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These simple days

I sat down to eat lunch with Teddy, who at newly-four is brimming with observations and ideas.

“Let’s talk about chickens,” he suggested.

I nodded because I had just taken a bite of my one millionth hot dog and couldn’t scream yes.

“Some chickens are white. Some chickens are black. Some chickens are green.”

“Green?” I wondered.

“If they’re sick.”

“Oh, yes, of course.”

Teddy changed the subject to fish and their many colors. Then he saw a bird zip by the sliding glass door and pronounced it so funny. I missed it because I was facing the wrong way, but I believe him when he says something is funny. He’s an authority. Abruptly, he left but quickly returned wearing cowboy boots, two sizes too big, on the wrong feet.

“It’s beautiful outside!” he pointed.

I am always grateful and amazed when little ones notice beauty. I looked. It’s a brilliantly sunny day. Our backyard trees are swaying and stingily jettisoning leaves two or three at a time. “That’s what fall means,” he whispered. Just then, my mom called to check on Ollie, who isn’t feeling well. Teddy danced around me, asking to talk to her. After a few minutes of catching her up on his condition and other family news, I handed my phone to him and he strolled around with it, talking.

They have a tradition when they say goodbye. Teddy says, “Goodbye, crocodile!” and she’ll say “Goodbye, alligator!” and then he’ll think of another animal to call her. Today, it went on longer than usual with the back-and-forth goodbye census of an entire zoo. He was satisfied eventually and handed the phone back to me so I could say “Goodbye, mom!”

I put my phone down.

“Are crocodiles real?” he asked.

“Definitely!”

We could talk about them at lunch tomorrow. Sometimes, I catch myself delighting in my own life. It seems strange to say it that way, but I get to spend my days with small people who challenge me to consider the chickens, the leaves, the realness of crocodiles. Of course, there are days when they are loud, whiny, messy and I desperately miss adult conversation. But today, not so much.

teddy, chalking the patio

teddy, chalking the patio

Busting the Customary

I was waiting in the car for the last of the three high schoolers to exit the house. The engine was running. The two who were already in the car were moaning over how the third was going to make them all late for first period. I was ready to honk when the tardy kid burst out, ran our way without looking back, and failed to close the front door.

The straggler opened the back passenger door and climbed in, breathless.

“You forgot something!” I sighed.

“No, I have everything.”

“It’s customary to close the front door when you’re the last person out.”

The kid’s eyes narrowed. “Since when has our family been customary?” Hiss. Growl. Indicted.

I was a bit shocked as I watched my livid teen stomp out of the car and back to the house, slamming the door shut. As we drove, we discussed junior baby elementary door etiquette basics, like shut the door if you’re the last one out and don’t slam the door and is it locked? Poor attitudes were also noted as unacceptable, especially in those who make basic errors and aren’t contrite.

As I drove home from the school, I started thinking less about the door issue and more about how our family isn’t customary. No, it isn’t. In fact, we’ve taken custom, flipped it upside down and added polka dots. I wondered why the kid chose to invoke our family when called out on a mistake. Our family didn’t forget to close the door. Our family wasn’t the last one out for a short but humdrum ride to school. Yet, our family—in all it’s weirdness and unwieldiness—was on the brain. The beginning of the school year is always ripe for the “Why is our Family so Big?” discussion. They meet new kids and new teachers. They are often asked to introduce themselves and inevitably someone asks about brothers and sisters. I can see them now, taking their deep breaths, bracing. Younger kids usually have to draw pictures of their families.

“We don’t all fit in this little box!” they’ve groaned as they struggled to include us on worksheets sent home from school.

“Draw outside the line?”

Some of our kids do. Some don’t.

Not everyone is thrilled with the bulk of our brood. Sometimes, assaults come from inside like friendly fire but I’m okay with that. They didn’t get to choose. But it’s interesting to see who can go beyond the lines and who wishes to stay within defined borders.

life is bumpy

life is bumpy

My Dumb Hobby is 10 Years Old Today

I believe I’ve earned the right to post a screed about how blogging has changed so much in the past decade. But I won’t.

Today, I’m simply grateful for the people I’ve met, the places I’ve been, and the challenge of maintaining such a silly little sliver of a sliver of the internet.

Thank you, friends.

What will the next 10 years bring?

What will the next 10 years bring?