Sunday, September 26, 2004

Week Four, THEME

The apple of my eye. I can't say that he's my favorite; after all, they teach you in parenting school that you don't have "favorites", you simply love them each in their own way. So, why write about the boy and not the girl? She is my mini-me, my innermost conscience in a smaller replica. He's everything that I am not.

He is true to himself. He knows who he is and what he wants. If someone tries to convince him otherwise, he doesn't have a problem stamping his foot down and putting them in their place. Sometimes he might even use that foot to do the "puttin' into place". There's times I'd like to do that to some people...but wouldn't.

When he's had enough of the world, he shuts it out. Even when there's a crowd around him, he doesn't mind being alone. He has the most amazing ability to withdraw from everything going on around him and focus intently on what he's doing. Of course, there are times that can be a problem; like when I've had to say his name three times before he even hears me.

He's curious. And he acts on that curiousity. Sometimes his curiosity gets him into trouble; like the time he tried to see if a whole roll of toilet paper would fit down the flush. When interrogated as to why he would do such a thing, his response was simply, "To see if it would fit."

He has an opinion about everything... okay, I do too... but he shares it. If he thinks you did something stupid, he'll tell you. If you smell a little funky, he'll tell you. This is the kid who sat by his Sunday school teacher, miticulously poked at her side, then turned his round little cheeks to her and informed her, "You've got some fat there."

He's not afraid to admit that he's afraid. No matter how many times I've assured him (and even gotten to the point of scolding him) that there is nothing in his closet, he's still afraid, and he tells me... generally at 1 or 2 o'clock in the morning....
"I'm scared..."
"Whhhhaaaaatttt?" (did I mention I'm a big whiny butt at 2 a.m.?)
"I'm scared..."
(rolling out of bed) "C'mon...back to bed...."

He may be afraid, but he'd rather face his fear than hide from it. He insists that his closet door be left open every night so he can see into it.

He'll try anything once, twice if he can get away with it. These scenarios generally start with, "I bet you don't dare to..." and end with the traditional, "What were you thinking?!?!" Examples? Hanging upside down from the top of the swingset, using the wagon as a skateboard on the hill outback, refilling the toothpaste tube with water, eating a ladybug, and let's not forget the toilet paper incident.

He doesn't hold a grudge. He gets mad, let's you know it, and then gets over it. End of story; he doesn't stew over things or drudge up things from the past. He's usually back to lovin' ya within 10 minutes.

He's not a big fan of rules; at least not if he can justify why it shouldn't be a rule...
"I have to run in the house or else my body get's ahead of me."
"I thought the keys on the calculator would look nice if they were black."
"I wrote my name on the house so people would know I live here."
"The frog doesn't want to sleep alone, he gets scared too."
"The dog get's to pee on the trees."

The profound questions he comes up with...
"If it only takes us 10 minutes to get here, then how come it takes us so long to get home? Shouldn't it be the same 'cause it's the same amount of space?"
"How come the moon follows us when were driving, but not when were walking?"
And my favorite...
"Can your body be covered by your shadow?"

I'm not sure where this apple came from; the saying goes the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. His sister and I are two peas in a pod, and the last time I checked, apples don't come from peas... should I give his father the credit? Some maybe, but I'd rather think he's my alter-ego... everything that I am not.


Blogger johngoldfine said...

So many nice things in this bouquet, it's hard to choose which to pick out for special attention (and I call this kind of approach the bouquet approach--a bunch of flowers, nicely arranged, leaving a huge impression on the reader). Or call it a mosaic in words.

I really don't know why I should be saying anything--the writer must know how she's getting her effects, right? I know there's a Mother's Day and a Father's Day--if there were such a thing as Kid's Day, I'd advise you to give your kid this instead of a card 'cause it does seem to indicate without much doubt a pile of love you couldn't pack into a fleet of 18 wheelers.

I bet this wrote itself--did it come out easily, one idea feeding off another so fast your fingers couldn't keep up? It reads that way. The last graf just wraps it perfectly.

September 29, 2004 at 6:56 PM  
Blogger johngoldfine said...

The greatest compliment I have: I keep coming back to this and rereading it even though I don't have to. It is such a clean piece of writing: clean in spirit and clean in execution. Don't ask me to define 'clean'--it's just the adjective that popped into my head.

October 3, 2004 at 9:42 PM  

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