What a wonderful story! Jessica is babysitting two boys today. We went to the craft basket trying to find things to amuse them, to make her day a little easier. We bought a bucket of sidewalk chalk and some modeling clay. "I don't know what boys like to do," she said. I thought about Adam and CT, the two alien boy creatures of my childhood. "We need things they can build, things that make noise, make a mess, or explode," I told her. I saw two balsa airplanes, flattened and hanging in the display. "Have you ever used these?" I asked. "No, what are they?" This is the one disadvantage of having an all-girl household. There are large swaths of playthings like footballs and firecrackers that have remained mysterious to my daughters. Imagining something as beautiful as "Taiwan, the fort city on stilts" is a stretch. Besides there are no dumps in our suburban neighborhood.
I bought the airplanes for Jessye to give to the boys. When she came home, she was exhausted. "I have new respect for mothers. This is a really hard job." I made her a chicken salad sandwich and let her in on a few secrets. "Get them outside running around all morning. The wilder, the better. Play indians, cops and robbers. Make them run. Then, around 12:30, feed them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with potato chips. All the carbohydrates will make them sleepy. Then you put on a movie, turn on a fan, and let them settle in for a couple hours of quiet time." As I told her, I realized that it had taken me years to perfect my survival strategies. Days can be excruciatingly long and lonely when everyone you talk to is three feet tall.
"They loved the planes. They flew them off the deck, chased them around the yard. They're really cool!"
"Did they hold up okay? One good crash and the balsa is in pieces."
"The rudder on Greggie's broke after a few flights but I took a piece of the scrap and made another one."
I thought about the fort Adam and CT built above the dump. Crafted out of the scraps from the house and garage, they'd created a city. Or the interactive theatrical experience in a damp basement (John Waters is jealous he didn't think of it first). I guess it's true that our family's gift is to be able to create something memorable out of little more than a block of wood with a couple of nails stuck in it.
I bought the airplanes for Jessye to give to the boys. When she came home, she was exhausted. "I have new respect for mothers. This is a really hard job." I made her a chicken salad sandwich and let her in on a few secrets. "Get them outside running around all morning. The wilder, the better. Play indians, cops and robbers. Make them run. Then, around 12:30, feed them peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with potato chips. All the carbohydrates will make them sleepy. Then you put on a movie, turn on a fan, and let them settle in for a couple hours of quiet time." As I told her, I realized that it had taken me years to perfect my survival strategies. Days can be excruciatingly long and lonely when everyone you talk to is three feet tall.
"They loved the planes. They flew them off the deck, chased them around the yard. They're really cool!"
"Did they hold up okay? One good crash and the balsa is in pieces."
"The rudder on Greggie's broke after a few flights but I took a piece of the scrap and made another one."
I thought about the fort Adam and CT built above the dump. Crafted out of the scraps from the house and garage, they'd created a city. Or the interactive theatrical experience in a damp basement (John Waters is jealous he didn't think of it first). I guess it's true that our family's gift is to be able to create something memorable out of little more than a block of wood with a couple of nails stuck in it.
posted by Jennifer at
12:00 PM
