My Kids
I know that this is the week that all bloggers are supposed to write about their years in review or else their new year’s resolutions, but right now I feel like writing about my kids. We were listening to the local Storytellers’ Guild on the car radio today. The slow, inane voices of the storytellers prompted many MST3K-esque comments from my kids, and they’ve now prompted this entry.
My kids, fortunately for me, are very, very smart. They’re smart as hell, those three little boys. When we’re alone together, we talk about lots of things. The older they get, the more I’m able to enjoy conversing with them because they’re developing such good senses of humor and sharp powers of observation. On the two weekends per month when I retrieve them from visitation with their dad and we drive back home for three hours, we talk our brains out. We like to make up little question games. Meaning, we take turns answering questions like, “If you could buy Grandma anything in the world, what would you buy her?” and “If you had to change your name to something else, what would you change it to?” and “If you had to kiss either Lindsay Lohan or Britney Spears, which one would you kiss?” (They all said Lindsay Lohan.) So… my point is made. I enjoy my kids’ conversation. I won’t start listing all the clever/witty things they’ve said this week alone – it would take too long.
When I was a child, my paternal grandmother lived with us and subscribed to the theory that children should be seen and not heard. (This dovetailed with her other theories regarding spanking children with sticks.) In the ywenty-one years since her death, I’ve met many, many other people who also believe that children aren’t worth listening to. The funny thing is that most of these people don’t even seem to realize that they believe that.
I spend a lot of time training my children not to interrupt others. This is me, constantly: “Excuse me, Josh – Rory was saying something” and “Hold on, Rory. I can’t hear you because I’m still listening to Dallas.” This is undermined every time one of my children is talking to me and an adult interrupts him.
Sometimes I’ll gently admonish the adult in the same way that I’d do my kids, but usually I don’t, because the adult is so completely oblivious and well-meaning. It used to be that, whenever this happened, I’d apologize to my kids afterwards and explain to them that some adults just don’t notice children’s voices. Now, however, I no longer have to explain. My kids are totally used to adults doing that to them, in the same way that they’re used to adults speaking to them in patronizing sing-song voices. In fact, we’ve gotten to the point where my kids make amusing faces of mock indignation or exaggerated put-upon weariness when adults interrupt them. And I refrain from laughing until those adults are gone.
I’m not saying that everyone in the world owes it to me to endure talking to kids. Believe me, I know that not all children are clever. Because, unfortunately, a lot of adults aren’t, either. And I hate suffering the conversation of idiots as much as anyone else. But I do it when politeness dictates that I must. And I treat other’s people’s children, clever or not, with the same courtesy that I treat adults. Clever or not.
All I’m really saying here is that, when you’re rude to my kids, we make fun of you behind your back. So, don’t even stop doing it if you don’t want to. We’re always looking for something else to make us laugh.
Let me give thanks here to all my friends and family members (and to the strangers) who treat my kids like normal human beings. Believe me – they notice, and they appreciate it.
