in our lives. It's the boundary that separates appropriate and inappropriate. It's the difference between information and "too-much-information." As we walk through life we learn to balance our lives to be somewhere near the line...but not overstepping.

Kids grow up and they slowly learn where that line is drawn. Although as I watch Chipmunk, I see him jumping way across the line a bit too often.

A few months ago we went to story time at the library. He sat on the carpet and waited. Then another little boy pulled his mother over and sat right in front of Chipmunk. My little Chipmunk could have just scooted a bit, but instead said, "Excuse me, could you move please? You're too big and I can't see." The lady kindly apologized and moved over.

He has an odd fascination for zombies. I had to beg him to not talk about zombies during Sunday School. And poop. He has an odd fascination for poop. I had to beg him not to talk about poop in Sunday School...or dinner...or with his great grandma.

A truck blocked our driveway. We parked across the street and walked home, all the while Chipmunk was voicing his opinion...loudly. "It is not nice to park in front of someone else's driveway. We can't even get into the garage! They should move somewhere else!" And yes, everyone heard...

He has blunt opinions about people around him. "Mommy, you should wear makeup so you won't look so ugly."

Of course, his bluntness also means, that when he says he likes something, he means it. His uncle made a strawberry-rhubarb pie one day and Chipmunk took a bite and said, "Wow, how did you make it taste so yummy!"

So as a parent, I've been trying to figure out whether or not I should teach him to filter his words...and then I wonder, even if I teach him to filter, will he? Is he just naturally a blunt and honest person? And then I reflect, do I filter my own words too much? Am I too concerned with stepping on others' toes?

See. The constant battle with the line. To filter or not to filter...that is the question...

Fortune Cookie Revelations

Bear carefully cracked her cookie in half, pulled out the little slip of paper and read her fortune out loud, "People enjoy having you around."

Matt and I both nodded our heads and agreed to that sentiment.

Chipmunk smashed his cookie in crumbles, swept the crumbs on the floor (I cringed) then read his fortune out loud to us. "There will always be delightful mysteries in your life."

I thought, What a nice and fitting fortune for our little troublemaker.

Then suddenly it dawned on me...Chipmunk just read his fortune out loud...Chipmunk, our not-quite-kindergartner, just read his fortune out loud to us..."delightful mysteries" and all.

And here I thought reading "Go, Dog, Go!" was more at his level. Now I see, he was just humoring me, when he read that book, as I've been grossly underestimating him.

Then again, perhaps he purposely didn't let on how well he could read...

...and that might be the even scarier revelation.

In Search of A Lemur

Oh Lemur, Lemur, where are you?
We looked and could not find you.
You were hiding cozy like in your nest
When we visited the zoo three weeks past.

The zebra was there with it's grand ol'stripes
Just a short way away from the hyena and it's shrill yipes.
A wily and perhaps hungry goat stared us down,
and tortoises lazed with their noses to the ground.



But alas, we didn't come for the emu,
Nor were we impressed with the sleepy kangaroo.
"Can we see the lemurs today?" asked my eager son.
I replied, "of course," only to later be undone.



Was the weather unkind? No, the sun was out.
Perhaps we came at the wrong time? Not the time for lemurs to scamper about.
So sadly we walked by the empty exhibit,
No signs of life, no peeks about, we just had to exit.

So attention all you lemurs at our local zoo,
I'd be more active the next time we come to see you.
Just a little bit of action would surely do,
So my disappointed son could catch a glimpse of you.

Signed,
Mother of a Son who likes to pretend he's a zombie lemur

Unnerving

Every now and then as I'm standing in the backyard, I take the opportunity to close my eyes and just listen to my surroundings. There's an occasional turkey call, or the wind rustling through the trees, but for the most part it is silent. As I'm standing there grasping for anything to listen to, I often reminisce about floating in the pool of my childhood home, with my ears submerged listening to the quiet ripples of the water.

I do this mostly because I find the quiet unnerving. I can't stand it. It's so unsettling that I purposely sit there in the quiet outside, raising my anxiety, because it intrigues me how much I dislike it.

When I close my eyes, I expect to hear cars rushing by at all hours of the day and night, people talking loudly while traveling from location to location, the buzz of the street lights and wires crisscrossing the sky, and the sounds of the television blaring from neighboring apartments or feet walking heavily across the floors above our heads.

But no...all I hear is just silence, and it imbues a feeling of isolation and loneliness...of disquiet within my own soul...and that disquiet unnerves me more than anything else.

Dramatic

In the car a couple of weeks ago my son accidentally pinched his finger in his lunchbox and started fake-howling in pain. After he calmed down, I asked him a question:

Me: Do you know what the word "dramatic" means?

Chipmunk: No. What does it mean?

Me: "Dramatic" is what you call it when you act like something is more than it really is, like when you cry out in so much pain over a tiny little pinch. It's when you act more than is necessary.

At this point, I was patting myself on the back for deftly getting my point across to Chipmunk about perhaps toning down the dramatics. Cut back to the conversation in the car...

Me: So let's try again...you just pinched your finger in your lunchbox, what do you say?

Chipmunk: (pausing for a thoughtful minute before answering)...AAaaaaah!!! My finger!!! It's going to fall OFF!!!! AAAaaaaaah!!! IT FLEW OUT THE WINDOW!!!! I'll NEVER see my FINGER AGAIN!!!!

He then proceeded to cry real tears over how he would never see his finger again all because of his lunchbox.

I, on the other hand, sighed and decided that veiled admonishments just don't seem to have a place in parenting...

Teacher Talks

It always worries me when a teacher needs to pull me aside and discuss something that happened during the day. Of course, I've been finding that the types of things I'm told are really different from one child to another...I won't name names, but you can probably guess which child is which...

Child A

"...had a little argument with a friend which resulted in some tears...not sure what happened, but just wanted to let you know so you can discuss it with your child."

"...got a little frustrated and teared up during the art project."

"... maybe might have been a bit tired, but still did...best to participate."

Child B

"...was standing on a ball and fell face forward into the ground...and that's why we don't stand on balls."

"...was a bit upset about the art project not turning out right and stood up and threw away the artwork. I pulled it out of the trash in case you wanted to keep it and perhaps encourage your child."

"...has been spitting here and there onto the carpet, outside on the cement, and I don't know if spitting is allowed in your home, but...shouldn't be doing that here."

Now, I have to ask...why is it that for all the teacher talks for Child B, it makes me feel like a terrible parent?