"We are trapped in a way of life that is suffocating everything noble and wise in us." Eknath Easwaran
Showing posts with label lessons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lessons. Show all posts
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Learning Lessons--in your face
We all have lessons to learn in life and one that Shaun sometimes has a tough time with is admitting when he might, possibly, could be...wrong. This is likely my own incorrect perception; afterall, years ago he humbly informed me that he would be happy to admit he was wrong, just as soon as he was. Seriously. Thank goodness he and I alike have lightened up on that whole thing, though my mouth is still agape in disbelief that he ever said it; mostly, I find it pretty humorous these days.
The routine in our home in the evening is that I make dinner while Nathan either helps me, plays, or, if he is lucky, watches television--he loves television. Until now, I have been fortunate enough not to know thoroughly those persons that truly don't hear you when you call to them while they watch, uh, pretty much, anything on tv. Interesting that it bewilders me more than frustrates me, making it so much easier to simply turn the thing off when he doesn't respond.
After dinner Shaun does the dishes and turns on the dishwasher. Often, Nathan wants to help with this activity as well. On this particular evening, Nathan decided to get out the dish detergent and found alongside it, a sample product that had been in that cupboard for some time. He and I had had the conversation more than once about what the product was, our need for it (or lack thereof) and where it was to be deposited in the dishwasher, et cetera. As Nathan went about the process of getting this product out and then attempting to put it in the dishwasher appropriately, Shaun was telling him all the while that we didn't need anymore soap, that that is not where we put it in the machine, etc, etc...
Shaun and I try to be respectful and not contradict one another to Nathan and generally we do pretty well; on this night I found it difficult to get a word in edgewise. When I did find an opening, I gently suggested to Shaun that he might want to look more closely at the product and what Nathan was trying to do with it before he continued to tell him what he was doing was incorrect. Upon doing so, Shaun acknowledged his error out loud, apologized and we all went about finishing up the evening kitchen clean up. In his need to sum things up, Nathan offered the familiar pretense: "I know what the problem is Daddy," and the conclusion, "You're just not really smart."
There was genuine laughter and Shaun said what we were both thinking, "You're doing wonders for my ability to admit I'm wrong, kid!"
The lessons served up by innocent four year olds are so much sweeter and easier to swallow, aren't they? I hope the little one is learning half the lessons I am.
The routine in our home in the evening is that I make dinner while Nathan either helps me, plays, or, if he is lucky, watches television--he loves television. Until now, I have been fortunate enough not to know thoroughly those persons that truly don't hear you when you call to them while they watch, uh, pretty much, anything on tv. Interesting that it bewilders me more than frustrates me, making it so much easier to simply turn the thing off when he doesn't respond.
After dinner Shaun does the dishes and turns on the dishwasher. Often, Nathan wants to help with this activity as well. On this particular evening, Nathan decided to get out the dish detergent and found alongside it, a sample product that had been in that cupboard for some time. He and I had had the conversation more than once about what the product was, our need for it (or lack thereof) and where it was to be deposited in the dishwasher, et cetera. As Nathan went about the process of getting this product out and then attempting to put it in the dishwasher appropriately, Shaun was telling him all the while that we didn't need anymore soap, that that is not where we put it in the machine, etc, etc...
Shaun and I try to be respectful and not contradict one another to Nathan and generally we do pretty well; on this night I found it difficult to get a word in edgewise. When I did find an opening, I gently suggested to Shaun that he might want to look more closely at the product and what Nathan was trying to do with it before he continued to tell him what he was doing was incorrect. Upon doing so, Shaun acknowledged his error out loud, apologized and we all went about finishing up the evening kitchen clean up. In his need to sum things up, Nathan offered the familiar pretense: "I know what the problem is Daddy," and the conclusion, "You're just not really smart."
There was genuine laughter and Shaun said what we were both thinking, "You're doing wonders for my ability to admit I'm wrong, kid!"
The lessons served up by innocent four year olds are so much sweeter and easier to swallow, aren't they? I hope the little one is learning half the lessons I am.
Coffee Talk
I'm not sure if Auntie T has enlisted Nathan in her Master's project, or if perhaps Auntie C has taken him to one too many hippie organic corner markets; where, by the way, M has determined that they carry a lot of snack foods for the hippie munchies....Hmmm....I digress....anyway, there's a new running conversation around here and I thought I would share.
Most meals these days are met with lots of questions as to the origins of the food on my boy's plate. This seems to have started when Nathan recently asked to have a ham and cheese sandwich to take to school for lunch. I avoided the Jewish take on that question, mostly 'cause I don't know the answer for sure and lord knows there is a premium on correctness 'round these parts; otherwise there will be twice the questions and twice my own confusion when the truth is uncovered. Anyway, I went the vegetarian route; "you may not have ham at school because at school we follow a vegetarian diet". I could only hope to go on about my business of the morning, but, nope, naturally, I was met with, "what means vegetarian?" (in a 4 year old's pronunciation which I cannot begin duplicate.) I was only two sips into my coffee and I knew where this was going and the panic (my own) was setting in. He is a sensitive soul and a thorough thinker. We don't do Disney, skipping a scene or two here and there doesn't cut it for this kid. We are reading Charlotte's Web as an exercise for me to get more comfortable with the whole death thing with him. I feel queasy just thinking about it and am inclined to become a vegetarian myself after all of this.
I try to circle the question, "being vegetarian means not eating meat", we don't really use that term, instead choosing more specific labels for our animal intake, so naturally the next logical question, "what means meat?" I take a deep breath, "meat refers to animals like chicken, fish, and cows." I am impressed with my own resourcefulness and quickly retrieve the puzzle Grandma brought from France that clearly shows the food chain in perfectly natural form, albeit much lower on the food chain, nonetheless the point is made. "Why don't they (vegetarians) eat animals?" "Because vegetarians don't think it is nice to have animals for food." I am terrified to use the word kill and clearly I have been successful in avoiding it. This conversation continued as I tried to overcompensate around the whole issue. We discussed the business of a farm and the animals there, not soon enough I decided it was time to shut my trap. Nathan proceeded with eating his breakfast giving the matter a little more thought, eventually: "Mommy, don't they miss them when they dead them?"
xoxo
s
ps lately as he contemplates his meals, he asks, "what did this used to be?" As in, what animal was my cereal, pasta, bread; basically anything he's not sure of, he wants clarified. He has even let S know that it's not nice to eat plants either, they are, after all living things too ya know. Also, if you are interested, Nathan thinks it would be very nice to have a pet cow so he could have milk whenever he wanted. Never mind the conversation about where and how the cow gets milk, my head had exploded by that point.
Most meals these days are met with lots of questions as to the origins of the food on my boy's plate. This seems to have started when Nathan recently asked to have a ham and cheese sandwich to take to school for lunch. I avoided the Jewish take on that question, mostly 'cause I don't know the answer for sure and lord knows there is a premium on correctness 'round these parts; otherwise there will be twice the questions and twice my own confusion when the truth is uncovered. Anyway, I went the vegetarian route; "you may not have ham at school because at school we follow a vegetarian diet". I could only hope to go on about my business of the morning, but, nope, naturally, I was met with, "what means vegetarian?" (in a 4 year old's pronunciation which I cannot begin duplicate.) I was only two sips into my coffee and I knew where this was going and the panic (my own) was setting in. He is a sensitive soul and a thorough thinker. We don't do Disney, skipping a scene or two here and there doesn't cut it for this kid. We are reading Charlotte's Web as an exercise for me to get more comfortable with the whole death thing with him. I feel queasy just thinking about it and am inclined to become a vegetarian myself after all of this.
I try to circle the question, "being vegetarian means not eating meat", we don't really use that term, instead choosing more specific labels for our animal intake, so naturally the next logical question, "what means meat?" I take a deep breath, "meat refers to animals like chicken, fish, and cows." I am impressed with my own resourcefulness and quickly retrieve the puzzle Grandma brought from France that clearly shows the food chain in perfectly natural form, albeit much lower on the food chain, nonetheless the point is made. "Why don't they (vegetarians) eat animals?" "Because vegetarians don't think it is nice to have animals for food." I am terrified to use the word kill and clearly I have been successful in avoiding it. This conversation continued as I tried to overcompensate around the whole issue. We discussed the business of a farm and the animals there, not soon enough I decided it was time to shut my trap. Nathan proceeded with eating his breakfast giving the matter a little more thought, eventually: "Mommy, don't they miss them when they dead them?"
xoxo
s
ps lately as he contemplates his meals, he asks, "what did this used to be?" As in, what animal was my cereal, pasta, bread; basically anything he's not sure of, he wants clarified. He has even let S know that it's not nice to eat plants either, they are, after all living things too ya know. Also, if you are interested, Nathan thinks it would be very nice to have a pet cow so he could have milk whenever he wanted. Never mind the conversation about where and how the cow gets milk, my head had exploded by that point.
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