May 15: Seesaw, Kids, Daughter's Drama

I passed by this playground and stopped and watched a couple of very tiny kids on a seesaw.  One of them was sort of fat, and I put my hand on the skinny kid's end, to sort of even up the weight, but you could tell they didn't want me around, so I let them alone.

Holden learns a very important lesson about kids in the above passage:  they generally resent help from older people.  Even though Holden is a teenager, to the seesaw kids, he's the equivalent of a school principal or truant officer (do they eve have truant officers anymore?).  Kids want to be independent, until they can't get their little worlds to balance on the seesaw.

Last night, my daughter's world wasn't balancing.  She was practicing a speech she had to give today for her Language Arts class, and it wasn't going well.  The unpoppable bubbles she was trying to create were popping, and her life was coming to an end.  It was a two-hour drama, and, at times during this crisis, I was screamed at, walked away from, and glared down.  I wanted to help her, but every time I put my hand on her end of the seesaw, she went all Linda Blair on me.  Eventually, she accepted my assistance, but only after her universe had imploded a little.

This morning, my daughter trooped off to school with all the equipment for her speech.  At around 10:30 a.m., she got up in front of her classmates and delivered her talk.  I glanced at my watch at around 10:00 a.m. and said a little prayer for her.  I've been worried all day long about her unpoppable bubble.  I have no idea whether it popped or not.

I guess that's what parents do--to protect their bubbles, keep them from popping.  Balance out the seesaw whether the kids like it or not.

Saint Marty always hated seesaws when he was little.

Protect it.  Always.