Getting dirty...
Sometimes life is just,
well, a little dirty. Today my six year old on the way back to the car
after soccer practice was being silly, joking around with himself, and was heard
by my husband saying “middle finger you!”
Over, and, over. Again, and,
again, until dad, who is also a coach of the team, could get him in the car,
and explain the situation to him. Mind
you, there were no gestures; just something he had overheard his older brother
yell at me, mama, months ago during a nine year old to mama battle.
A few months back my
enraged son screamed, “Middle finger you mom!”
Well, I couldn't do anything but laugh!
Hysterically! I mean, here was my
nine year old screaming an obscenity at me, which if he knew anything would
have been gestured at me! Funny, right? Well my nine year old just looked at me like
I was insane. Not like a teenager would
look at you when you are light-years away from them on every level, but, like a
nine year old who knows they’re in deep trouble, but you are just not making
any sense at the moment.
When my laughter slowed
to a point where I could finally talk to him, I asked if he knew what that
meant, and, honestly, thankfully, he said no.
So, I explained it. In grown up
words, and, terms, with the
gesture. He was shocked. Mortified. “Thank God!” I silently screamed
in my head at his newly shamed state.
Then I asked, “Where did
you hear that?” Now, I can cuss like a
sailor on leave in a faraway port, but, I am not the guilty party when it comes
to gestures. Gestures are not my game.
With eyes as big as
moons he looked at me, and replied, “At school.” Hmmm.
Where to go with this now? I
thought for a moment, letting the little screamer squirm on the stairs like an
eel about to slip away. You could just
see him wishing the stairs would swallow him up! After some mental debate with myself, I
decided on this, “Well, you can just go back to school and tell who ever told
you that, what it means, and, what it got you.”
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| Life will always find a little dirt to plant a seed... |
Then he begrudgingly followed
me to the bathroom for a squirt of soap, which was applied directly to his
braces for maximum tastiness. While he
trotted down the stairs, most certainly to scrub out his mouth with the first piece
of clothing he could find, I snickered, and, giggled over his outburst for the
rest of the night.
Now, back to tonight
and, my six year olds repetitive, laughing, squawking little voice saying, “middle
finger” on the way to the car. I think
he got the message from his mortified dad who laid down the rules clear, and,
direct to him about things that are jokes, and, not so much jokes.
So, as everyone came into
the house tonight from practice, and, my husband related his parking lot
adventure to me, of which, of course happened within ear shot of one of the
families on the team. I started to
laugh. Not just a little, but the kind
of laugh that will get me snorting for breath!
If you know me, you’ll know what I mean.
For goodness sake! This hasn't been mentioned in our house since the nine year old originally said it, and, of
course he heard me telling grandma about it.
Now months later, it’s come full circle with another child, in a dirty,
gravel filled parking lot, with kids, and grown-ups all around my horrified husband.
Who would ever guess the
millions of ways that life will come around in tiny little repetitive waves to
complete circles of these moments within the daily adventure of my life? Each day there are beginnings created by a
broadcast of interactions at every direction, and sometimes, sometimes we get
to reap the funny, cute, wonderfully dirty harvest of the seeds planted last
month.
One things for certain
on a harvest as good as this one, it’ll make it to the final memories when all I
have left is a few vibrant moments from my life that I will repeat a million
times to the few ears who will still listen to an old woman telling the story
of her life, “Back in the good ‘ol days.” When there was less cement, and more
dirt.
~Nita Lundberg
