Monday, February 18, 2008
Fury and Pragmatism
Boo wasn't ready for bed. The hours we spent today romping outside in San Diego-like weather weren't enough. The bedtime show didn't suffice. The bath was too short. The art projects were unfinished. We were having a trainwreck of an ending to a blissful day. Standing before the sink, his pout erupted into angry tears.
"You are the worst mommy EVER, and I'm never speaking to you AGAIN!"
I brushed vigorously for quite a while. This gave him time to reconsider his position.
"But I AM going to speak to you at breakfast. Because you know that I'm ALWAYS HUNGRY."
"You are the worst mommy EVER, and I'm never speaking to you AGAIN!"
I brushed vigorously for quite a while. This gave him time to reconsider his position.
"But I AM going to speak to you at breakfast. Because you know that I'm ALWAYS HUNGRY."
Sunday, February 10, 2008
An early Valentine
I think rainbows are magical. Yeah, yeah, I know there's actual science behind them, but they're still a delightful surprise. Because even when you chance upon sun and rain at the same time, most often you don't get a rainbow--which, to my mind, makes the rainbows you do get...well, magical.
I've seen a few rainbows in my life that were amazing enough to remember years later. Like the one in Ireland, arching over a verdant hill laced with sheep. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if a leprechaun had sprung from behind a stone wall and skipped across the road. Or the morning at the ranch when we'd planned an early get-away and rose before dark to feed the horses. With a magnificent Texas thunderstorm approaching fast, we raced to beat the deluge. As we reached the final gate, heading west, the first fist-sized spatters hit the windshield. At that moment, the sun broke over the eastern horizon, casting one of God's most spectacular rainbows ever against the slate thunderhead.
We were in the country again today, where the boys were frolicking like lambs in the spring-like weather. Max was wielding a garden hose, alternately tormenting me and his brother. Then he bowed the spray in the opposite direction and yelped with joy.
"Look, mommy, a rainbow!"
"Max, it's so beautiful! I love rainbows!"
"I know, mommy. I made it for you. It's your Valentine."
This is one rainbow I think I'll remember forever.
I've seen a few rainbows in my life that were amazing enough to remember years later. Like the one in Ireland, arching over a verdant hill laced with sheep. I wouldn't have been at all surprised if a leprechaun had sprung from behind a stone wall and skipped across the road. Or the morning at the ranch when we'd planned an early get-away and rose before dark to feed the horses. With a magnificent Texas thunderstorm approaching fast, we raced to beat the deluge. As we reached the final gate, heading west, the first fist-sized spatters hit the windshield. At that moment, the sun broke over the eastern horizon, casting one of God's most spectacular rainbows ever against the slate thunderhead.
We were in the country again today, where the boys were frolicking like lambs in the spring-like weather. Max was wielding a garden hose, alternately tormenting me and his brother. Then he bowed the spray in the opposite direction and yelped with joy.
"Look, mommy, a rainbow!"
"Max, it's so beautiful! I love rainbows!"
"I know, mommy. I made it for you. It's your Valentine."
This is one rainbow I think I'll remember forever.
Friday, February 01, 2008
This just in...
The boys were tucked into bed this evening when I overheard Boo telling Max about his day:
"I tried to tell Lexie that she had a baby in her vagina, but she wouldn't let me."
There are many times when I make a conscious decision to let something slide as a parent, but this was not such a moment. I walked to Boo's bedside.
"Boo, would you tell me again what you said to Lexie today?"
Oh, how I hoped Boo had been trying to convince Lexie that there were lots of babies in North Carolina. First time ever I've actually wished for hearing loss.
"I told her she had a baby in her vagina, but she wouldn't let me."
"Well, honey, Lexie doesn't have a baby inside her. She's too young. Only grown-ups have babies."
"Oh, yes she does! But she didn't want to hear it."
"So what did she do?"
"She put her hand over my mouth."
"Hmmm. Well, it sounds to me like you got off easy this time."
Next time it may be a fist. And let's not even think about what Lexie's dad might do.
"I tried to tell Lexie that she had a baby in her vagina, but she wouldn't let me."
There are many times when I make a conscious decision to let something slide as a parent, but this was not such a moment. I walked to Boo's bedside.
"Boo, would you tell me again what you said to Lexie today?"
Oh, how I hoped Boo had been trying to convince Lexie that there were lots of babies in North Carolina. First time ever I've actually wished for hearing loss.
"I told her she had a baby in her vagina, but she wouldn't let me."
"Well, honey, Lexie doesn't have a baby inside her. She's too young. Only grown-ups have babies."
"Oh, yes she does! But she didn't want to hear it."
"So what did she do?"
"She put her hand over my mouth."
"Hmmm. Well, it sounds to me like you got off easy this time."
Next time it may be a fist. And let's not even think about what Lexie's dad might do.
