My husband and I dote on our two children. We just can’t help ourselves. It’s like that commercial on television where the cafeteria server is just slapping mashed potatoes onto the serving plates. Then she eats one Dorito and is instantly inspired to create giant sculptures out of the mounds of potatoes- renditions of the Eiffel tower and the Thinker. We’re like that upon the summons of our children. We’ll be plodding along and hear the chirp of one of our darlings and we instantly spring to action with elaborate measures to meet their needs.
Our dinnertime is a prime example. We will fix roasted truffled chicken with Madeira dressing served with caramelized carrots and homemade rolls. Our children will eat the rolls if we butter them nicely. We then have to serve noodles with cheese, Ranch dressing and ketchup for them because they don’t like the meat or the onions in the dressing. Our nighttime rituals with them are also quite demanding. Our son must have the closet light and radio on before he will allow us to rock him and put him to bed. If my husband rocks and tucks-in first, he will be instructed by our son, as the first thing ever in the world he does after leaving the bedroom, to order me to come rock him next.
Often at bedtime we find our Queen Bee daughter in her bed propped up on pillows for a little night time reading before sleep. She will turn out the light as requested IF we retrieve fresh water for her bedside, raise the window for fresh air, scratch her back and close both doors to her bedroom.
Despite our overboard efforts at meeting our children’s needs I sometimes think we get a trifle short-changed on the return. Not that I’m overly sensitive, but I did have to snarl a bit when I reviewed their schoolwork Portfolio this weekend. There in the folder was the incriminating document for both of the children- a writing survey.
“Where do you do all your writing?” was the first question on the survey. Both children had answered, “At school” “Do your parents ever write?” was question 2. “No,” they had politely and simply answered. I vowed to sweetly point out to them that their daddy answers about 100 pieces of email a day and that I think that qualifies for a smattering of writing example.
Question 3, “Who is your favorite author?” I thought to myself, could it be A.A. Milne who we spent all summer loving as we read aloud about Winnie-the-Pooh? Could it be James Marshall who wrote all the George and Martha books we read together and laugh about? Could it be Dr. Seuss who we’ve read over and over and can recite by heart??? Of course not. Our son replied that in fact HE is his favorite author. Our daughter’s pick was my mother who is a writer. I love my mother and she is a fine writer, but I think both answers were a reflection of authors that the children happened to know personally and liked a lot on a personal level. That does narrow the field.
And then there was my favorite question, “What helps you the most with your writing?” I could imagine glowing answers like my family who reads what I write and gives me lots of encouragement OR my wonderful parents who inspire me to put my thoughts on paper OR my mom and dad who spend lots of money buying me cute paper and fancy pens so that I will be interested in writing. The real answers were these. My daughter’s writing inspiration comes from, and I quote, “Grace, my great teacher.” Our son’s writing, well his answer was “my pencil.”
I’m thinking next time they may just have to eat a bite or two of that Madeira dressing, onions or not.