Wednesday, January 26, 2011

We'll Get That In A To-Go Box

You know when a kid says something and you can't decide if it's funny or cute, or actually kind of profound? Some kid-utterances just need to be recorded.

(It started like this [Achtung: sappiness alert!]: "No matter what happens, I will always love you sooooo much." G replied smugly that, no, I can't love her when I'm dead; to which I responded [unconvincingly, as  you will see] that my heart probably could still love her even if I'm in heaven.)

Turns out Li'l G doesn't believe in heaven anyway. At least, not in the form that we usually sell kids - and that I, too, tend to proffer sheerly out of unwillingness to plunge her unsullied imagination prematurely into my kind of anything's-possible, pragmatic darkness.

This, says My Girl, is heaven: A wooden box and everyone's in it leaning against the walls, and God's there shining a light. God's the only one walking around. (She was too tired to tell me how the people feel about this.)

And she adds, with that 'isn't-that-so-naive-and-sweet' tone we grown-ups sometimes use when discussing kids, "And you think Grandpa's up on a cloud looking down at us!" 

What do you think... (and I'm not trying to sound like Green Eggs and Ham here)... will we end up in the clouds? In a box? What do/ would you tell your tykes? Is there a cut-off age when you consider them less in need of hearing shiny-happy versions of things, or do you give it straight from the git-go?

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

My Magnum Nope-us, or, Can't I Please Just Have Morphine?

I am bursting with - if not unfulfilled potential - then with unwritten blog posts.

One reason is that recently, I broke my right arm. It's not the worst thing in the world, not a bit. I don't even have a cast, just a sling and some woefully inadequate pain meds. But it definitely cramps one's style(enjoyment/pain threshold) when it comes to typing. (Many of you are already aware of the fracture, due to my persistent belief in the restorative powers of whining to anyone who will listen/read my FB status updates. I love you, people.)

Another reason is that I had the best visitor I could wish for, on a long, long visit. As someone who previously was alone most nights*, I had not appreciated the following fact: It turns out that people actually get annoyed when one allocates that which should be face-time to screen-time. Understandable. But not conducive to blogging.
(*This was not intended to seem as pathetic as I think it may sound.)

Now, after a long delay and a huge buildup of words bucking at my fingertips, straining for their turn to hammer the keyboard, I feel that nothing less than a magnum opus of a blog post is due. But that is procrastinator talk, my friends; not to mention hoplessly delusional.

So I'm just going with a micropost for now. The main thrust: the confounding co-existence in this world of unfathomably sweet goodness alongside the wretchingly bad. (I can't claim these are original thoughts; but my thoughts they are, often.)

Today, I sent up a signal (in the Internet) for help for my friend with the (wretchingly bad) cancer situation. Right away, people were volunteering, and choking me up with their powerfully kind words and exceeding generosity. When considering these acts, my heart swells and lifts me like a hot-air balloon to float far above all the sadnesses.

Then I got a letter from Li'l G's primary school. A predator-man (a type which Li'l G knows of academically as "a bad apple") has been approaching children on the playground at a neighboring school and trying to lure them into his car. The school reports that the children all wisely refused.

It sounds like Nothing happened, nor is likely to - not even to a self-assured six-year-old who is sooooo sure she can walk home from school by herself (ca. 10 city blocks!). It's just that it's a little revolting to consider this rotten apple with his hideous evil hellcar stalking the school recess yard. Enough said.

[Faintly tangentially, the school also reported that "the police are watching the schools and the neighborhood closely." .... Fleetingly, I started to regret our semi-urban surroundings. (It's crucial to note that this is "urban" by Swissy standards, not U.S. or international ones!) It's saddening if your child's- any child's - schools need to be staked out by the cops. On the other hand... perhaps in a more idyllic, non-city environment, predator types might be so unexpected that they might more likely go unnoticed (until it's too late)?]