Sunday, March 16, 2008

To My Grandma

Grandma, I am glad that someone is reading my blog, and I'm even gladder that it is you! I thought about you last night. I watched a show with Dean in which there is a character whose name is Boone. And I remembered that little story you shared with Maura and I about that name and how you feel about it. I can remember you saying that name with feeling. Did you like that story about your grand daughter? Where does she get these notions? The only thing I can think of-the Schofields. In particular, her Grandpa Schofield. Because she sure didn't get it from me or Dean, or you.

To Brow or Not to Brow, that is the question...

The other day, Kaelyn started talking to me and as I was looking at her, I noticed that something just didn't look right, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I shrugged it off and went back to my work. A little later, I heard Kaelyn brag to Mary that she had gotten rid of her EYEBROWS! Mary asked her if she shaved them off, "No, I cut them off, eyebrows are stupid." (Is anyone thinking Calvin, right now? I should never have let her read those comic strips!) Mary started to tattle and I noted that I had thought there was something different about Kaelyn.
That afternoon, Kaelyn bragged to her friends about getting rid of her eyebrows. I think someone said something derogatory under their breath, something about freak and monster. I don't know who did it. It was unkind, cruel, the opposite of what Elaine Faber or Haim Ginnott would do. And Kaelyn must have taken it to heart.
She asked me that afternoon, if it took very long for eyebrows to grow back. I explained that hair took a few weeks to grow. She wondered if it would be back on Sunday. Apparently she was concerned about the boys at church making fun of her. She never thinks about that until it is too late. I had to let her down, I told her that they would not be back before Sunday. She was crestfallen. I was sad for her, but what could I do?
I went about my work. I did my data entry, and in between computer functions, I would grab the vacuum and go over my rug, then pick up and put away, then I vacuumed the other rug. I came back from a trip to the bedroom and something caught my eye on the clean rug. There, on the rug, was a one inch lock of blond hair. I know of only one other person who has that hair color!
"Kaelyn," I hollered, as I strode to the school-room,"Why is there a one inch lock of your hair on my clean rug?"
That's right, I was concerned that her hair was messing up my rug, not that she had cut her hair. I must care more about my clean floor than how my children look. Let's just agree, I'm shallow that way.
Kaelyn was busily tucking shorn strands of hair behind her ear in an attempt to keep me from discovering that she was the culprit behind the hair-litter.
"What? I don't know what you're talking about!"
She said this so innocently. Why does she continue to underestimate her super-intuitive mother? I don't know. I thought my brilliance was so undeniable, but children are casually unaware of such things.
"Kaelyn," I said, in my best interrogator voice,"Why did you cut your hair?" (Did I mention the stray lock of hair was attached to a piece of tape? Because you need to know that to understand what comes next.) She gave up, FINALLY acknowledging that it was useless to try and keep ME in the dark.
"I was trying to make eyebrows!"
"You were going to tape this onto your face," I said, holding up exhibit A. I tightened my lips in an attempt to keep from smiling, as she nodded her head, because it is not polite to laugh at someone who is in earnest. Sadly, it didn't work. Kaelyn has apparently inherited some of her mother's intuitiveness. Or perhaps the snickering gave me away.