I added two more bits to Mallory’s letter, things that occurred to me last night while getting Phoebe to sleep (which is where I come up with most of my posts, and hope they stay in my head for the next twelve or so hours). Then I started to wonder if I was being mean, making too much fun of her. I hope not. I do find her charming. Of course I find some of her antics annoying too but mostly the charming wins out. I hope that’s apparent.
But it reminded me of something that I realized last week that I need to stop doing. (Wow, what a sentence.) I was dropping Mallory off at school and on my way out, her teacher stopped and told me how cute Phoebe was looking that day. I said, “Yeah, she really needs a haircut!” I do that all the time, turning compliments around. Phoebe’s cute – but she needs a haircut. Mallory’s funny – but she’s a real handful. I shouldn’t do that. Maybe it’s just a misplaced sense of modesty, of not wanting to brag too much on my kids, but I need to stop it. I’m very proud of my kids, I do think they’re cute and wonderful, I should be able to accept the compliment and move on.
Chris told me last night about a student he met while on hall duty that day – a very quiet girl, studious and mature, with apparently no friends. I feel sad for her. I hope my girls don’t have a hard time in high school. Pre-marriage, I used to think that I shouldn’t have kids because growing up was so hard and I didn’t want to inflict that on a child of mine. Obviously my mind changed, but now in a way I’m even more worried about it. Because now “kids” are not just an abstract idea; they are two particular little girls whom I love more than anything else in the world. And I know precisely what hurts them, and precisely how they react when they’re upset, and it makes the possibility of them coming to harm even harder to bear.
Well, that’s depressing.
So, um, here’s two funny things. Phoebe calls Sesame Street “the Dreet!” as in “Want to dance to the Dreet!” while pointing to an Elmo CD. And today she found a bottle of hairgel in a bathroom door and said, “It’s Gweese!”
But it reminded me of something that I realized last week that I need to stop doing. (Wow, what a sentence.) I was dropping Mallory off at school and on my way out, her teacher stopped and told me how cute Phoebe was looking that day. I said, “Yeah, she really needs a haircut!” I do that all the time, turning compliments around. Phoebe’s cute – but she needs a haircut. Mallory’s funny – but she’s a real handful. I shouldn’t do that. Maybe it’s just a misplaced sense of modesty, of not wanting to brag too much on my kids, but I need to stop it. I’m very proud of my kids, I do think they’re cute and wonderful, I should be able to accept the compliment and move on.
Chris told me last night about a student he met while on hall duty that day – a very quiet girl, studious and mature, with apparently no friends. I feel sad for her. I hope my girls don’t have a hard time in high school. Pre-marriage, I used to think that I shouldn’t have kids because growing up was so hard and I didn’t want to inflict that on a child of mine. Obviously my mind changed, but now in a way I’m even more worried about it. Because now “kids” are not just an abstract idea; they are two particular little girls whom I love more than anything else in the world. And I know precisely what hurts them, and precisely how they react when they’re upset, and it makes the possibility of them coming to harm even harder to bear.
Well, that’s depressing.
So, um, here’s two funny things. Phoebe calls Sesame Street “the Dreet!” as in “Want to dance to the Dreet!” while pointing to an Elmo CD. And today she found a bottle of hairgel in a bathroom door and said, “It’s Gweese!”
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