By Wendy Brache
Authentic Life columnist for GreatIdeasForKids.com
Recently, my first grader came home with an adorable book he had written at school. The stapled, yellow cover held four pages of lined paper, each with his own illustration next to the words.
As I sat down, ready for a touching moment reading my son’s first novelette, I could feel him beaming with pride.
And we began.
The title of the book reflected the names of each member of our family. The inside cover showed that he had dedicated the book to “the real” us. I wasn’t sure what this meant, but it felt very sweet to have something dedicated to me.
The first page said the following, with some age appropriate misspellings:
“I have a brother named Ty. Sometimes I want to smash him up.” This lovely sentiment was accompanied by a picture of my first grader holding a huge hammer over his little brother’s head, with the words “Ai-yi-yi-yi” coming from his mouth in a cartoon bubble.
Hmmm. As a first page, that’s pretty disturbing. Funny, yes. And, based on how I see his little brother treating him around the house, quite appropriate. But, disturbing nonetheless.
Page two: “Claire is my little sister. Sometimes she is a tattle tale.” Next to these words was a picture of a little girl saying “blah, blah, blah” in a cartoon bubble.
Again, appropriate. She is often a tattle tale. But page two? There were only two pages left. I was half way through and it was already looking pretty bleak in our little house on the corner.
Page three: “Mom sometimes gets frustrated.” I must admit I was a bit shocked at the picture of me, with a big, red head. An arrow pointed to my head said “Mal function!” and my cartoon bubble said, “Ahhhhh!”
Wow. Is the fire on? Did someone turn up the heat? How many people had seen this little book?
And then, as all things must do, the book came to an end.
Page four: “Dad does nothing.” Next to these words was a picture of my husband laying on the ground. His cartoon bubble said, “Must…do…nothing…”
I took a deep breath.
My son’s student teacher had placed a sticky note on the book with her comments. “Great pictures” she wrote.
Great pictures? I leafed through the pages, looking for the note telling me to meet her and the social worker in the principle’s office the next morning, but could not find it.
Then I began to feel uneasy. I mean–after all we do for our children? Yes–sitting in front of a laptop might look like his father is doing “nothing”, but “nothing” doesn’t buy karate lessons and Heely’s. Sure–I was frustrated–but that’s because I had to ask three kids separately to get their shoes on three times each. That’s 9 requests for shoes!
Uh…what I mean to say is: We are a loving, happy family! We spend quality time together. We have family outings, hikes, ski trips. We provide healthy food, warm clothes and educational activities for our kids. We have two big, lovable dogs and a fish. Yes…I admit…I gave the hermit crabs to the landscaper–but they were disgusting. You would have done the same thing.
My point is this: Regardless of how hard we try, our kids will see what they want based on their reality of that particular day. But eventually they will get older and, as I have done, will begin to realize all we did to give them a happy, healthy upbringing. And then maybe–just maybe–they will feel guilty for moments like these. One can only hope.
But I’m telling you this now: Each time something like this comes out of my son’s book bag, it will be one more picture of him naked in the bathtub or sleeping with his wubby on the big screen at his wedding rehearsal dinner.
I’ll put a sticky note on them that says, “great pictures!”
Published in The Broomfield Enterprise, 3/16/07 |
