Monday, June 22, 2009

notes on a Monday

The only thing I love more than finding the pictures my children have hidden for me, is to find the notes they are writing, especially when they are not to me. *gasp* you read notes that aren't for you?! isn't that invasion of privacy?! Yes, and, I don't care. When you're under the age of 12, you don't get privacy. Especially if you still, from time to time, demand I make sure I look at your bottom to see if you wiped well. These are obviously very strict guidelines for privacy.

Recently, I was working in the kitchen when I heard the front door fling open and the unmistakable pounding of Donovan running into our home. "MOM!" He yelled, waving a rolled up piece of paper in his clenched fist. "I have sumping for you!" Oh goody. A note. As I unfurled the 2-foot long scroll, eyes wide in anticipation, I beheld...huh. It's amazing to me that sometimes they can be so proud of something and I kind of just want to shrug and say, "Gee thanks," and toss it in the garbage. I mean seriously - dandelions? I don't need those kind of flowers. But I digress.

There, very deliberately, spaced about 6 inches apart, were an N, an N, and an M. And then, a scribble? I pursed my slight grin as I quickly tried to figure the best way to respond. Deciding to go neutral, I said, "Wow! Um, why don't YOU read it to me," because honestly, he knows how to write his name and Mom and a few other words, so what's with the letters and vast white space? Using a voice that lets the audience know the speaker is exercising the utmost patience (wonder where he learned THAT), he slowly said, "It says (pointing)...N...N...M...and dass a scwibbuhl." Now obviously grinning, I replied, "Huh. Well. What does it mean?" Code for why are you sprinting down from the neighbor's to deliver this to me? His face broke out into a grin matching mine as he shrugged, stretched out his arms and said, "It means I wuv you and I wanted to kiss you!" Ok, NOW that's a good note.

Ainsleigh's, on the other hand, don't require translation. They do seem to require a response, though. She has taken to asking questions in her notes lately, although I suspect some of them are kind of just rhetorical. Behold:

Found next to Gemma's crib
(Gemma hasn't replied yet. She's keeping it a secret, I suppose):

This one came after a particularly difficult afternoon with a certain
little brother. I like the heart. It seems to add a certain je ne sais quoi.
Kind of like how adding "bless her heart" to the end of any story
can take the sting out of any accusation.

I like that she's trying out new ways of writing, just like she tries drawing faces in different perspectives. Little does she know that I have this medium for asking rhetorical questions of my own, often "Why do you do these?" of my own children. Some days I feel like writing a lot. Some days I want to just pick a couple letters and make a scribble.


Tennille said...

Ooh--just wait until Ainsleigh brings home notes from kids at school. S worked on letter-writing all year and she came home with at least a couple of letters every day. Sometimes from boys. Sheesh. I read every single one and learned quite a bit about my daughter's at-school life.