Have you ever stopped to think about the ways in which your child is growing up differently than you did? Certainly because of time, but also perhaps because of place?
The other day, Magdalena brought home a coloring page from school. "It's an Indian koala," she said:
When I was four years old, if I said something was Indian, I probably meant Native American. In Magdalena's childhood, Indian means INDIAN Indian, like, from India. When we were in the US this summer, I talked with the girls about Lewis and Clark and I found the idea of (Native American) Indians very hard to explain. (Note to self: find out if there is a totally clear, PC term these days to use.) To Magdalena, this koala is Indian "because it has really bright colors." Someone was paying attention to the Diwali decorations at Miriam's school last year, I think.
When I was a kid growing up in the Pacific Northwest, where even summer evenings can get chilly, I never once went swimming without also getting freezing cold. My kids, on the other hand, will have memories of going swimming on Christmas Day, and at night all the time, without getting cold.
I have a really distinct memory as a kid of once seeing a field full of grazing llamas. It was something singular and amazing to behold. My kids see camels all the time. It has long since stopped being a big deal. Also in the Not A Big Deal category: the tallest building in the world. I remember as a kid coming through the Sunset Highway tunnel into downtown Portland and announcing, "It's the beautiful world!" When my kids were in Portland this summer, I think their reaction was kind of...meh.
BUT. My kids are in awe of wide expanses of greenery and forest trails and Mormon church buildings that are just down the street. Plus fireworks, parades, and all the blueberries, strawberries, and corn you can eat, straight from the backyard. Oh, and trampolines. You know, stuff that was commonplace when I was a kid.
I wish I could see the world through their eyes sometimes. I catch glimpses of it through overheard conversations with their little friends, or the things Miriam writes at school...or the pictures Magdalena colors.
The other day, Magdalena brought home a coloring page from school. "It's an Indian koala," she said:
When I was a kid growing up in the Pacific Northwest, where even summer evenings can get chilly, I never once went swimming without also getting freezing cold. My kids, on the other hand, will have memories of going swimming on Christmas Day, and at night all the time, without getting cold.
I have a really distinct memory as a kid of once seeing a field full of grazing llamas. It was something singular and amazing to behold. My kids see camels all the time. It has long since stopped being a big deal. Also in the Not A Big Deal category: the tallest building in the world. I remember as a kid coming through the Sunset Highway tunnel into downtown Portland and announcing, "It's the beautiful world!" When my kids were in Portland this summer, I think their reaction was kind of...meh.
BUT. My kids are in awe of wide expanses of greenery and forest trails and Mormon church buildings that are just down the street. Plus fireworks, parades, and all the blueberries, strawberries, and corn you can eat, straight from the backyard. Oh, and trampolines. You know, stuff that was commonplace when I was a kid.
I wish I could see the world through their eyes sometimes. I catch glimpses of it through overheard conversations with their little friends, or the things Miriam writes at school...or the pictures Magdalena colors.