Or: How I Kill My Child's Imagination and Dreams, One Answer at a Time
So, as most children his age are wont to do, Fruit Loop asks questions. Lots and lots of questions. Ones he knows perfectly well the answers to. Ones he has no idea what he's talking about. Ones that are intelligent. Ones that are...not so much.
And when he's not asking questions, he's talking. Talking, talking, talking. People remark on how articulate he is - it is because he never stops practicing!
Many, many times I am focusing my mental energies on something else, and I do one of several things: 1) tune out the myriad (often repetitive or similarly-themed) questions and running commentary; 2) give some vague sound for an answer for him to interpret as he sees fit (the problem being that Fruit Loop is not content with vague and amorphous thoughts, but instead MUST PIN YOU DOWN WITH AN ANSWER); 3) give a real answer (as in, words and everything) that makes no sense because I was not paying attention (see #1); 4) cut him off and tell him I really am not paying attention right now - the questions can wait while I try not to burn dinner (e.g.).
All of this leads me to be a bit...dismissive...of the wonderful, creative, awe-filled experience that is Fruit Loop, that is a child growing up and marveling at the world around him. For example:
*****
FL: Whoa, look at that hill of snow! Maybe some day we can go sledding, and that would be a good place to go sledding, right, Mom?
Me: Except that it's right next to the highway. (hears his little dream shatter before he gamely rallies with a "But that's still a good hill, right?")
FL: Maybe, after an earthquake and the buildings fall down and all of the pieces fall into the ocean, then a diver can go down and get them and they can build the building again!
Me: Mm, they'd probably just build a new building. (sees his crestfallen expression as she pulverizes yet another a great idea...followed by his confusion as to why anyone would pick such a boring alternative to his totally way cooler idea)
FL: (holding a Lego jet of his own creation, tearing around the living room and making airplane noises) Do jets go fast as this?
Me: No, even faster. (in a more defeatist than encouraging tone. You think I would have learned by now, don't you?)
*****
And that's just from the last five hours.
He is a precocious child, he is. But I get too caught up in the daily chores and outside things to get done that I don't stop and appreciate life through his eyes. I dismiss his big ideas, quash his imaginative musings, and discourage his curiosity with a lack of patience, my inattention, or my placing him second to all sorts of other things that can certainly wait - or do with less of my attention, at least.
He is growing up, and I am throwing these moments aside.
Gah, the mommy guilt. It pains me so.
Perhaps musing over how I can better enjoy life through his eyes is in store - with the help of a few pals of mine: Ben. And Jerry. As in, ICE CREAM.*
*Actually, it's just one pal, Dean. You know, Dean's ice cream, not Ben & Jerry's ice cream. But for some reason, that's just not as funny.
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