Maya Skye. That’s one of our twins. Possibly, one of the most complex, 6 year old girls ever to walk the planet earth.
At issue: is it lying if she technically, and partially, tells some of the truth; but does not disclose all of the truth?
This was our parenting dilemma: Today Maya staunchly denied hitting her 3 year old brother. After a major — in fact, epic, dressing down by Blas, she quietly admitted to pulling and pinching, NOT hitting her brother. She stammered the truth and made an elegant defense of the technicality.
We instructed her that pulling, pinching, biting, and pushing falls under the category of hitting. So, when asked whether she “hit” her brother, she should have said: “I didn’t hit him but I did hurt him when I pulled and pinched him.”
Maya was grounded for the rest of the night. She fell asleep with a tear stained face and a frown.
Blue skies ahead, we hope.
April 22, 2009
Completely unprovoked, my 6 year old daughter sauntered over to me as I prepared her school lunch and informed me that I was old. She told me she could tell because of my neck.
She gestured toward her own swan-like neck and told me that her neck was smooth and unblemished. She’s right. Hers looks like alabaster.
I verified her comments with a long and penetrating stare in the mirror. How and when did this happen? I must immediately purchase neck cream.
Or I can from this day forward completely and utterly disregard all her observations, and believe only my son, my 3 year old son, who likens me to all Mustangs and commercial vehicles. (He has a thing for speed and load capacity).
He says I am “shiny and bootyful”.
April 21, 2009
Here is the thing about jogging. You never look up. You look ahead or you look at the floor. You never look up.
A few days ago I set out for my afternoon jog when I suddenly felt a swoosh! near my neck; quickly followed by a squawk! It happened twice more before I realized that birds were attacking me.
I was mildly amused until the next day, when I jogged past the same area. The same freaking birds attacked me. I ran as fast as I could, half bewildered, half terrified by the darned birds.
I spoke to my husband and he told me the crows were probably protecting a nearby nest and that I should, “toughen up”. Well, when I set out yesterday, I decided I would run looking up and behind me in the danger zone and not allow these birds to deter me from my run.
That’s a laugh. A crow hovered behind me and squawked loudly with a furious flap of his wings right at the nape of my neck. It was horrible. I screamed and ran as fast as I could back toward my house.
An elderly woman pushing a baby carriage laughed as I ran past her. I warned her to stay clear of that path. She paid no mind and pushed her grandson through the danger zone. She cleared the path, unperturbed.
I wish her no harm, but, what’s the deal? Why did those crows ignore her?
I revisited the site today with my husband. Well protected inside our car, I observed him in his work clothes re-enact my jog. It was funny. Within seconds the crows screeched their battle-cry and came after him with a vengeance.
I am currently reconsidering my running path and that’s a shame. Part of the pleasure of jogging is to see nature unfold itself as you run past.
Does anyone know how long it takes crows to hatch their eggs?
April 20, 2009