We see things not as they are, but as we are.
I've been thinking about this quote a bit lately, along with a host of others I chant to myself in a mantra-like keep-calm way, during the times when the baby's crying and there's poop in underwear and the bread in the oven is burning and someone's just pinched her fingers in the door. You know, Tuesday afternoons.
I especially come to this quote when Peter and Lucy are doing those things that drive me completely insane. Stuff like: dawdling over goose poop when we're about to go to the Please Touch Museum. Or waiting forever and a day to go to the bathroom. Or screaming in frustration when the water bottle I've just handed over is CLOSED.
In these situations, I see:
- children who don't understand how heavy the giant backpack on my shoulders is, or how badly I need to go to the bathroom, or how afraid I am that Thomas is going to start screaming and thus short-circuiting my brain;
- children who are dancing and prancing around yet insisting they don't have to go to the bathroom, only to dash off a moment too late, or when someone else has called my attention away from helping;
- children who can't "use their words" and "just ask" instead of "screaming about a water bottle, isn't that silly?"
What I should see:
- dude, poop is cool. There's no two ways about it. Check out how many people gawk when the elephant has to go at the zoo.
- "I just need to finish this bit to my project/game/picture/activity. Or, I'm afraid if I get up and go to the bathroom, someone will take my toy, or Mommy will change our activity, or I'll forget what I'm doing"
- "I'm THIRSTY and FRUSTRATED that I can't open my own water bottle. Isn't that a problem? Why did you hand me a closed water bottle when I said I'M THIRSTY!"
I've been trying in all of these silly ways to keep the children unduly affected by our modern, popular, commercial culture. I've been trying to shape them, keep their innocence intact, and help protect them from this big, wide world that frightens even me at times.
Yet, I find myself blinded time and time again by that same innocence I've worked so hard to preserve. It's tricky to find yourself painted into a corner, yet here I am.
So go ahead a blow dry your hair. What's the difference between an extra five minutes at the pool and playing with a superawesometotallycool hairdryer, anyway? And the next time I get antsy about all that time you're spending in the post-pool shower, just quote me some Paradise Lost.
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