Kids are the greatest, aren’t they? You tell them to handle that glass with care (they weren’t supposed to have it in the first place, but they’re getting older; everybody deserves a chance to prove themselves), and as soon as they nod their agreement, the glass slips out of their hands and shatters on the floor, milk splattering all over the cabinets.
They just wanted you to have something to clean up.
This is only one of the ways children love their parents. There are several more, including
1. Knees and elbows everywhere.
Any time I’m sitting in a chair, minding my own business (usually reading), a boy will launch himself into my lap. And by launch, I mean with missile-speed. If the book doesn’t take my face off, an elbow or knee will do the trick. I’ve almost lost teeth in the launch process.
If I happen to stretch out on the floor for a moment of meditation (or a short ten-minute nap), boys will climb all over me, jump off me, try to turn me over. They are the boniest creatures I’ve ever known. I wear more bruises on my body than I ever did when I played high school volleyball.
2. All the things they leave out.
My boys have one talent that rises above all the others: making a mess. They walk out of their shoes and their clothes, and when they’re doing art, they forget where pencils go and how to put away paper. They are constantly leaving apple cores in places where apples aren’t supposed to be consumed.
I’m sure they’re just trying to show me how much they love me: I’m still needed, after all.
But I swear, if I have to pick up one more smashed banana, I’m going to leave a vomit offering on their pillows, along with a note that says, “I love you back.”
3. Telling all our secrets.
My boys talk about Husband and me all the time, and because they spend the bulk of their time at school (and, consequently, miss us terribly), they air these secrets to their teachers. Their teachers now think we are parents who sing songs about bodily functions, hold regular burping contests (they’re not really contests; I’m the defending champion, and the others don’t even come close. It’s really just a concert.), and arm-fart their prayers. They probably think we’re the most immature parents ever.
Oh well. At least they haven’t told about the Drunk Daddy routine. Yet. (If they have told you about this, kindergarten teacher, don’t worry. It sounds worse than it is. Daddy is not a drunk. He pretends to run into doors and hurt himself. That’s all.)
4. Watch this.
It never fails; I’m right in the middle of doing something important—trying to figure out whose underwear is whose, for example—and one of my boys will shout out: “Watch this, Mama!” It could be that he wants me to watch a car go down this amazing track he built (it’s the car with the broken wheel, which means it will take the car forever and a day to limp down the track), or he wants me to watch a flip on the couch (he’ll hurt his finger in the process and it will take me fifteen minutes to kiss away the pain), or he wants me to see that he’s mooning me (he’ll only do that once).
“Watch this” is just code for “I love you so much.”
5. Drawings on important papers.
Every time I have to return a paper to their school or to the doctor’s office or maybe to my publisher or agent, I will find drawings—some tiny enough to be dismissed, some large enough to require a new copy; good thing the school always sends five copies of everything—on them.
I’m sure all they’re saying is, “I am here.”
And I’m so glad they’re here, glad for every way they show me they love me.
Most days.
(Photo by This is Now Photography.)
