Cinder: Mom? Can I go outside with a wrench? One of those really, really big ones? Or a crowbar?
Good to know: He knows where they are. He could just grab one. He’s asking to be told, ‘No.’
Cinder: How about if I promise not to wield it as a weapon?
Jane: Um… No.
Cinder: Moooom! I promise, absolutely promise I will not bludgeon the girls with it.
Jane: If you tell me I never let you do anything, I just might bludgeon you with it.
Cinder: Fine. Will you bake cookies?
Jane: Um… how about we bike over to Safeway and buy a box of Peak Freens?
What I’ve learned over the last 11 years of listening to Cinder: It’s really, really hard to say, “Mom, I’m feeling really left out of the game Flora and her friends are playing.” Much easier to say/do something that annoys the girls and requires an active Mother-intervention. Like chasing them with a wrench.
Always listen for the subtext. Even when you–like me–are inclined to take what is said as what is meant. Always. Subtext.
From my newsfeed this am: My son wears dresses, get over it, by the brilliant Matt Duron.
From my archives: My sons don’t wear dresses anymore–or should I say right now, but they did; to wit: The return of the Princess dress.
Post of the week from my reader: Act Your Age? on the Tao of Poop. “Playdough has similar soothing properties to a glass of wine or Prozac,” she writes. And then just gets better.