On the First Day of Christmas, My True Love Gave To Me...A (Female) Owl
I had dinner with a dear friend of mine tonight, and I told her that I can tell how well (or, more typically, how poorly) I have been caring for myself by the length of my fingernails and the number of days that have passed between blog posts. So if the 3/8" clippings and the 11-day blog drought are any indication, I have not been at the top of my own list lately.
No, occupying Slots 1-5 were Christmas gifts, Christmas wrapping, Christmas cookies, Christmas meal planning, and...what was that last one? Oh, yeah, now I remember--caring for the family that doesn't shut down when life-blood-sucking holidays come around. Those darn kids still dare to get hungry and soil clothes when I have visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.
The Christmas tide washed in and left in its wake a shallow sea of plastic bits and pieces scattered about our living room. The good news about this is that the kids have been entertaining themselves quite well the past few days. The bad news is that eventually I'm going to have to find places for each new inventory item. Even with the two-garbage-bag sweep that the Grinch made of our toy supply about 30 minutes prior to Santa's arrival, that will be no small feat.
Still, all the extra work the holiday requires, even in the slightly scaled-back form we targeted this year, is worth it for certain priceless moments scattered throughout the day. For one, the kids actually tore themselves away from tearing open presents to eat a sit-down breakfast with their parents and grandparents. That was pretty impressive.
So was the time that our older, "I'll share my stuff tomorrow" child stopped what he was doing to show his younger sister how to get her fingers underneath the creases in the wrapping paper to open her gift.
But most priceless of all was a conversation my daughter and I had about the stuffed owl she received from a great-aunt and -uncle. Plush toys are amazingly lifelike these days, and this bird--which strongly resembles Hedwig from the Harry Potter series--is no exception. Our darling girl took an immediate shine to it and carried it lovingly in her small arms most of the day.
At one point, I wanted to check out the bird's gray feathered wings, and, reaching toward her, I said, "Can I see him, honey?"
Then I caught myself. Why would I either assume the creature was male or automatically assign it a masculine pronoun?
By way of correction, I asked, "Is your owl a boy or a girl, sweetie?"
"I don't know," she said sweetly.
Then she matter-of-factly removed the bird from beneath her arm, deftly turned it over, and grasped its legs to spread them apart.
After a quick glance down, she looked up at me and said, "It's a girl."
No, occupying Slots 1-5 were Christmas gifts, Christmas wrapping, Christmas cookies, Christmas meal planning, and...what was that last one? Oh, yeah, now I remember--caring for the family that doesn't shut down when life-blood-sucking holidays come around. Those darn kids still dare to get hungry and soil clothes when I have visions of sugarplums dancing in my head.
The Christmas tide washed in and left in its wake a shallow sea of plastic bits and pieces scattered about our living room. The good news about this is that the kids have been entertaining themselves quite well the past few days. The bad news is that eventually I'm going to have to find places for each new inventory item. Even with the two-garbage-bag sweep that the Grinch made of our toy supply about 30 minutes prior to Santa's arrival, that will be no small feat.
Still, all the extra work the holiday requires, even in the slightly scaled-back form we targeted this year, is worth it for certain priceless moments scattered throughout the day. For one, the kids actually tore themselves away from tearing open presents to eat a sit-down breakfast with their parents and grandparents. That was pretty impressive.
So was the time that our older, "I'll share my stuff tomorrow" child stopped what he was doing to show his younger sister how to get her fingers underneath the creases in the wrapping paper to open her gift.
But most priceless of all was a conversation my daughter and I had about the stuffed owl she received from a great-aunt and -uncle. Plush toys are amazingly lifelike these days, and this bird--which strongly resembles Hedwig from the Harry Potter series--is no exception. Our darling girl took an immediate shine to it and carried it lovingly in her small arms most of the day.
At one point, I wanted to check out the bird's gray feathered wings, and, reaching toward her, I said, "Can I see him, honey?"
Then I caught myself. Why would I either assume the creature was male or automatically assign it a masculine pronoun?
By way of correction, I asked, "Is your owl a boy or a girl, sweetie?"
"I don't know," she said sweetly.
Then she matter-of-factly removed the bird from beneath her arm, deftly turned it over, and grasped its legs to spread them apart.
After a quick glance down, she looked up at me and said, "It's a girl."
posted by Lisa Strandberg at 9:45 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home