I was in the front room editing some exciting stuff my brother had written, so I couldn't see what all was going on, but I got the gist: They were working along pretty well. They made jokes, and got a lot of the kitchen wet. They never really stopped, but a long time had passed and, really, they hadn't made much progress. There were still a lot of dishes to do.
They worked a bit longer in silence. I went on reading. My wife went on doing whatever she was doing. My daughter scooted her step stool back from the counter top - I could hear the screechy rumble of the thing being thrown into reverse - and turned to her mother.
"Mom, I want to be like you." she said. "I don't want to do dishes anymore; I'll just take care of the baby."
A silence fell in the house. I was in the front room, and the wife was somewhere between the dish-washing kiddos and me. My oldest son must have stopped. I imagined his jaw hanging open, white plate in hand dripping water slowly down on the no-man's-land between the sink and the dishwasher. My daughter, I knew, would be sporting a most clever expression on her perfect little four-year-old face. She must have known that she had delivered what we would call "a good one."
I think red ink from my pen pooled on its tip and hung there, frozen in the act of making a dive for the run-on sentence far below it, as if it too were waiting to hear mom's reply.
A burst of laughter filled the house. I am not sure whether I laughed first, or if it were my wife, but we laughed long and hard. My oldest son, ever the sensitive peacemaker, no doubt laughed a laugh of relief - he would never say something like that to his mother. He dislikes any hint of tension.
It is excellent being a parent. You get to see yourself, and hear about yourself, from the perspective of people who are probably the most honest customers you will ever find.
The other day we were discussing the concept of "sedentary" and that of "living a sedentary lifestyle." The kid's inputs were thick with buzzwords they had picked up from some health day at school. We trotted out various definitions of sedentary, none of which would please Mr. Webster, and I worked to stop mom from giving known examples of people who might help define the terms for the kids.
My oldest son, who is six, said, "Well, that means dad is sedentary because he just looks at auctions all day."
The statement, while I would argue against its veracity, was a score for the boy - a good one. Everyone had a good laugh. Mom high fived our son, my daughter cackled with glee, I played the offended party and had a great laugh myself.
It taught me a few things: Kids pay attention to what you do, even when you think they are otherwise contented or preoccupied; and what's more, whatever it is you are doing matters to them - makes its mark.
Right now, I am spending too much time typing this entry. The kids are watching.
No comments:
Post a Comment