On the way from our house into town there is one convenience store (yes, one in a 30 minute drive). It happens to be a place we had to stop a few weeks ago when Lucy was throwing up in the car. Meanwhile, Lucy is in a Spanish immersion preschool, and has recently been asking how to say things in Spanish. This is how the drive home from preschool today went.
Lucy: "How do you say tree?"
Me: "Arbol."
Lucy: "How do you say flower?"
Me: "Flor."
Lucy: "How to you say throw-up place?"
Me: "I have no idea."
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Lucy's 9/11
I had a really interesting conversation with Lucy today about 9/11. We passed a memorial ceremony happening at the local fire station and she asked what was going on. In trying to explain it to her, I was stuck by the
enormity of fear. Not just the fear we all felt that day but of fear itself.
Lucy: "What's happening?"
Me: "It's September 11. They're remembering this day because a long time ago, before you were born, something very scary happened."
Lucy: "What happened?"
Me: "Airplanes flew into buildings and killed lots of people."
Lucy: "Will they kill me?"
Fear. For the first time, I felt 9/11 in a new way - as a mother. "Will they kill me?" Tears welled up in my eyes.
Me: "No. No. I will keep you safe. I will keep you safe."
It was enough to ease Lucy's mind and stop her questions, but it's keep me wondering about it all day. Could I? Could I keep her safe? An entire nation was paralyzed by confusion and fear on that day. I realized that if we were one of the families on Flight 175, and our plane had been hijacked, destined for tower 2, I couldn't. I couldn't keep her safe. My one deepest desire as a parent - for my child to survive - would devolve into fear. Fight or flight.
As someone who has done extensive traveling and grown up as an American abroad, I didn't have the same level of shock on the day of 9/11 as many of my other American friends had. I was 17-years-old. I had seen anti-Americanism first hand in South America and knew that while we were unarguably the most developed and enviable county on earth, we also had a habit of acting like it. Of being the playground bully. So on an international level, I got it. I understood why this was happening. I understood why American foreign policy had left other countries mad at us.
But today, on a personal level, I understood something anew. I understood the plight of every parent, of every "boot in your ass" American. I understood fear. Author and artist Elizabeth Stone once said, "Making the decision to have a child in momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." The thought of my own daughter being unsafe ignited a primal feeling in me. And in an instant I understood why so many people reacted the way they did on that day - fight or flight. Because they believed they were unsafe. That the attack on those towers was an attack on them and their families. It was an "aha!" moment for me. I had never seen it that way before.
Lucy: "What's happening?"
Me: "It's September 11. They're remembering this day because a long time ago, before you were born, something very scary happened."
Lucy: "What happened?"
Me: "Airplanes flew into buildings and killed lots of people."
Lucy: "Will they kill me?"
Fear. For the first time, I felt 9/11 in a new way - as a mother. "Will they kill me?" Tears welled up in my eyes.
Me: "No. No. I will keep you safe. I will keep you safe."
It was enough to ease Lucy's mind and stop her questions, but it's keep me wondering about it all day. Could I? Could I keep her safe? An entire nation was paralyzed by confusion and fear on that day. I realized that if we were one of the families on Flight 175, and our plane had been hijacked, destined for tower 2, I couldn't. I couldn't keep her safe. My one deepest desire as a parent - for my child to survive - would devolve into fear. Fight or flight.
As someone who has done extensive traveling and grown up as an American abroad, I didn't have the same level of shock on the day of 9/11 as many of my other American friends had. I was 17-years-old. I had seen anti-Americanism first hand in South America and knew that while we were unarguably the most developed and enviable county on earth, we also had a habit of acting like it. Of being the playground bully. So on an international level, I got it. I understood why this was happening. I understood why American foreign policy had left other countries mad at us.
But today, on a personal level, I understood something anew. I understood the plight of every parent, of every "boot in your ass" American. I understood fear. Author and artist Elizabeth Stone once said, "Making the decision to have a child in momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." The thought of my own daughter being unsafe ignited a primal feeling in me. And in an instant I understood why so many people reacted the way they did on that day - fight or flight. Because they believed they were unsafe. That the attack on those towers was an attack on them and their families. It was an "aha!" moment for me. I had never seen it that way before.
Monday, September 10, 2012
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Compound Words
Lucy has made a habit of combining words. Some sound so good I might even adapt them into my own vocabulary. Some of my favorites:
vanilla + granola = granilla
one-eye + cyclops = eyeclops
gallop + giddy-up = gally-up!
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
First day
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
The farmer in the dell told me so ...
Me: Please eat your macaroni and cheese.
Lucy: No!
Me: Why not?
Lucy: Because the cheese stands alone!
(P.S. "Why not?" is always a horrible question to ask a child)
Lucy: No!
Me: Why not?
Lucy: Because the cheese stands alone!
(P.S. "Why not?" is always a horrible question to ask a child)
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Nemo Sprocket
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)