His choice of books at the library: Deadly Predators, Shark Attack and Military Helicopters. I tried to persuade him to maybe choose something else, but he was resolute. Nearby, there was a meeting of new mums, tiny babies curled into their arms, listening earnestly and nervously to advice about what to read to their child. I wanted to warn them that one day, despite all the hours spent reading beautifully illustrated picture books and finely crafted traditional tales, their little darling will gravitate towards the books with ugly photos of sharp teethed animals and machinery. But that would be cruel.
When we got home, I read the military helicopter book to him. He sat and listened, slightly perplexed. Later, at bedtime, he flicked through the book once again.
"I don't really like this helicopter book... it's all about killing...but I want to know about killing because then I can stop all the killing."
Holy moly, he's three years old!
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
I am hardly ever alone. This seems to be the difference between two and three children. I nearly always have at least one with me. Today, I caught the bus on my own and experienced one of those eerie feelings of being in another time and (head) space. Sitting at the bus stop, with the cold blue sky above and the bright sunshine in my eyes, my daughter's portfolio leaning against my legs, I felt nervous and insecure, like a teenage version of myself. And then it occurred to me that one day in the not too distant future, I'll spend hours every day on my own; that I will have to grow accustomed to this state because it has become so strange to me. I've always sought out time on my own: it's when I can daydream and be the most inspired. It's not that I don't like being around other people - I love talking and dislike eating alone - but I need to retreat, from time to time, into the world of my imagination. I was annoyed that I forgot my book today and missed out on an opportunity to read, but it was so much better, just to have that space to think and feel.
Thursday, July 18, 2013
I'm starting to notice a pattern to the school holidays in this household:
- Spend first few days hanging out and doing very little.
- Get sick - one child after the other and finally me.
- Recover very slowly...
- Stay close to home: see a few friends, do a little baking and crafting, watch quite a lot of iview.
- Feel guilty because we have not done anything that we should do in the holidays (museums, galleries, fun action-packed days out...).
- Realise that the kids are pretty happy just hanging out at home, doing very little.
- Relax and enjoy having them all here and not having to be anywhere on time.