Remember twirling around on the swing set out back? Tummy on the swing, arms and legs hanging down, you’d walk in circles to wind the suspended chains around one another, like a rubber band wound up to fly a toy plane, and then lift your feet up, and zoom! Off you’d spin, around and around again, until the swing came to a brief suspension and then spun the other way. Read the rest of this entry
Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.
A little collection from the past year or so:
“Don’t eat your tiara, honey.”
“It’s probably not a good idea to put a straw in the cup with the lizard.”
“Stop worrying about whether you’ll get in trouble or not, and tell me the truth: Where is your fish?”
“Your poop is huge and bright green because you’ve been eating too much candy and not enough green vegetables.”
“Yeah, I’m sure the birds are gonna love the way you put the red berries on sticks all along the driveway there.”
“Really, it’s okay. We would never ask you to go upstairs if there was an elephant up there.”
“You can’t “unpromise!” You already got your part of the deal!”
Catch some of your words to kids and share them with us (hit comments button).
Joan T. Warren
Don’t tell me another “Don’t,” –please?
We’ve all heard “Don’t” enough. We’re numb.
We’re even numb to the “Don’t” messages that matter.
For example, almost every day we hear a commercial reminding us:
Don’t text and drive.
“It can wait,” they say.
Today I counted the number of oncoming cars whose drivers were looking down as they passed me. What would you guess? One? Two? No, in one mile, seven of ten drivers were texting instead of heeding oncoming traffic! Seven. Of ten. The mile included a school zone, a bridge and a playground entrance.
So, yes, I’d say we need those public service reminders. Let’s not be numb-skulls:
Don’t text and drive. It can wait.
Don’t leave yet!
There is something else we technology-driven (pun intended) folk do these days with equally disastrous potential. It’s something we readily take for granted because we do it so much. It’s something we do so much because nothing bad happened the other times we did it.
Or, did it?
Little Johnny is excited to show Mommy his art project from school. He made it for her. “Just a sec, hon,” Mommy says,” as Johnny pushes his paper between her face and her phone. “Wait, I said,” as she takes it and lays it on the counter, quickly returning to her phone. Mommy doesn’t notice as John-John slumps off, shoulders curled forward, feet shuffling, lower lip pouting. “Stupid art project,” he sulks.
Betsy is thrilled to see Daddy come to her swim meet today. She’s been doing well; coach says she’s most-improved this season. Perched on the starting platform, she glances at Daddy to see his proud, encouraging look. He is looking down–his fingers steadily tapping away. Betsy misses her start. She fights down the lane, checks her time, checks her Dad. He missed it. He is still texting.
Baby Leila crawls across the floor and pulls up to stand at the coffee table. With brave anticipation, she lets go for the first time and takes a step toward Mommy. Mommy doesn’t see. She is texting Gramma, sending pictures from this morning’s breakfast, yogurt all over Leila’s head.
We need yet one more public service ad:
Don’t text and parent.
Babies don’t wait. They grow up quickly, with or without us.
©Joan T Warren
Many thanks to Jordan of Bushel and a Peck, for her post, which spurred this thought.
P. S. The author is also preaching to herself.
On second thought, I think it IS alright to text while parenting IF you text your kid! Check out this hilarious link:
There is a lot of talk lately about the last days. The last days of President Kennedy’s life in this 50th anniversary of his death, the last days of confidence in the USA being the strongest country in the world, the last days of planet Earth as we approach the Apocalypse, you know, that sort of thing. Somehow, I got to thinking about the last days of being sixteen. Perhaps it’s because my granddaughter, who is coming to visit this Thanksgiving, turns seventeen in January. Wow, it’s hard to believe, already, these are the last days of sixteen for her.
My mother told me that it was very important to have a Sweet Sixteen Birthday Party, actually, a “Sweet Sixteen and Never Been Kissed Party.” I was probably about six at the time, and this thought captivated me. I pictured myself at that Exciting Party, turning sixteen. I would be tall and thin, like Barbie. Read the rest of this entry