David's Bad Day

I pulled up to the curb at the school and my four kids piled in. It's David's month to sit in the front seat (don't ask me how they arrived at this system of rotation all I know is that they did it themselves and it's saved me hours of parental agony) and he shut the door behind him, dropping his backpack onto the floor mat.

"How was your day?" I asked, knowing what kind of answer to expect but determined to be cheerful nonetheless--kind of an emotional tactical manoeuvre if you will, adopted after years of guerrilla parenting.

"Bad," he said, his already droopy cheeks drooping even closer to the ground.

"So what happened?" I asked, "Was it bad in an bad-things-happened kind of way or was it more of a why-didn't-anything-good-happen way?"

"Bad stuff, really bad stuff."

"For example?"

"Well in gym we had to play basketball and I had to play Horse with this girl. I was ahead when we stopped yesterday and I thought I was going to win but we finished the game today and I lost."

Still painfully cheerful I said, "Gosh, that's too bad, but girls can be really good at basketball. That didn't ruin your day did it?"

"Not yet, then at recess I was sledding on the sledding hill and the Noon Duty didn't like it that I was on this icy part so she told me I couldn't sled anymore."

"For the rest of recess?"

"Yea."

"So you got beat by a girl in basketball and got banished from the sledding hill? I'm sorry but least it will be better tomorrow."

"But that's not the worst thing of all. Since we've finished with basketball in gym we're starting a new thing--dancing. Bald room dancing!"

"Bald room dancing? Well that's not too bad, you like to dance don't you?"

"Yes, but not like that! I like dancing at home but in gym I have to dance--" and here he paused to let the full barbarity of his words sink in-- "with girls! The teacher makes you get all smushed up next to them!"

Horrors. Evidently you can't play Horse with them and you can't bald room dance with them.

It was hard not to laugh. It's hard for me to remember back to days when losing a basketball game, getting in trouble at recess and ballroom dancing destroyed my day but I thought I knew what to do. I talked him down off his little ledge and took him home for waffles. Life may be unduly tragic when you're 8 but at least it's easily fixed--a super treat for an after school snack can make all the difference.

Then there's Spencer. It seems David's not our only son who's getting a crash course in girls. This morning I was making my usual gross of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunches while Andrew threw our daily dose of religion at the kids. We try to read scripture together in the mornings at breakfast and right now we're deep in the Bible and just hit the Ten Commandments. I was smearing peanut butter and bagging sandwiches and Andrew asked the kids if they could name some of the commandments we'd read about yesterday.

"Don't steal."

"That's good Lily, any others?"

"Don't kill."

"Also a good one--anyone else?"

At which point Spencer spoke up and said with more than his usual dose of conviction, "Thou shalt not cuddle with thy neighbor's wife!"

What?? "Um. . . yes, do you mean don't commit adultery?"

"Yea, that's it--no cuddling."

It's a good thing I was turned away from him while working over my sandwiches because it wouldn't be good for him to see me laughing over the seventh commandment. Or eighth. Or ninth. Or whatever it is. He must have overheard my explanation of "adultery" given to Lillian (age 5) the day before that adultery was "being married to one person but kissing and hugging someone else." I was a little vague on the details.

He could use a few more specifics--you know, a ballroom dance class or two--and the whole things sounds like a job for Super Dad to me.

Technorati tags: motherhood, parenting, ballroom dance