This morning I was spreading peanut butter on a piece of toast for Lily and a blob of peanut butter at one end of the toast started to ooze off onto the plate. Lily, who was watching me, laughed. "It's like the peanut butter's taking a little trip off the edge of the toast," she said.
I relay this not as an illustrative "how cute" anecdote but because it made me realize how differently children see the world. I am almost done with my rereading of The Phantom Tollbooth, which has put me in a heightened state of mind as regards a child's point of view. Although Miles, the protagonist, is a sort of blank everykid, he is unquestionably a child. As such, he meets each new and fantastical experience with acceptance, opening an envelope to "see" a sound, for example, or naming a meal so it will appear in front of him. Part of the magic of this book is Miles' open attitude. His journey, after all, is to save the kingdom, and he takes it on with zero fanfare, no expectation of praise or reward.
Part of the magic of being a parent is these little windows into one's own past. I remember before Lily was born wondering how she could possibly "believe in" such inanities as the tooth fairy. And then she was born, and our six-year-old neighbor lost a tooth, and Lily explained all about the tiny magical creature who had left actual money under her young neighbor's pillow. And instead of thinking, "How gullible," I thought about the notes our tooth fairy used to leave, with pen-and-ink drawings of herself, always signed, "Suzy." A name, not coincidentally, that my mother had always liked. And I liked that our tooth fairy had a name, that she was ours and ours alone.
I like the fact that where I see a little mess to be repaired, Lily sees an excursion. I like the fact that like Miles, she meets inanity head-on with matter-of-factness. I like the fact that all day today I tried to see the world from the perspective of the peanut butter. Sometimes it's okay to edge right over the toast.
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3 comments:
I love so much in this post, Amy. The Phantom Tollbooth was one of my favorite books. Still is. I remember meeting a boy called Jared at CA, and when we discovered it was also his favorite book from childhood, we knew we'd be friends 4-eva. He gave me his childhood copy when I graduated and it remains one of the most meaningful gifts anyone has ever given me.
And The Tooth Fairy. Right. We started out with The Seed Bunny here. Whaaaat? You don't know about The Seed Bunny? The Seed Bunny delivers a packet of seeds when you lose a tooth. Oh, and The Seed Bunny works with The Tooth Fairy. Do you know what else sometimes happens when you lose a tooth? The Oyster Fairy, The Sushi Fairy or The Lobster Fairy might come too. You never know. It all depends on who you write the letter to when you lose your tooth. Oh, the lies we weave...
Another visitor we have is The Candy Sprite who visits on Halloween night. You lay out a big pile of your candy and *poof* The Candy Sprite exchanges it for something fantastic!
Damn. My life is complicated. xo
Amy, I was thinking about my response to your post last night. I apologize for the length of my response -- I had such a visceral reaction to your words as I often do. There is magic in your writing.
You write: "Part of the magic of being a parent is these little windows into one's own past."
Yes. And since I for the most part don't remember any details about my childhood, I devour your vignettes about your parallel life across town and relish how you connect them to your parenting journey today. Your words make me remember, delve and reflect in new ways.
Plus, only you could write about seeing the world from the peanut butter's perspective. xo
Hi Betsy, don't apologize for the length of your response. I for one, loved it!
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