Sugar and Snails

The differences between boys and girls is interesting.

I realize that environment plays a role in how children behave but I also believe that some things are innate. Boys are wired differently than girls. Snakes and snails ... Sugar and Spice ... The mixtures of simple and preferred pleasures both genders bring into their environment. It is a genetic code of possibilities.

Today I chatted with Callie and Donovan's teacher, the famous Mrs. Oh. (Yes, that really is her name.) How they love her. Mrs. Oh is the beginning of a constant phrase in our house, as in ... "Mrs. Oh said" or "Mrs. Oh did". She is as popular as the also much beloved, Mrs. Laura. Forever will they have a piece of my children's hearts.

Mrs. Oh said a lot of things. Some were insightful and most were apparent to me ... their ragamuffin mother. (Next to Mrs. Oh and Mrs. Laura, Mom is just "Oh, mom")

"Donovan is very high on censorial, problem solving, and mathematics concepts. Fixing puzzles and building with anything is something he consistently gravitates towards. He takes pride in his work and likes to show it off to the grown-ups."

I nod and smile. You see, I may just be "Oh, mom" but I really adore hearing teachers sing my son's praises. For as long as I've known him I've thought him pretty spectacular. Hearing someone else say it echoes my thoughts exactly.

"Callie always has a smile. Such a cute girl. Independent, high on language skills, loves living skills too. Pretending to cook and mother is something she really enjoys."

All lovely things I've known. When Callie was crawling she'd follow me around with a tissue and try to clean the floor. Seriously! Making up songs and sharing schoolhouse gossip is also routine. I am so delighted at the precious person she is constantly becoming .... I see a little of me, a dab of my husband, and a whole lot of Callie mixed up in her expressive face and inquisitive brown eyes.

"Boys are usually better at spatial, censorial, and mathematical concepts. Especially at this age. While girls are often high scorers in language and living skills. I would say they are doing academically what we see across the board."

Maybe so. I know personally I could talk or write for days and never grow bored. Brett on the other hand loves to apply restrictive mathematical concepts to daily routine. It seems like Callie and Donovan are shadowing their parents ... be it genetically, environmentally, or a mixture of both. Either way I think all of my children are incredibly interesting individuals.

Whenever I think about my 25 week babies first days, I am in awe of the industrious children they have become. Imagine babies born barely a pound who are are getting academic applause from their teachers. This is a new thing. Before now their academic future was talked about with gloomy words. Today everyone is thinking about the possiblities.

A Gaggle of Giggles

Benjamin is proud of being funny. At school he is known for his silly antics. He delights in reflected smiles and shared jokes.

Knock-knock jokes, body noises, slimy worms, and finger paint are all funny. Seriously. Each category has enormous potential for contagious giggling amongst my kids.

Benjamin is combustible. People expect him to be entertaining. He's known for it. Each day he's done at at least one thing that caused explosive laughter.

If you are the analytical type you can track his laugh appeal on a calendar. He's been with us for four years and I swear a day has not passed when he failed to make someone laugh. Everywhere he goes he brings his nature and it is natural for him to smile.

Belly laughing is his favorite thing. It brings me such joy to hear him ask Brett for tickles. When tickles are given he sounds off uncontrollable laughter. Seeing him enjoy a moment with daddy so completely is a wonder to behold.

Most of us only aspire to live so completely in a moment. Benjamin does this in a care free way several times each day. An opportunity to express himself is never passed by. He is who he is and people love him for it.

He may be the class "Class Clown" but so be it. Laughter is a moment he seizes and it makes the world a more comforting place for others. His silliness is a gift. One day I hope he knows it.

Carousel

Callie chooses a tiger to ride. “Look at me, I’m on the carousal!”

She waves one hand and bobs her pigtails. “Hey, boys! What are you riding?”

Donovan and Benjamin are chatting with heads close together. They sit on a peacock bench next to Brett. Donovan peeks over at Callie but offers no response.

“Hey, boys? Look at me!” She waves both hands in the air and bounces on her tiger.

I remind her with a wink. “Callie, you have to sit still with both hands on the pole.”

“You stand there. Take your hands off my pole. Please. I want to ride by myself.” Callie plucks my fingers from her waist.

Doubtfully I look at her tiny frame on the giant tiger. “What if you fall?”

“I won’t fall.”

“But what if you do?”

“I won’t.”

“Okay.” I slowly let go.

The music turns on and the announcer says, “Welcome to the Endangered Species Carousel. Stay on your ride at all times. Do not switch animals. Hold onto the pole. When the bell rings twice this means the ride is starting. Enjoy.”

Brring. Brrring.

The carousel begins turning to the Banana Boat (Day Oh) Song.

Come Mr. Tallyman, tally me bananas!
Daylight come and I want to go home.

Smiling, Callie waves to strangers who wave to their children. “This is great! Got my zebra, Mom?”

I look down at her toy zebra. She’ll soon forget about it. Another cheap piece of plastic to bring home. “Yes, silly monkey. I have your zebra.”

“Silly monkey? I’m not a silly monkey.”

“You’re not? Are you a silly goose?”

Giggling she bounces around while still holding onto the pole. “You bet I’m a silly goose.”

“Okay silly goose … the ride is slowing down. Wait for both bells before jumping into my arms.”

“Jumping like a silly rabbit.”

I laugh. “More likely tackling me like a silly Callie.”

“Yeah.”

Brring. Brrring.

The next time they rode the carousel .... everyone rode their own animal.

An Apple a Day

Grocery shopping on Sunday I pass through produce. An assortment of crisp apples cause me pause. Their strong smell fills my senses with nostalgia.

I remember being four years old and playing beneath apple trees in Montana. Beautiful blossoms prettily covered limbs in spring. Summer produced perfectly round apples.

In the basement there was an apple cellar. I loved hearing the creaky door hinges open to reveal this secret room. Previous owners used its shelves to store crates of apples. My parents used it to preserve our outgrown toys.

Inside the air was stale with the overpowering smell of apples. The smell marked their lifespan. Green apples, ready to eat apples, maturing apples, mushy apples, and rotten apples.

At the grocery store I stood in front of the assorted apples and followed my nose to an overflowing crate. Closing my eyes I picked up just one and heavily breathed in its scent. A picture of me, very small, with an apple appliqué on my blue overalls flashed behind my eyes. Another snapshot of my dolls Peanut Butter and Jelly was recaptured. A flickering image of my brother and me playing the game Button- Button with mom was remembered.

Still, there was a stronger feeling; an overwhelmingly perfect feeling that came from the scent of an apple. I remembered how safe and loved I felt as a little girl, an eldest child, inside my family. My identical twin sisters were not yet born but I understood there was plenty of room for all of us.

Apples remind me of my family and of being a small child. At age four I saved these crisp memories inside an apple. Not just any apple, but apples that smell like that special scent I savored as a child.

I bundled a half dozen of these round memory triggers into a plastic bag. Once home I placed the bag onto the counter and bent down to Benjamin’s level.

“What do you smell?” I place an apple beneath his nose.

Smiling he presses it closer, “A good apple.”

Ruffling his hair I slice the apple and place them in a bowl. “Here you go.”

He runs off with his snack and I watch him with wonder. What smells will he associate with being young? Will he remember antiseptic hospital smells with fear or will a safe, happy smell prevail?

Biting into an apple piece I am hopeful that he’ll always remember the smell of apples and not the smell of fear or grief. Hopefully he is locking happy memories into places he’ll one day happen across …. Like in a grocery store. He’ll unlock memories that will bring him comfort and peace.