The little boy

The poem below is P to a T. Despite his being amazingly strong willed and knowing his mind, he questions his abilities when confronted with more adept adults. If he tries something new and someone steps in to show him a "better" or "proper" approach its often all over for him. The fire and possibilities are gone, swallowed by a staid and solid "goal." He saw one of my works (his first time) when we were home and felt fairly inspired afterwards. He requested large paper and pencils so he could make a drawing for me - and then we could trade (he wanted mine :) As I cooked he worked at the table, then set down his pencils and wandered towards me, done. Under his breath he sighed "I wish my drawing looked like yours." And this is why he paints rather than draws. He sees a goal in drawing: reality. Perfectionist that he is, this is a goal he can't yet achieve and therefore he only feels frustration. In paint (we've seen lots of modern painter's works here!) there is only possibilities...

This poem tugs at my heartstrings - how malleable wee ones are and how easily we can fuck them up, even with the best of intentions....


The Little Boy

Once a little boy went to school.
He was quite a little boy
And it was quite a big school.
But when the little boy
Found that he could go to his room
By walking right in from the door outside
He was happy;
And the school did not seem
Quite so big anymore.

One morning
When the little boy had been in school awhile,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make a picture."
"Good!" thought the little boy.
He liked to make all kinds;
Lions and tigers,
Chickens and cows,
Trains and boats;
And he took out his box of crayons
And began to draw.

But the teacher said, "Wait!"
"It is not time to begin!"
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
"Now," said the teacher,
"We are going to make flowers."
"Good!" thought the little boy,
He liked to make beautiful ones
With his pink and orange and blue crayons.
But the teacher said "Wait!"
"And I will show you how."
And it was red, with a green stem.
"There," said the teacher,
"Now you may begin."

The little boy looked at his teacher's flower
Then he looked at his own flower.
He liked his flower better than the teacher's
But he did not say this.
He just turned his paper over,
And made a flower like the teacher's.
It was red, with a green stem.

On another day
When the little boy had opened
The door from the outside all by himself,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make something with clay."
"Good!" thought the little boy;
He liked clay.
He could make all kinds of things with clay:
Snakes and snowmen,
Elephants and mice,
Cars and trucks
And he began to pull and pinch
His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, "Wait!"
"It is not time to begin!"
And she waited until everyone looked ready.
"Now," said the teacher,
"We are going to make a dish."
"Good!" thought the little boy,
He liked to make dishes.
And he began to make some
That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said "Wait!"
"And I will show you how."
And she showed everyone how to make
One deep dish.
"There," said the teacher,
"Now you may begin."

The little boy looked at the teacher's dish;
Then he looked at his own.
He liked his better than the teacher's
But he did not say this.
He just rolled his clay into a big ball again
And made a dish like the teacher's.
It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon
The little boy learned to wait,
And to watch
And to make things just like the teacher.
And pretty soon
He didn't make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened
That the little boy and his family
Moved to another house,
In another city,
And the little boy
Had to go to another school.
This school was even bigger
Than the other one.
And there was no door from the outside
Into his room.
He had to go up some big steps
And walk down a long hall
To get to his room.
And the very first day
He was there,
The teacher said:
"Today we are going to make a picture."
"Good!" thought the little boy.
And he waited for the teacher
To tell what to do.
But the teacher didn't say anything.
She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy
She asked, "Don't you want to make a picture?"
"Yes," said the lttle boy.
"What are we going to make?"
"I don't know until you make it," said the teacher.
"How shall I make it?" asked the little boy.
"Why, anyway you like," said the teacher.
"And any color?" asked the little boy.
"Any color," said the teacher.
"If everyone made the same picture,
And used the same colors,
How would I know who made what,
And which was which?"
"I don't know," said the little boy.
And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

—Helen Buckley

Phoenix turns four

P has been chatting about this birthday since, oh, when he turned three :) He loves everything about birthdays, particularly the song and the surprises wrapped in pretty packages. And after going to his first bday party this year (the twins') he also loved the idea of helium balloons. So I knew that including those three things would make his day. We topped it off by surrounding him with two of his uncles and an aunt and his day was golden. Despite the raging fever....

Birthdays bump up against our ethical code for living, creating a crazy pull between experiencing real joy with our child and kicking ourselves about balloons, wrapping paper and consumption :) But I had the feeling I'd been veering too far towards My ideals on His birthday when P sighed one day and dreamily asked if I thought he might, maybe, get a present with pretty paper and a bow this year :) (Wha? Those plain, recycled cardboard boxes don't seem festive?) Unfortunately, his pirate ship wouldn't fit in a pretty package once assembled, so we tied a bunch of helium balloons to it and left it in the middle of the room (hoping he wouldn't be up puking in the middle of the night and ruin the surprise :)

After a restless night he emerged, excited but bleary eyed, to see an apparently overwhelming site. He stood, transfixed, in one doorway, looking at his ship and balloons in the next room. But it wasn't clear what he was feeling, mini-enigma that he is. Having really thought through this surprise, I was just beginning to question myself when he bellowed for BB. Only once his monster joined him at his side did he crack a smile of extreme pleasure. "Look BB. Look at that." And he pointed and grinned as the monster oooed and ahhhed. Then he grabbed BB's arm and rushed to his present. Phew. Nothing worse than disappointing your four year old on the first birthday he'll probably remember :)

P gives into a grin:


Little BB takes a ride:


Before the fever was an issue we had asked P his hopes for his birthday. Musuem? Pirate ship tour? Hiking upstate? Nope, he just wanted to hang at home all day and play with us. So his fever did little to deter our plans. Little BB fit perfectly on the pirate ship and he sailed around all morning. P opened from Grams after lunch (party paper and bows and all) and we played his new games for the rest of the afternoon (he Loves games lately). By the time evening rolled around his fever was spiking and his energy dwindling. Seth and Alicia arrived to find him lethargic on the couch, too sick to open his presents without help. It was pretty pathetic.

Hating to offer medicine that would give him the comfort to jump and wrestle all evening only to crash harder later, we did it anyway - for the sake of the bday:) Within the hour he was enthusiastically shooting the spinner Uncle Bric gave him and strumming his guitar from Seth. He also shared his new pirate tattoos with everyone and stood in the dark bedroom to watch them glow. He was so surrounded by love and thoughtfulness he was practically glowing himself.

P helps Aunt Alicia with her tatoo:


One proud P:


Papa and P:


His chosen dessert, after many, many changed minds, was pumpkin pie. I shocked him silly by having candles and we all sang his favorite song. Forgetting his fever, I encouraged him to blow his candles out and then looked on in illuminated horror as I saw germs spew all over the pie. Brave family that they are, they all ate dessert :)



After that, our worms were somehow brought up and E was finally fully alert :) He grabbed his babies and proudly showed them off. P loves the Idea of our worms, but, perhaps because of their extreme numbers, he's always been a bit shuttery around them. Digging in the park, he'll rescue worms and build them little homes, but pull out the compost and he just "ewwws." His newfound fourness found him proudly holding a red wiggler worm... until it suddenly squiggled and he squealed and jumped. This got a big laugh and prompted more shenanigans. Ending with E kindly letting a worm walk on his head....




After reading one of the new books Aunt Alicia gave him he zonked, hard, only to hold onto his fever for another two days. Fortunately for us, she had also given him "The Inventions of Huge Cabret," all 550 pages of it. Told in story and pictures it instantly captured Phoenix's fascination, and he burned through it while waiting for his fever to abate, generally breaking only to play his guitar :) By the time we left town at the end of the week we only had 30 pages left, and I'd guess we'll start right back at the beginning as soon as we finish it.

A feverish Halloween

My mother informed me this morning that she is tired of looking at the pumpkin pictures :) Unfortunately, along with our toothbrushes, I forgot to pack my smart-drive... the one that allows me to upload pics to the blog. Apparently, she is rather devoted to the blog, or rather disdainful of jack-o-lanterns, as not more than a few hours later she has procured a smart-drive from a drawer. Thanks mom!



P has amassed a respectable costume bucket in the past few months. He adores the Idea of dress up. But his link between imagination and reality gets pretty fuzzy pretty fast and costumes tend to confuse him even faster. So, he'll put something on, BB and I will go along with it, and within two minutes he's ripping it off, explaining to us that its actually just him, Phoenix.



Seems silly? Get this. A few months ago we were playing while I did the dishes. I believe I was the evil stepmother and he was attempting to befriend me with kindness. Once I was kind, he was done with me and requested Cinderella play while the dishes were done. While humming a merry tune :), out of habit, I leaned over and kissed the top of his head. Instead of the normal neutrality with which this is usually accepted, I felt him bristle. Wha?? Bristling at my kiss? I hesitated behind him, wondering what had happened when I heard him whisper to himself, "That ok. Yah... I know Cinderella."

He was Uncomfortable with me kissing him because I wasn't really me. We played on and as I dried my hands I instinctively held a bite of food out to his baby bird mouth. He hesitated. Was he full? Nope. He looked at me, hard, and then muttered "I know her..." then looked at me and said, "Mama, is that you?"

The kid Won't take food from strangers. Not even extras from waitresses at restaurants that offer something we didn't order. Not unless he knows their name. Strike one for the creeps of the world, sure (the extremism is Ethan's genes to a T :) But not even from his own Mother when she is pulling a pathetic Cinderella voice? Now That is an imagination I could get behind.

But if its Me, standing there, how can he get confused? So I asked him.
Me: P, when I'm doing Cinderella or the step-mum, can you see me?
P: No
Me: Oh.... Really?
P: Well, yah. You're standing over to the side (and he motions to the side of himself)
Me: Oh.

I had a hilarious mental image of an enormous illustrated Cinderella standing by the sink and a transparent me floating beside P as backup. I have no idea what he actually sees, but, apparently, it isn't highly representative of reality :) So, getting back to costumes, he worries quite quickly that we don't understand that the adorable pirate is really P and has to rip it off to reassure us.

Nevertheless, he was super psyched for Halloween. He wasn't, however, jumping into a suit. Everyone kept asking him what he would be for Halloween, and it changed over the weeks. I had the basics for a few of his faves on the off chance he'd actually wear something, but I wasn't holding my breath or dedicating my evenings to grand sewing projects...

And on the day of he announced he would Not dress up. I mentioned that full regalia wasn't required, perhaps just a hook, even just a finger puppet might do. Something, anything for the shop keepers to recognize him as a trick-or-treater. He seemed tired, so we read a few books, including one about Dex, the super dog. And as the time to dress neared he declared he would go as "Super Nuffin." I asked if this required a patch of any sort and he said no, it was just Super. Nothin. That was all. Problem solved :)

Then he fell apart over I don't even know what. And then, for the first time in his short life, he just. fell. asleep. On the floor. Face down. After the biggest cry I've seen in over a year. It was pathetic and adorable.



And then he woke up with a fever and it all made sense :)

(You might notice the cat, cuddled up to him. Danda, the most devoted kitty on the planet. Despite all of the chasing, roaring, and tail pulling, this cat Runs to him as fast as she can whenever she hears him cry.)

So he really was super nothin for Halloween. Fortunately, the Pumpkin Fairy (friend to all kids with food allergies) visited with gifts and chemically coloring free candy, bringing fever filled glee to P. But he had sooo hoped to hand out candy that we bundled him up and went onto the stoop with a little bucket. (He even wanted to hand out his Own candy, we hadn't bought any, assuming we'd be out Getting rather than Giving :) And while we, as parents, at first worried that his Halloween would be ruined without the expected hub-bub, we should have trusted that it was all as it should be. It was perfect for P, who trick-or treated a zillion times with BB, in the comfort of his own home, sans costume, just as he actually prefers it.