Okay, I know I said I was going to do "List #2: Whining" but I'm not quite ready for that yet. Actually I have a bunch of whining stuff in my drafts folder, but I'm not in the mood to look at it. That entry will have to wait.
This entry is about my children. Sometimes in life, all kinds of issues just crop up at one time. As much as I'd like to, I can't just spill it all here, but suffice it to say that my children are both currently like little Vikings doing their best to navigate icy waters and unforgiving land. I guess this is growing up in the 21st century?
One got himself in too deep and needed Mama Viking to pull him out. The experience left his stomach in knots all day, but I think he'll be okay. The other has forged her figurative Ulfberht sword and has gone to battle in an idealistic crusade against mean girls. (Do you like the Viking analogy)?
Finally, that same warrior girl has looked me in the eye tonight and said, "I want my mother to tell me the truth." The subject? The Elf on the Shelf.
Here is the story. A family member (having no idea that my daughter put her heart and soul into communicating with her elf on the shelf, Francis) decided to tell her the true history of the book and doll. After crying in the bathroom for approximately an hour, she came out and proceeded to be sullen and difficult. (I was not present). Her father finally got her to reveal what was upsetting her and said-family-member attempted to back track and say that the elf and the shelf might be real after all. This just left her with a terrible feeling of uncertainty.
So, reader, (isn't that so old-fashioned and cute?) return with me now to this present evening in which she says, "I want my mother to tell me the truth."
I did. Of course. And she was relieved, because she had already grieved. She was ready to know that it was me. And she got a kick out of the notes I had written, the name I gave him, and the places I had hidden him. She was ready to know. It felt better to know than to be in darkness. She attempted to move the conversation into other magical beings, but I managed to put her off. I think she agreed that we shouldn't try to figure out all the mysteries of the world in one night.
And do you know what she said just before I turned out the light? "Make sure he shows up for my half birthday!"
This entry is about my children. Sometimes in life, all kinds of issues just crop up at one time. As much as I'd like to, I can't just spill it all here, but suffice it to say that my children are both currently like little Vikings doing their best to navigate icy waters and unforgiving land. I guess this is growing up in the 21st century?
One got himself in too deep and needed Mama Viking to pull him out. The experience left his stomach in knots all day, but I think he'll be okay. The other has forged her figurative Ulfberht sword and has gone to battle in an idealistic crusade against mean girls. (Do you like the Viking analogy)?
Finally, that same warrior girl has looked me in the eye tonight and said, "I want my mother to tell me the truth." The subject? The Elf on the Shelf.
Here is the story. A family member (having no idea that my daughter put her heart and soul into communicating with her elf on the shelf, Francis) decided to tell her the true history of the book and doll. After crying in the bathroom for approximately an hour, she came out and proceeded to be sullen and difficult. (I was not present). Her father finally got her to reveal what was upsetting her and said-family-member attempted to back track and say that the elf and the shelf might be real after all. This just left her with a terrible feeling of uncertainty.
So, reader, (isn't that so old-fashioned and cute?) return with me now to this present evening in which she says, "I want my mother to tell me the truth."
I did. Of course. And she was relieved, because she had already grieved. She was ready to know that it was me. And she got a kick out of the notes I had written, the name I gave him, and the places I had hidden him. She was ready to know. It felt better to know than to be in darkness. She attempted to move the conversation into other magical beings, but I managed to put her off. I think she agreed that we shouldn't try to figure out all the mysteries of the world in one night.
And do you know what she said just before I turned out the light? "Make sure he shows up for my half birthday!"
RSS Feed
