Ed note: Be warned, the following is unedited due to time constraints. Godspeed.
Okay, guys, I know I owe you the second half of the Godspell post. And I’ll get to it; I swear. But in the meantime, the conveyor belt in my head is backing up with blog posts and well, I kinda feel like this ..
Except that I can’t eat blog posts, which is good, because if I could I probably would and heaven knows, they’d be high in calories.
Anyway, I just have to tell you about my very last conversation with Brooke last night before leaving her room. I hope once you read it, you’ll understand why it simply couldn’t wait. But first, a little context.
First, there was this:
Which was awesome.
Later, there was this:
Which was not awesome at all.
And then there was this …
Which was so awesome that the earlier not awesome really didn’t matter anymore.
Oh, there was also this …
Which has nothing at all to do with this post, but dude, WE MADE STUFF. TOGETHER. And for the record, the only one of the four that I had any involvement in beading at all was the Christmas tree and only because someone totally bamboozled me into “helping” and then giggled every time I tried to give it back and she said, “No YOU do it.” But the other three? ALL HER. Yes, Rudolph. ALL HER. I know. Moving on …
So, at bed time, we had a few things to discuss. Over the course of the day, we’d talked about some rules. Brooke likes rules – the more hard and fast (harder and faster?) and the less bendable, the better. So we talked about rules.
Scissors are NEVER to be used for cutting one’s own hair.
Lying to one’s Mama is NOT okay.
The sand must always be put out of reach of the dogs when we’re done playing with it.
Pretty straightforward stuff. Except for the lying part, because that gets confusing and a little messy, but answering, “No I didn’t cut my hair,” when you’ve clearly just cut your hair? Well, yeah, that is pretty straightforward. So, at bedtime, we reviewed what we had talked about during the day.
The conversation went like this …
Me: “Let’s talk about the rules that we learned today, okay?”
Me: “What’s the rule about scissors?”
Me: “What do we never use scissors for?”
B: “Cutting our hair.”
B: “Anyone else’s hair.”
Me: “That’s exactly right.”
Me: “And what did we learn about the truth? What’s the rule?”
B: “That we tell it always.”
Me: “Right. And what happens when we tell a fib?”
B: “We get in trouble. And get a time out.”
(For the record, time outs aren’t and have never been part of our repertoire, so this isn’t what happened. However, they are part of her scripting world thanks to shows like Ni Hao Kai-LAN and she relates being in trouble with getting a time out, even though she doesn’t get time outs.) If you followed that, go get yourself a piece of Halloween candy to celebrate.
Me: “That’s right. But most importantly, how do people feel when we don’t tell them the truth?”
Me: “That’s right. And how does that make you feel — when people are angry?”
Me: “That’s right. So if fibbing makes people feel angry and then we feel sad that they’re angry, should we be fibbing?”
B: “Not ever.”
Me: “That’s right.”
Me: “And what did we learn about the sand?”
B: “That we put it in the kitchen when we’re done with it so that Lucy and Winston wouldn’t eat it.”
Me: “Great job, Brooke. That’s exactly right.”
As this conversation was happening, I was lying in the dark marveling at the very fact that, well, this conversation was happening. Those of you who have been around here awhile will know that there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in Hell of Brooke being able to do this a year ago. But here we are. And it’s a pretty damned good place to be. I wanted to throw her up in the air and celebrate. But instead, I asked one more question. This one was nonsensical. Just for fun. Or so I thought. Just to make her laugh, I asked …
“And what’s the rule for Mama?”
I thought she’d say, “You’re silly, Mama. There’s no rule for Mama!” But she didn’t. She thought about it as though it was a serious question. And she answered with one word …
There are days upon days when I feel like I’m screwing this all up. And then there are days like yesterday when, impromptu hair cuts and all, I’m pretty sure I’m getting something right.