And if you still don't believe me, consider this gem.
Enough said.
Whether it's teaching, bus driving, parenting, whatever--when you encounter kids, they have a way of putting you in your place. My head has been hanging a little lower lately, and it's not just because I am lamenting over the ever breeding stains on my carpet.
Prideful moment # 1: Our little Jovie is smart as a whip.
Jovie is not advanced verbally, but she understands an incredible amount of what we say and ask of her to do. And I, of course, beam inside when other people notice her "brilliance" too. So about a month ago after I finished changing my little Einstein's diaper, I told her to put the old one in the trash. I then busied myself with getting the boys off to preschool. We all returned home late that afternoon, and Hudson went to the bathroom.
"MOM! There's a HUGE diaper floating in the toilet!"
Have you ever seen a disposable diaper that's been sitting in a big bowl of water for six hours?! It was like pulling an exploding brick out of our commode. Needless to say, maybe using "brilliant" to describe Jovie was a slight exaggeration. But toilet and trash do sound shockingly similar. They both begin with T . . .
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| Jovie for President. |
If I tried to recall how many times Jovie has gotten into my dry pasta and emptied the box all over the floor, steam would start escaping from my ears. Let's just say, it's been enough that I stopped throwing the dirtied pasta away. I just stick it all back in the box--it's going to be boiled, right? Maybe you should just skip spaghetti night at our house. Anyway, a few weeks ago, Jovie got into my spaghetti box for the umpteenth time.
"Jovie!!! Why can't you learn that playing with pasta is not a good idea?! This is not a fun game!"
"Not a fun game? What planet are you on? Of course it's fun. I just shook a box of noodles which made a cool sound and then got to see them scatter all over the floor. Next you squealed and squinched up your face in that ridiculous way. And best of all, we got to pick up all the pasta and put it back in the box--a toddler's favorite game! Hey Brainiac, I'm not even three feet tall. Put the pasta on a higher shelf. Until you start learning from your mistakes, game on." (Jovie's thoughts as interpreted by her big blue eyes and impish grin.)
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| At least my oh-so-wise mother has the sense to strip me down for spaghetti night. |
It's been my mantra lately. Stuff has been getting to me. It is breeding in the same way that the carpet stains are breeding. And the toys! There's so many of them. So many UNPLAYED with toys. I told the boys to start gathering stuff to give away, including one stuffed animal each. I was beaming with pride as they collected their piles to give to charity. But my proud eyes suddenly turned into a scowl. Corbin chose a stuffed killer whale to give away. MY stuffed killer whale.
"Corbin, that whale is mine. It's not yours to give away."
"Well, why can't you give it away?" he asked.
"Because it's mine. I'm letting you guys borrow it for a bit. Isn't that nice of Mommy? But, it's my very special Shamu-mu. We can't give it away."
Shamu-mu is indeed my very special whale. What kid doesn't dream of owning a stuffed killer whale? Although I was 17 when I got him, so calling myself a kid is a bit of a stretch. But don't worry. After that conversation, I totally saw my own selfishness. Shamu-mu is now being well loved by a sweet little girl. Whose name happens to be Jovie. What a coincidence.
Kids are indeed humbling. They remind us of our own imperfections, our own stupidity, and our own absurdity. But as much as we try to appear like we know it all and have all the answers, maybe our childlike tendencies aren't completely bad . . .
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