Last week of June

Molly's parents: still married.

Same issue, different year

When Devyn was pretty much the last child of her class out of the school today -- as she usually is -- I worried this time. Report cards were going home, and I didn't want her to look at hers.

She worries about report cards every year, though she does not yet have the work-for-good-marks drive. (At this point, school is all about the social environment and the physical activity for her, and I'm okay with that.)

So, we have the same conflict every year: she wants to see the end-of-year report; I do not yield.

Today, I wanted her to understand the basis of my decision, to reveal my opinion. 

Me: Do you know why I didn't let you read your report card?

Devyn: No...

Me: Because whether you have all As or all Fs, a report card can't tell us what you know or what you don't know, whether or not you can do something...

Devyn: (angry stare)

Me: It can only tell us what your teacher reports that she observed or was able to observe. And that's not the same thing, is it?

Devyn: No. (forgiving smile) 

Finally, after all these years, the conversation went as I'd wished. If I should someday decide that report cards are an objective measure by which my kid's self-esteem should be calibrated, I will let her read them and then have her tweak her self-evaluation accordingly. Until then, the report will represent a school-teacher-parent channel of communication only.

But ours is a personal, parenting decision. This means that some or many of Devyn's peers may read their report cards and have probably already done so. I am hoping that Devyn will remember that parents make decisions that are best for their own families.

Not a light lunch...

Devyn: I like the idea of being born over and over again. So the world never ends...

Molly: But, wait! You would have to be born first.


(Back-posted)

Oh, yeah, and if you get a chance...

It's Monday morning, Molly's return to school after a two-week break, and the four of us are getting ready for the day.

She doesn't respond as I announce that it is time for her to leave for school, but Molly often doesn't hear people when she's pursuing an interest. So, I am not surprised when I find her leaning against the princess sofa (our antique chaise longue) as she leafs through a book.

When I see its title, I cautiously ask if she intends to take the book to school.

-- Yes, I think so. For Victoria.

Victoria is a classmate who, it appears, is somewhat fickle in designating BFF status. Something tells me that I lack some critical information about Molly's plans for the day, but she really must leave now.

-- Okay, darling. Let's pack it up, then.

-- I'm going to give it to her at recess and have her read it. Then, she'll know how to behave.

I freeze. My mind races this way and that, searching frantically for a way to dissuade her from the sweet-but-misguided plan while nevertheless lauding this bold attempt to connect with a friend.

-- Well, what if you were to ask Victoria to read the book with you? Then, Victoria could learn about her mistakes without ever being aware of your [intended act of] kindness.

She folds the book under her little arm, furrows her brows, and sets about the task of going to school -- without disclosing her intentions.

I am encouraged by the fact that Molly reaches for books (just as Devyn does) in matters of conflict.

--

How To Be A Friend: A Guide to Making Friends and Keeping Them (Laurie Krasny Brown/Marc Brown)

But a kite...?

Molly: How could there be a kite flown in the house?

Me: Well, I guess if you can imagine a big talking cat with a red-and-white striped hat, you can imagine a kite flying in a house...Hahaha!

Molly: (staring)

Me: See, because large talking cats in tall striped hats...don't...Hee..heh...I mean, they...

Molly: (staring)

Me: They're just ima...Hmm.

Molly: (staring)

Me: 'I bet, with my net, I can get those Things yet...'

I get it. Among other things, there's nothing about the house ostensibly preventing a strange, unrealistically depicted talking cat from appearing because if you can imagine such a talking cat, you could just as easily imagine one appearing in a house; but there are walls and a ceiling preventing conditions sufficient for lift, etc. in order to fly a (comparatively) realistically depicted full-size kite such as those in the characters' hands.

Still, she could have laughed condescendingly while avoiding eye contact or something, right? ;)

Gee, thanks.

Me: Do you have homework tonight?

Devyn: Yes, math...

Me: Okay, then, let's get started.

Devyn: Um, I always do it with Daddy...because it's very hard.