Boy Oh Boyers

Today was an awesomely fun day. While Tom was helping some friends of ours get ready for an upcoming move, Rowan and I stopped by Erin and Brenton's house to meet the new arrival, Mirren, and to visit with Rowan's best friend Ander. Rowan has been absolutely fascinated with the idea of Mirren since he found out Ms. Erin had a baby in her tummy, and when he knew Mirren was born Rowan started making up all kinds of stories about what "Baby Mirren" will do when she's old enough (a favorite is that she likes to fly in hot air balloons). Today finally Rowan and I had both fully recovered from the head colds we've had, and he was beyond thrilled to hold the new baby. The sheer difference in size between them was amazing; I know from the photos that Rowan used to be that small, but my memory kept telling me it was impossible.

Later in the day, we headed out for a bike ride and Rowan explored his "favorite lake" a little differently than usual (usually we stand on the closest shore and throw rocks, or walk to the bridge and...you guessed it...throw rocks). This time there were people fishing in both our usual places so we walked down a trail next to the shore for a while, exploring some trees on our way. What an adventurous little boy this one has turned into!

Today I had the opportunity to sit back several times and see what Rowan would do if given the chance to handle something himself. If you've seen Finding Nemo, you might remember the part where the sea turtle father lets his son, Squirt, find his way back into the East Australian Current rather than swimming to retrieve him immediately, as was Nemo's dad's instinct.

Every time Rowan has gone to the grocery store basically since he was old enough to know what a balloon was, he has gotten a balloon. Sometimes they're already blown up in the balloon "corral" at the front; other times it's empty or there isn't one in the color he wants, so the nice person behind the customer service counter cheerfully blows up one just for Rowan. This time we were in a bit of a hurry and when I saw the empty balloon corral I distracted Rowan by promising that we'd look for cantaloupe samples in the produce section (there were none). But he was good throughout the shopping and when I got in line to pay, he saw the customer service counter and the empty balloon corral and said, "I want to go get a balloon." I heard the sea turtle's voice saying, "Duuude, relax. Let us see what Squirt will do." So I lifted Rowan down out of the cart and told him he could walk up to the counter and wait for someone to come (there was nobody there at the time). It was quite a walk for a two-year old, some 20 feet with several shopping carts and people to walk around. But he did it, obediently looking back to make sure he could still see me (he was instructed that if he couldn't see Mommy then Mommy couldn't see him and there would be big trouble for that). He reached the counter and, seeing it was still unmanned, turned and looked at me. I motioned to him to stay and wait. He did. After finishing the customer who was two positions in front of me in line, our cashier noticed Rowan there and called on the telephone for someone to come to the customer service desk. Someone did. At first the employee looked puzzled and then he looked down and saw Rowan standing, watching him carefully, and silent. He said, "Can I help you?" Rowan giggled and did a little shy dance and I heard him say very quickly, "Yellow balloon, please," but in his language it came out, "Zhe-zhow boon, peese." The guy said, "You'd like a balloon?" Rowan answered, "Yes!" The man said, "What color?" Rowan repeated slowly, "Zhe-zhow." The man said, "Yellow! Excellent choice!" The man blew up the yellow balloon, tied it in a special adjustable knot to Rowan's wrist, and sent him on his way. By that time I was almost finished paying and Rowan came over to show off his new acquisition. Boy, did I ever see what my squirt can do!

Another example of this amazing self-sufficiency was when we got home with the groceries. I was unloading them when he spotted his grapes and asked for some. I quickly rinsed a few grapes, placed them in a bowl, and handed them to Rowan. After I finished putting away the other groceries, I joined Rowan at the table where he had carried the glass bowl full of grapes carefully, sat it on a placemat, and seated himself in front of it. I watched him pluck each grape off, inspect it for squishy or brown spots, and then eat all but one (that one he apparently did not deem worthy of consumption). Then, when the stem was empty he walked over and threw it in the trash. Then he came back, got his empty bowl, and took it back to the kitchen and sat it next to the sink. He walked back to me and said, "Did you enjoy watching me eat my snack?" Laughing hysterically inside, I replied calmly, "Yes, quite. Thank you for cleaning up after yourself." He said, "You're welcome. Can we walk Angel now?" It was time: "Yes, we can."

We made the obligatory trip to the used kids' clothing store in search of a spring/summer wardrobe for Rowan. We succeeded with flying colors and, if I do say so myself, admirable frugality. One of the best finds was this Wall-E shirt. Pretty awesome, huh? We do love Wall-E. If you haven't seen the movie, go watch it right this minute. ;-)

A couple of nights ago Rowan wanted to watch some space shuttle launch footage on youtube. (This is one thing he and Gram love to do together.) It was easy to find some footage; I just searched for "space shuttle launch" and up came hundreds of video clips I could click. From the small still images, Rowan pointed out, "I want this one." I clicked it and we watched a minute or two of space shuttle countdown, takeoff, and rocket booster separation. When the first clip ended he chose another video to watch. A few minutes in, we were on the third video selection and Rowan was totally engrossed while I was having a side conversation with Tom. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the footage looked lower quality than the previous two launches, definitely not widescreen format, so I thought it might be an older shuttle. I looked away again and said something else to Tom, and then the sound of a man's voice in a radio transmission grabbed my full attention. I heard, "Roger, Challenger..."

I gasped audibly.

Fumbled with the keyboard to stop the video.

Felt tears filling my eyes.

Finally found the "back" button on the browser, cutting the video off.

Rowan didn't notice my panic, and mercifully he went off to play in his room without a word from me. Tom continued what he was doing several feet away. The whole situation evoked a depth of emotion in me that was absolutely startling.

I sat there on the couch remembering vividly the day in Mrs. O'Quinn's first grade class that we watched the Challenger take off. A television on one of those big tall rolling carts had been brought in from the library so we could watch. We watched with excitement as the shuttle soared high, but then we saw streams of smoke going in directions that didn't make sense. We listened to the announcers' confused words while he tried to figure what happened. I remember the words "major malfunction" coming from the television as our teacher, with tears in her eyes, leapt to turn off the broadcast. Later, I remember finding out what had really happened, though I don't remember when I found out. I also don't remember if I had any emotional reaction, though I suppose I must have. I remember knowing that human beings, including a teacher, had died. I knew it could have been a kindergarten teacher from my school who had applied to the program and was admitted as an alternate, leaving school early the year before to train.

My surprise at my emotional response to seeing a few seconds of the Challenger launch is almost equaled by my surprise at the "lesson" I have taken away from it.

This experience gave me a deeper appreciation for Mrs. O'Quinn, who shepherded our first grade class through that traumatic day of the Challenger disaster. I also thought of Mrs. Dasher, my English teacher in high school, who was with us on the day that we saw the Oklahoma City bombing on television. Looking back, both of these teachers did the best they could to explain something horrible to young people who shouldn't have had to grasp horrible things. I remember knowing my whole class was sad, and I remember feeling comforted and secure by my teacher in both instances. By that standard, these two women did a really good job. I have tried to think back to how my parents discussed these tragedies with us, and I'll tell you, I can't remember. I am sure we did discuss them, and I know that throughout my childhood I respected my parents' viewpoint, so I would have listened to what they had to say. But I just can't remember it now, which probably isn't surprising because a dinnertime conversation is far more likely to be forgotten than the indelible moment when a child witnesses something that she has never seen before, and that has deep ramifications. The thing is, I feel pretty safe in going out on a limb and saying that neither Mrs. O'Quinn nor Mrs. Dasher shared the viewpoints of either of my parents at the time, nor the viewpoints I hold now, on faith, politics, or social justice. For many people I know, the idea that someone who doesn't share their viewpoint should have to explain something life-altering to their child is terrifying. And a week ago, I might have said it's terrifying to me too. But now, it isn't.

In those few seconds of panic while I tried to turn off the video to prevent my preschooler from seeing the violent and tragic death of human beings, I realized that no matter how much I think I know, I don't know how to explain something like that to Rowan. No matter how much I love him, and of course I love him more than words could ever express, I can't fix the terrible things he might encounter in this world. All I can do is my very best to teach him about Love and the faith that guides our lives...and we do that to the best of our ability every single waking minute in a multitude of "mundane" ways. In a moment of crisis or tragedy, there may be lessons to be had about mercy, justice, theology, philosophy, politics, and any number of other things, but those lessons are for later. The moment calls for a person who cares, honestly, about my child, and is willing to act as best she knows how to show him that he is cared for as he learns to cope.

I haven't asked them, but my mom and dad probably realized that in order to send me to school (a public school where I thrived, by the way), they had to put this kind of trust in teachers like Mrs. O'Quinn or Mrs. Dasher, people they barely knew. I know Mom and Dad were vigilant in case it seemed like a teacher wasn't worthy of that trust, but the default choice was to extend it. I'm glad they decided to take this leap.