Thursday, July 8, 2010

Stranger danger

Dear Nate,

We're in the middle of a brutal heat-wave, and right now I'm sitting the cool air-conditioning at the public library in Rockville. You and Jack are visiting with Grandma, and I'm taking the opportunity to try to catch up on the 27 blog entries rolling around in my head.

In the time since I last really posted about you, we've gone through a lot! If I'd been keeping up, this would be a nice manageable entry about how INSANE you are these days. But I've slacked, so we'll have to journey through "you're amazing and so is our relationship" before we come out on the other side.

I'm sure I'm colored by the blinders of parenthood, but I think you are so smart and so insightful. A few days ago we got ice cream from the ice cream truck and were sitting on the front steps eating it. I decided I felt comfortable enough leaving you sitting out there while I went inside for some napkins, but that meant it was time for a little more extensive "talk." We've had the "nobody can touch your private parts except for..." talk several times. But leaving you alone outside meant it was time for the "If anyone tries to take you anywhere..." talk.

I asked you what you should do if anyone tried to take you anywhere, and you said "ask Mommy first" which is a pretty decent understanding. But I had to press: what if someone tried to take you anyway, what if someone tried to steal you. You weren't sure what to say; you just shrugged. I told you that if anyone ever tried to take you somewhere, you should yell. You should yell "You're not my Daddy / Mommy" and you should fight. You should hit, and kick, and scream, and do everything you could to get away from them.

Your jaw positively dropped. I spend most of the day explaining to Jack, and occasionally to you, why you don't ever hit. And now I'm telling you to hit and kick? You were thrilled, and a little horrified by how monumental this conversation had obviously become. You asked a lot of questions, and we talked for a long time, and I tried to reassure you but to keep the central point stressed: never let anyone take you anywhere.

A few days later, I brought it up again to see if you'd absorbed anything from the talk. I asked you what you should do if someone tried to take you somewhere. You paused for a long time, and then you said this exact sentence: "You give away your niceness. You use your meanness."

Oh child.

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Little people

I just looked in on napping Jack, still in the exact same position in the crib as when I laid him there after a long morning of errands. Except that he'd pulled his blue blanket up over his legs. That kills me.