ImPerceptibility

Archive for the ‘Youngest’ Category

Describe the route Taylor would take if she walked to school.

It was one of those basic question you find in a elementary school Geography book. I glanced at it and thought, “Walk east on elm. Turn right on Main and keep going until you see the school” That was the answer. Or was it?

It seems that my youngest had other ideas. First she got one of her Polly dolls and put her beside the house marked Taylor’s home. Then the doll kissed her parents goodbye and started off to school. She skipped through the back yard stopping to sing some weird technoish-rap song to entice a kitten down from the tree. It worked. Then she zig-zagged through the park. She dropped her books at the corner of Elk Street but an off-duty police officer helped her pick them up. She had to wait quite a while for the traffic on Main street to slow down enough for her to cross. I’m proud to announce she did remember to look both ways. She stopped by the library to get a book to study. Dad called her and asked her to pick up some bolts at the hardware store. Then finally, she got to school.

I sat and listened to the whole story. I do appreciate her imagination but sometimes I just want to get things done. Hoping to get her to focus I asked her what the most direct route to school would be. She looked at me confused for a second.

“You mean she’s running late!” she shouts.

“Yes” I said and giggled.

“You should have told me that before she left home. Let’s start over!”

“Okay! Lets start over. Get the girl to school, she’s late!”

She starts making engine sounds. Then a helicopter comes and drops a ladder. The doll climbs up to the cockpit and they race straight to the school. She parachuted safe and sound onto the school grounds. There were even a few minutes left over to play on the playground before the bell rang.

I just had to smile. It’s good to be reminded why I don’t send her to school. With prices these days, gas for the helicopter would cost us a small fortune!

One of my pet peeves is when people dumb down what they are talking about when they talk to little children. This irritates me the most when they talk about science topics. Sure you can simplify the explanation but why not use proper scientific terms? Why teach them one name and re-teach them the correct name a few years later. Honestly, when your four-year-old falls down and asks Grandma if she thinks her patella is cracked, you’ll appreciate the effort.

When my youngest was little she asked me about the parts of a flower I told her the proper names. Stigma, pistol, stamen, anther, sepal, ovary. Why not? She was curious and she’d learn it one day. No day like the present. So, when she was reading the children’s menu out loud at a local restaurant I got a little irritated when it called the flower parts “male parts” and “female parts” Why didn’t they just name the parts?

“Male and female part?” I questioned her. “What are they called for real?”

She looked at me and told me the the female part was the stigma. I smiled. What are male parts called I asked with a smirk on my face. No one was gonna dumb down my kid.

She thought about it for a minute then a flash of memory came across her face. I waited anxiously for the response.

“Male parts are called the penis!” she said loudly, excited that she remembered.

A few heads turned and I turned red.

They are, Mom! Male parts are called the penis!

Yeah, I taught her that too. What was I thinking?

“Hey! Who wants ice cream for dessert!” I shouted.

We’re not a religious family and we don’t thank God for our meals. We’re thankful for what we have but we tend to give thanks to a more tangible source. However, most of my family is religious and they pray before meals. When the kids were small we never worried about it. I would either inconspicuously, or if I was feeling hostile noticeably, miss the blessing. Other times I would give the kids a roll to chew on until they were done praising the lord for every little thing and hope they didn’t get brainwashed before it was over. When the kids were little I had a much stronger need to distance myself, and them, from religion. I grew up with that stuff and I didn’t want them drawn into it.

I realized my approach was wrong one day when when my youngest was about three. We were standing around while my brother said grace and when it was finished, just as everyone was about to say amen, she sat up real straight and shouted “I’m mad!” If you say that with a slight southern accent you’ll get why she said that. She thought that was what everyone was saying. It was funny and we all laughed but I knew ignoring religion wasn’t going to be the best approach.

I wasn’t an educational anarchist yet, but I was well on my way. We started with Greek Mythology, threw in some Native American Myths, rounded it out with Celtic and Norse Gods. I think we threw in a bit of Egyptian beliefs. By the time we got to Christian fables a few years later, they had no problem understanding exactly what I wanted them to understand. I felt a lot better about my choices as well.

One of Oldest’s friends was over last week and she told her that her mom said not to talk about religion with her friends because everyone doesn’t believe in the same thing. I’ve told my kids almost the same thing. I think that sucks. I tell my kids that everyone has right to believe in whatever they feel is best for them, unfortunately so many people around here don’t feel the same way. My resentfulness and anger is returning.

My youngest told me that she just pretends she believes what her friends believe because she doesn’t want to fight with them. My oldest gets in arguments because people get frustrated when she matter-of-factly states that she doesn’t believe that. I’m just sitting here alternating between “Fuck ‘em all”, “Why, oh, why can’t we just get along”, and “Let it be. They’re smart kids and they’ll work it out”.

I’m not sure what to do, if anything. In the mean time, I have some books about evolution and world religions on hold at the library. I’ll pick them up Friday.

Mommy that hobo is pathetic.

That’s what my daughter told me a few nights ago. I was expecting her to be sad. Her tender and loving heart hurt by the thought of someone with so little that they had to stand in front of the mall and beg passing cars for change.

You see, she’s the kid that picks worms up out of the road and puts them back in the garden after it rains because she doesn’t want them to die in the sun. She checks the SPCA page every few months to make sure the pets have been adopted. I buy icee pops in bulk because she makes sure everyone in the neighborhood has an icee pop on hot days. She doesn’t want anyone to feel left out. She’s my baby and I love her ability to look at a situation and decide what needs to be done to make it better.

“Absolutely pathetic!” she continued with a hint of contempt in her voice. Myhusband and I looked at each other questioningly as she continued.

Does he really think I’m going to fall for that?

First: He has a printed sign. It was printed on a computer and it’s in a plastic report cover. Hobos have to scrounge through the restaurant trash and find a crayon then write a handwritten sign on a piece of cardboard.

Second: He has a brand new backpack. It’s nicer than mine.

Third : You never see hobos walking on this road he must drive from somewhere and park in the parking lot. How did he buy a car if he’s a hobo?

Fourth : He has new shoes.

Fifth: He’s not hungry because he’s fat!

I was a little stunned and instead of looking in the other direction I looked at the man she was so harshly judging. I must say, I think she’s right.

I’ve wondered about the men that stand at the light in front of the mall. They are always there. I’ve wondered if they have a schedule to determine who works when.

We put money in the tip jars even if we only got a lemonade. We drop bills in the hat of street musicians. We give food and money to local food banks. I once threw a $20 bill behind an old man that couldn’t pay for his groceries at the checkout and insisted that I had seen it fall out of his pocket. But I’ve never given a dime to the hobos in front of the mall. I doubt I will.

Today my daughter told me she had seen the hobo from the mall texting someone on his cell phone. He had a Starbucks cup sitting beside him. I had to giggle. She shook her head.

Pathetic! I said and she giggled back.

Come on guys. If you want our money you need to do better than that! Get an old hat. Maybe a harmonica or somethin’. Buy your coffee from 7-11. Stop carrying around $100 backpacks. You have a reputation to uphold and you are making my child jaded. I expect better!

I turned the page to the next blank page in my pad of paper and found this. 

I was already having a good day and this made it just a little better.  I have no idea when this was drawn but it was definitely done by my youngest.  Aren’t surprises great.

It's an orange that looks like a pear.

Today my youngest made me stop in the middle of the grocery store and take a picture of this.  It’s an orange, but it’s shaped like a pear.  This is apparently really funny if you are nine.  Just thought you should know.

Youngest and I had a nice quiet day today. She likes to walk her sister to the bus each morning. I think it’s her way of feeling she has some control over being separated from her sister. She puts her on the bus and waves goodbye then walks the few hundred feet back home, alone, pretending to be a big kid. I love watching her from the front window.

Sometimes she walks quickly and at attention. Her head up and eyes alert, scanning the bushes and trees, stopping to check out whatever has caught her attention. Other times she meanders in a serpentine path with her head tilted to the side lost in her own thoughts. Today she had an umbrella resting on her shoulder. It was tilted at an angle that made its rain blocking abilities questionable. But it wasn’t really raining, more of a light mist, so it didn’t matter. She was walking slowly and eyeing the puddles.

The first puddle was tempting but she managed to miss it. The second puddle she skimmed across the top with the tip of her shoes then hurried on. She walked through the next puddle but I could see her sites were set on the mother of all puddles. The ankle deep splasher just to the right of our driveway. That’s been a favorite for years.

She picked her path carefully. She had to end up in front of the puddle so she could splash without making it look like she meant to splash. A quick side-trip to check out the neighbors’ flowers was all it took. The puddle was in her line of sight and she was going for it.

Then she stopped, took off her shoes and went for it.

When she got to the door she left her shoes and wiped her feet.

Then she told me about a bug she’d seen and we looked it up in the field guide. She found it all on her own.

Then she practiced her spelling words. Only missed one.

She fixed her own breakfast and watched Spongbob.

We did some writing (simple sentences) and math (two-digit addition). Then she read a new book.

She went out to play with the dogs and now I’m sitting here wondering if she was pretending to be a big kid or if she really is a big kid. Does it really matter? I pretend to be a grownup all the time. Right now I’m sitting here typing this up but my bare feet are working their way to the backyard. There is a puddle back there and it’s calling my name.

Me: Are you going to drink your milk out of an elephants snotty nose?

Youngest: Hey, why not? Yesterday I drank out of a monkeys tail.

Me: Oh.