How One Relates to the Other
Em is on the verge of another ear infection so I let him sleep in my bed tonight. How one relates to the other in that sentence I’ve not a clue, but there it is just the same. I could tell last night he wasn’t quite right. Emotional. Belligerent. Just difficult in general. I knew he wasn’t due to start his period, so quick as a Kroger cashier, I deduced he was having ear trouble. He told me tonight on his own that his ear “hurt a little.” So, for now, it’s Children’s Motrin, ear drops at the ready, Daddy’s bed, and wait and see. He’s a good Boy. I don’t like seeing him uncomfortable. So I have simply stopped looking at him. It pisses him off a little, but I figure it is never too early for life’s lessons. I’m not certain which lesson this is, but rest assured it’s a good one. A real character-builder. Because of it, I expect his ACT scores to be through the roof. By the time he is 17, Stanford will be down here with offers of a free ride, cognac, and sexual favors. “To what do you attribute this early success, Mr. Em?” His reply, surely: “Well, when I was little, Daddy ignored me until I nearly fell deaf. That was a turning point for me, I think.” He’s such a modest Boy.
On a serious note, Emerson was washing his hands the other night after going potty. Since I figure at least one of us should follow this ridiculous rule of good hygiene, I was monitoring. Perched confidently on his step stool he began to lather his hands when like a feeding trout, the soap leapt from his grip and landed safely in the sink.*
“Goddammit,” muttered the four year old version of me, as matter-of-factly and perfectly placed as an old pro. In the three-second pause of recognition that followed, a cartoon “thought balloon” formed over his head. As he turned his wide innocent eyes to meet my own, the thought balloon populated itself with “Awww Fuck! Daddy is right here.”
This is not the first “Goddamn” incident we’ve had. I have written about some of them here. But it is the first in a very long time. Em understands it is not proper for young gentlemen of a certain age—oh, let’s say FOUR!!!—to use words like Goddamn. It is a touch vulgar. Unrefined. Tacky. Unnecessary. And an absolutely delightful manner in which to vent frustration.
But there are expectations of behavior and I do subscribe to a few of them. That a four-year-old child should not routinely say Goddamn is certainly one of them. Where the little fucker gets it, I just don’t know. But you can bet I will monitor his friends and telephone conversations more closely now. And quite possibly, I will confront the actual source—his Daddy—and be more mindful that an unintentional “Do as I say, not as I do” approach may not be the most sound in terms of child development. I am lucky that “Goddamn” is the worst I’ve had parroted back. Perhaps the Boy could benefit from a better example? Well, perhaps a more mindful one. Perhaps…
Though attempting to mimic holidays past, this Christmas will be different. It doesn’t feel different but it is. We’ll need to forge new traditions that will build memories. The holidays—with the exception of New Years—are not important to me. But I would like them to be so for the Boy. The tradition of non-tradition may be the way to go. It is my preference. Em is an adaptable Boy to be sure. A deep-thinking, sensitive, adaptable Boy. I cannot protect him from everything—nor should I. But I would prefer to spare him insincerity. It can be such a hurtful thing. And unnecessary.
And similar things are on my mind of late. Em has had some pretty mature and consistent God questions. I have been able to offer answers based on my extremely limited formal religious knowledge and my equally sincere belief system—but he deserves more. I have decided to look into services and/or Sunday school at the church where he was christened. I like the church, I do. But I have long been so actively disgusted by organized religion that I have the slightest hesitation. I will blink it away for now as I want Emerson afforded the experience. Hopefully, until he is old enough to decide for himself. I owe him the opportunity. And I do believe he is wise enough to discern true spirituality from phony, money-making bullshit. My God is o.k. with me not attending church. But he also told me he would be just fine with Emerson dropping by for some answers.
He also told me to ask Em not to say Goddamn anymore.
Seems fair enough.
*I will never not love mixed metaphors
On a serious note, Emerson was washing his hands the other night after going potty. Since I figure at least one of us should follow this ridiculous rule of good hygiene, I was monitoring. Perched confidently on his step stool he began to lather his hands when like a feeding trout, the soap leapt from his grip and landed safely in the sink.*
“Goddammit,” muttered the four year old version of me, as matter-of-factly and perfectly placed as an old pro. In the three-second pause of recognition that followed, a cartoon “thought balloon” formed over his head. As he turned his wide innocent eyes to meet my own, the thought balloon populated itself with “Awww Fuck! Daddy is right here.”
This is not the first “Goddamn” incident we’ve had. I have written about some of them here. But it is the first in a very long time. Em understands it is not proper for young gentlemen of a certain age—oh, let’s say FOUR!!!—to use words like Goddamn. It is a touch vulgar. Unrefined. Tacky. Unnecessary. And an absolutely delightful manner in which to vent frustration.
But there are expectations of behavior and I do subscribe to a few of them. That a four-year-old child should not routinely say Goddamn is certainly one of them. Where the little fucker gets it, I just don’t know. But you can bet I will monitor his friends and telephone conversations more closely now. And quite possibly, I will confront the actual source—his Daddy—and be more mindful that an unintentional “Do as I say, not as I do” approach may not be the most sound in terms of child development. I am lucky that “Goddamn” is the worst I’ve had parroted back. Perhaps the Boy could benefit from a better example? Well, perhaps a more mindful one. Perhaps…
Though attempting to mimic holidays past, this Christmas will be different. It doesn’t feel different but it is. We’ll need to forge new traditions that will build memories. The holidays—with the exception of New Years—are not important to me. But I would like them to be so for the Boy. The tradition of non-tradition may be the way to go. It is my preference. Em is an adaptable Boy to be sure. A deep-thinking, sensitive, adaptable Boy. I cannot protect him from everything—nor should I. But I would prefer to spare him insincerity. It can be such a hurtful thing. And unnecessary.
And similar things are on my mind of late. Em has had some pretty mature and consistent God questions. I have been able to offer answers based on my extremely limited formal religious knowledge and my equally sincere belief system—but he deserves more. I have decided to look into services and/or Sunday school at the church where he was christened. I like the church, I do. But I have long been so actively disgusted by organized religion that I have the slightest hesitation. I will blink it away for now as I want Emerson afforded the experience. Hopefully, until he is old enough to decide for himself. I owe him the opportunity. And I do believe he is wise enough to discern true spirituality from phony, money-making bullshit. My God is o.k. with me not attending church. But he also told me he would be just fine with Emerson dropping by for some answers.
He also told me to ask Em not to say Goddamn anymore.
Seems fair enough.
*I will never not love mixed metaphors
posted by Ryan at 12:15 AM
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