An Elephant in the Sky

One of my earliest memories, and one of the handful I have of my father took place on a summer day when I was three or four. He called me outside to the front yard and pointed up. An airplane was soaring above us, leaving a trail of smoke. He helped me identify each letter as the plane twisted, turned, dove, and rose though the sky. We both laughed when we put it together, P-E-P-S-I.


As the smoke began to clear, we lay down on the grass. The lawn at our house on Parkview Avenue was so thick, that even in the middle of a heat wave, you felt cool laying on top of it. I picked blades of grass from the ground absentmindedly and we stared at the sky. He was the first to speak. "I think that's an elephant." I laughed in delight. It did look like an elephant, or maybe a tiger? And so it began. We spent (what felt like) hours staring at the clouds, carefully deciding what each resembled, from frogs to princess crowns and everything in between. It was simple. It was carefree.  It was the most perfect way to spend an afternoon when you're three (or thirty-three).


I’m not sure why that memory sticks out in my mind so vividly.  I have so few from my early childhood. But it does, just like it was yesterday. Whenever I look up to see a cloud-filled sky I'm immediately transported back to the front lawn of my childhood. And as for the Pepsi advertisement? It must have been effective, because I certainly do have an affinity for an ice cold Diet Pepsi...

In our house we have chicken nuggets shaped like dinosaurs (and Mickey Mouse), french fries that look like smiley faces, fruit snacks with Scooby Doo and Spider Man and sharks, macaroni in the shape of bunnies, and on and on. And on.


The thing is, my boys are immune to it.  They could care less if their Spaghetti-O’s are letters of the alphabet.  They’ve never commented on the shapes, colors, or other various ploys of savvy marketing executives focused on appealing to the toddler mind and pallet.

Instead, my boys embrace their creative spirit.

A few nights ago, Jack had tortilla chips with his dinner. He stared at them intently, turning them around in his chubby hands. He looked up at me, smiled slyly, held the chip victoriously above his head, and declared, "It's a...DUCK!". Colin squealed in excitement and agreed, affirming Jack's statement. With gained confidence, Jack picked up another chip, and this time it was a goat, then a scary dinosaur, and finally a boat.

Colin had a corn dog on his plate that was now a snail, a turtle in its shell, and a lightning bug.

Did any of those items actually resemble in the slightest their vivid descriptions? No. Of course not. But with each revelation, I enthusiastically agreed, and we talked about it. What is the snail doing? Why is he hiding in the corn dog? Is he scared? Is he going to surprise someone? Where is the boat sailing?

We make up stories, laugh loudly, and turn a simple dinner into an adventure.  Although, I will admit, when the boys start comparing my spaghetti to snakes, I  tend to lose my appetite.

We live in an era where toy and entertainment companies feed kids a slew of pre-fabricated characters, story-lines, and props--it’s almost as if imagination has been silenced, or at least muffled. Why imagine that a stick found in the yard is a sword, when you can grab your light saber (with sound effects) and pretend you’re a superhero?

My husband is the best at finding simple, ordinary, around the house items, and turning them into something special. An empty beer box turns into a robot costume. Discarded shoe boxes turn into a parking garage for the boys' matchbox car collection with a few careful snips. A finished paper towel roll? Bingo! A pirate looking glass. Or a telescope to see the moon. A box of noodles transforms into a musical instrument, suitable for a parade around the kitchen. And on and on.

To me, creativity is a skill, more than it is a talent. We are all born with the ability to be creative. It doesn't necessarily mean to be artistic, or musical. Case in point? My three year old can draw a better stick figure than me, and I was kindly asked to take Music Appreciation class in 8th grade over Choir, yet I consider myself to be a very creative individual...and I'm an accountant.  Last time I checked, accounting isn't a profession generally associated with creativity.

I learned a simple, yet important lesson on my front lawn: creativity is something that we can foster, develop, and nurture in our children, and can be done without piano, dance, trumpet, or art classes. Creativity can be part of our ordinary, everyday life.

So when my boys dump a basket of freshly folded laundry on the floor, jump in their "boat" and start searching for sharks, I'm right there with them, shrieking and jumping onto the couch to escape the dangerous waters of our family room.

- Laura 

The Words We Carry

I posted this on my personal blog on Friday afternoon. Even though this isn't, per se, about parenting, it is about life, and that is something we all can relate to. 

Words are some of our most powerful possessions.

I've always taken to them well--I was an accurate elementary school speller, taking pride in one hundred percents on spelling tests. I have an uncanny ability to memorize song lyrics and thought I'd be perfect on the now defunct "Singing Bee" (fantastic premise, terrible show). I liked words so much, I majored in them in college, and then went and learned new words to new languages.

Every day we speak words in various tones with facial expressions that convey our messages in so many different ways. Say something a little perky and with a smile and you might just make someone's day. On the contrary, mumble and frown and just the opposite happens. Even worse, perhaps, would be ignoring someone else's words, and the message that such an event could send.

My oldest tells stories that often include the inserted, "And then guess what?" after each detail, and it gets tiring to say "What?" and maybe I do zone out, but I make sure I'm looking at him. I make sure he knows he matters, that his words matter.

My youngest will sing songs, particularly "Baa Baa Blacksheep" until you want to hand deliver all the damned wool yourself so you don't have to keep asking him if he has any.

But I sing along. Because those words matter, too.

Sometimes, we use our words and we just aren't quite sure what the impact will be. Fall on deaf ears? Imprinted on the heart? Somewhere in between?

Our own mothers felt this way, I'm sure, and now as parents, we find ourselves quoting them. "My mom always used to say..."

As a teacher, I say words all day long. "Don't forget to do your homework" is always in one ear and out the other. "There's candy at the end of this activity" gets all attention focused on what my next sentence will be. (Subsequently, all I have to say is "lollipop" at my house and my kids will do whatever I ask.)

I had a student several years ago, Miranda. Not many young girls with that name, so she is easy to remember. Perhaps she holds a sweeter spot in my heart because she struggled with so many things while she was a student in my class. Junior High is rough--I would not repeat it for any amount of fame and fortune--and for today's kids, I'd say it's a whole different, more angry animal.

So in many ways, Miranda reminded me of, well, me.

We spent some mornings...and lunches...and after school minutes chatting about all that ailed her: friends and parents and fitting in and dealing with difficult things and figuring out the best ways to navigate through the age of fourteen.

I know I shared so many words with her, words that I had always hoped lit some sort of fire; words that just maybe could have been the ones that imprinted on her heart.

Two years ago Miranda was killed in a car accident.

This morning, in my mailbox, was a letter from a student I never had. Her name brought no immediate recognition, but she introduced herself as Miranda's best friend.

"You have taught me a life lesson that I will never forget," she wrote, "and it was something that you told [Miranda]. And that was that you deserve the best no matter what, don't settle for something that isn't the best...Whether you know it or not, you changed her life, and I am so thankful that you were there for her, and me."

The words we carry within us, the ones we choose to say in any old regular way, in any old conversation, can be the words that plant seeds in hearts. And when we don't even know it, they go off and they grow.

That's the honest truth.

-Kristin