nuggets, 06/24/12: metaphors

When we went to the farmer's market on Thursday this week, both kids spent some minutes listening to a guy playing his guitar. He had his guitar case opened to receive cash, and inside the case, Sava spotted two small stuffed animals; when Raya asked the guy why the stuffed animals were there, the man replied that people had given them to him, and he hoped some kids might like them and take them home. To my unspeakable mortification, both kids rushed to seize an animal each: a colorful dolphin for Sava and a spotted cat for Raya. Sava, who's been obsessed with dolphins, clutched and cradled his new toy the whole way to the car; Raya, whose attachments are fleeting at best and self-serving at worst, got tired of the cat midway through the next song and dropped it back in the guitar case. As soon as she did that, I knew we'd all regret it, but I decided to let her (and us) live with her mistake.

When we got to the car and her wandering mind zeroed in on the fact that Sava still had his stuffed animal, while she didn't, there issued a wail of protest that had me looking for earplugs. On the drive home, her strident self-pity morphed through disappointment with herself to anger with the two of us, to which I replied, with studied calmness, that she had made her choice and she needed to live with it; in response to all this, just as we neared home, she declared emphatically, Mommy, I don't like you! You are not my best friend! At this point, Sava, whose poor nerves had been stretched to the limit as he doubtless felt guilty for provoking her anger by bringing his own stuffed animal, broke down himself and started sobbing. When I asked him why he was crying, feeling my heart break for him but also trying not to smile, he said through tears, Because what she said to you is not kind!

This story is the preamble to another more memorable story from about a month ago, when we went hiking at Henry Coe. That second story is etched in my heart forever. It's taken me a while to be able to write about it.

On the way back from Henry Coe, the kids were exhausted after a full day of hiking. Instead of sleeping, as we had hoped they'd do, they started going nuts. They tickled each other, laughed hysterically, shouted over each other, sang, and "jumped." The road leading away from the park is very curvy, so after several warnings from me that either they lower the volume or I pull by the side of the road, I had to stop. In a calm voice, I explained to them that it was dangerous for me to continue driving while being so distracted and that they each had two options: either lower their voices and continue with us or else walk home. We were, at this point, about fifty miles from home.

small lagoon on the beach; water less than completely freezing

Before I continue the story, let me say two things: 1) I didn't consider my words carefully before I spoke; 2) given a chance to rewind the past and redo this moment, I would make my ultimatum as follows: either they lower their voices or else all of us sit by the side of the road until all is calm.

In the real story, Sava declared immediately that he would be quiet--my assumption about both kids' responses, of course--whereas Raya thought for a second and announced, I'm walking home! After a stunned silence of two split seconds, we reiterated the ultimatum to her and asked her again to consider carefully. Once again, she avowed, I'm walking home! Following some not-so-secret befuddled glances between Rado and me, we figured there was nothing to do but let her unbuckle and get off the car. I am sure neither of us had a plan, but we hoped we'd call her bluff--instead of her calling ours--and getting off the car would scare her into getting back inside.

Nothing of the sort happened, and instead Sava became hysterical as soon as she unbuckled, and the next five minutes were spent listening to him screaming, Raya, get back in the car! Please! Please! Get back in the car! while Raya, unruffled, though a bit confused as to why her brother was crying, kept trying to close the door while she reiterated, No, Sava, I'm walking home! He, the dear soul, still buckled and distraught beyond proper speech, kept pushing the door with his foot so it wouldn't close.

Did she understand what was happening, and did she fully comprehend her choice? Of course not. That is why, given a chance, I'd redo this moment completely; I'd redo it so that her 2.5-year old self can have a choice that fits her understanding. Still, the stark contrast between our two kids was on display for all four of us to witness in horror (at the moment) and in delight (in retrospect). Now we laugh about it; in the moment, we all felt like crying.

After five minutes of watching her brother plead through tears, while Rado and I stood mute, Raya relented and said, Alright, Sava, I'll come back in the car. She had not given in to us, but she was willing to mollify her brother.

Later, when Sava told us one night that week that he had trouble falling asleep because he worried about Raya walking alone by the side of the road, we reassured him that we would never have allowed her to walk alone and that, if she had insisted on being stubborn, one of us would have walked with her. He's never mentioned the incident since, but I am sure he has not forgotten it.

We also told him that, like that day by the side of the road, there would likely be many instances in the future when he'd have to be his sister's keeper--her reason, her balance, her better self. Soon, when he knows the meaning of metaphor, he'll understand that this moment stands out in our shared history as a metaphor for their burgeoning relationship. Or is it a synecdoche? One of those.
:::
Pictures above from our trip last weekend to the moody California coast along Highway 1. On a hot day in our neck of the woods, the temperature barely rose above 60F on the coast. We had to change our original plans to go back to Bean Hollow State Beach, which we visited last year, and instead settled for Pomponio Beach, just a few miles north, where the sun was not smothered in thick fog at 10 am. The ocean was the absolute coldest I have ever seen it, but Raya did not flinch and insisted on jumping waves until my toes froze senseless.

I think the only times I breach rules about being in front of the camera, rather than behind it, is on beaches.

And so so rare to have a photo of all four of us, courtesy of the thoughtful friends who came along.

We tried a new tent-like contraption for the beach which worked well until the wind blew it down,

and Sava enjoyed playing with his buddy.

After three hours at the beach, beaten by the wind and ingrained (pun intentional) with sand in every possible crevice, clothes notwithstanding, we ventured a short hike along the cliffs. 

they're looking at a series of fire trucks speeding by on Highway 1

The beautiful coastal flowers were in full bloom.

:::
Stuff They Say 

Last week I complained that I had not written down enough of what they'd said. Turns out, I had a whole stack of notes about which I had forgotten; when I found it, it felt like happening upon a treasure-chest of gold. That's my favorite gold in the world.

Yesterday, Raya was trying to sit on a paper stacking cube. Rado:
Raya, don't sit on it or it will break!
No, it won't!
Yes, it will.
(sitting on it) Well, it didn't!
But if it breaks, don't come crying.
I will come crying!

Sava has picked up notions about "Jesus" from friends and schoolmates (I think), and every now and then he says that he either "believes in Jesus" or "doesn't believe in God" or some such thing. On our way to the coast last weekend, Buddha came up somehow in conversation, and I gave him a short spiel, as I've done many times before, on how people believe different things, some believe in one god, others in many gods, and finally, I explained where Buddha fits in all that. After brief thought, he announced:
Well, I believe in Jesus, but I don't believe in what you just said.

When Rado cautioned Raya not to go outside without her shoes, as she stood peeking through the open door to the backyard, she shot back:
I'm waiting! I'm just saying hello to the world! 

Raya's been fascinated with one of my students, who for a while walked on crutches because she bruised a muscle. When Raya herself hurt her foot recently falling from a chair, she declared without a moment's hesitation:
I want a small cast. Not too tight. I don't want any crutches!

yes, he eats and loves ice cream now; chocolate ice cream, specifically

At the table, Raya:
I want gold bunnies! (like goldfish, which we don't allow because they make both kids sick)
Sava, watching her acting all sad and distraught:
Raya, just being cute doesn't do it!

When Sava was all upset about losing a game of "Sorry" and vowing not to play it again for another year, Raya offered helpfully:
Here, Sava, why don't I give you a pacifier? 

We've been doing a couple of math books with Sava which require him to count by grouping pictures of things creatively into sets of 2, 3, 5, etc. When he just counted the pictures once without grouping them and then realized his mistake, he exclaimed:
And that's not what they want you to do. Then they wouldn't sell the math books to you!

a swimmer who dips his head in water!

How do we know our kids listen to enough NPR? Because then Raya asks:
Mommy, does Rick Santorum want to be a president?

wild child

Raya has flawless understanding of one principle of life: if someone has a special day, he or she gets a present; she has also been determined, for months now, to get a new doll. When she went to wish her dad Happy Father's Day last weekend, she framed her best wishes in the following way:
Happy Father's day, Tati! Do you have something just for you and me? Like a doll for me to cradle?

after an early morning swim

When Sava refused to wear either a jacket or a sweater for the cool weather outside and sulked instead, Raya chirped in:
Sava, you can come with us to the park when you're happy!

Tati reading Winnie the Pooh to both kids 

On the way back from fabulous Frog Hollow Farm today, about which in the next post, Sava, apropos of nothing:
I'm gonna marry Raya!
Raya, without skipping a beat:
No, you're not! I'm gonna marry you!

Happy first week of summer.