We are standing at our kitchen island eating cheeseburgers and french fries from the land of the giant, glowing letter M. Big Strong Man had returned just moments earlier with the two year old who is covered in mosquito bites and had just visited his friend, our pediatrician, as he was in the process of recovering from a four day hiatus of his typical, energized self. The passing of a cold and a new ear infection, we learn. Pink medicine tasting of bubble gum, same as I tasted all those years ago when I was a child.
Dr. said that she is glad that Zeplin is beginning school this year. She says that is will be good for him in so many ways.
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| *Making the Grade* |
We really enjoy our pediatrician. She is fun and interacts with the boys. She is always telling them that they are doing great jobs when they pick up the multiple papers I brought along and they have scattered on the floor in hop to this one, and now this one, fashion. Again when they listen to her the first time she asks them to stop pulling on the paper blanket attached to the bed. And also when they shuffle out of the way when it is brother's turn and eagerly jump up when it is their turn. Good job.
She says this with her Russian accent, which is undeniably gorgeous and -shallow as it is- one of my favorite things about her. Doctor sounds a bit like Gru.
My boys love Despicable Me >I love Steve Carroll >Big Strong Man and I loved The Office >Steve Carroll was in The Office and Despicable Me >the latter of which our boys love. Big Strong Man and I love our boys >who love Gru >Gru sounds like their pediatrician >and so we love her as well. Really, we have no choice.
When I was a freshman at LIFE East Bible College, I remember vividly taking Psychology that year and learning that God is love and love is blind. Stevie Wonder is blind and so, naturally, Stevie Wonder is god. Not really, I know that, but this mumbo-jumbo somehow all makes little sense while it simultaneously makes loads of sense.
This is how it looks in my mind:
Although we do not take everything she, nor our own doctors and specialist say, as gospel, there is a giddy satisfaction of being on the same page and gloating like a child. (You may wish to read/reread these posts for some examples. To Spank or Not to Spank? (With Addition) and Bell's (Palsy) and Alternative Medicine (Elderberry Syrup) )
As parents, we have learned that what is good for the goose is not always good for the gander. (Unless we are talking about meals at our home, in which case, what's good for Momma goose -who makes most meals- is good for the gander. We do not do "your way, right away" at our home.) People, families, and children learn and believe different. This is why we lie to our sons.
We lie to our sons when we tell them that there is medicine in our kisses. That bruised knee? That upset belly? Kisses from parents who love them. Are you feeling better yet?, and, like magic, that invisible medicine heals!
We send balloons flying into the sky on occasions such as birthdays of friends and family who have passed away. And Christmas, which is Jesus' birthday, and Easter, which is His resurrection, always get one excited balloon per child up, up, and away. We send them to Heaven. Although they may make it to Heaven, only God knows, they likely do not and so, we lie.
One of my favorite lies -yes, I said that!- was when baby boy number three was growing in my belly. It was undeniable to my two older sons, then just 31 and 18 months, that something was different about me. They loved to touch my belly. On occasion I would lie on the floor and they would take turns talking and singing to baby Blueberry, as Thatcher was so lovingly nicknamed before we knew we were having a Thatcher and not an Emmaline. If you sing into my belly button, baby can hear you, I would tell them, and then smile to myself as their lips practically touched my protruding navel and they sang songs about stars and animals.
I doubt Dr. N. would approve of this behavior, the lying, that is.
If you ask me though, I would say that there is something magical about sharing stories and making memories with those we love. It is fun and adventurous to exaggerate the truth- for the imagination of the child. As a parent who is not hurting my child by living these memories with my three incredible sons, I would give Big Strong Man and I a golden A+ for heart.
...And besides, I doubt the boys will still think our kisses have magic in them by the time they graduate high school....
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