Matching Tracksuits

Month: July 2009

The Wisdom of Seuss

Monday 6 July 2009

An occasional selection for my nightly bedtime reading with L is One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish. She sits on my lap, commenting on pictures, asking with every pause, “Turn the page?” We make our way slowly through the book — it’s not one we read often and she can’t recite any passages from rote as I read, like she can with Fox in Socks or Green Eggs and Ham.

I’m always taken aback at the appropriateness of the ending:

Today is done.
Today was fun.
Tomorrow is another one. …

If we could only keep that in mind daily.

Swimming III

Sunday 5 July 2009

We took L for her first swimming lessons when she was six months old. She loved it. Then through some kind of osmosis, she began taking on the fear of the kids around her, I think, and by the end of the series of lessons, she wasn’t wild about swimming.

Last summer, she still clung to her anxieties: we really didn’t go often as a result.

This summer, it’s a different girl with us in the pool.

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This makes for different parents in the water, as well.

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It has, in short, become a family affair. L floats; L slashes; L jumps — and we have to be there for it all. And that’s not just the parental pride; it’s L’s request.

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“Hey guys!” she likes to call out, “Watch me!”

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The clearest indicator of how her attitude toward the water has changed is her willingness to jump excitement about jumping.

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Again, and again, and again, only occasionally losing her nerve.

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Nothing deters her, not even a face full of water. Not even a face entirely under water.

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All of this is both gratifying (it’s great to see her overcoming her fear) and terrifying (it’s sometimes heart-stopping to watch her overcoming her fear). During a visit last week, she was being silly at the water’s edge and fell in. I was ten to fifteen feet away, so I swam there in a matter of moments. But those moments seemed eternal as she bobbed about in the water, unable to get her head out of the water, clearly terrified.

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Another object lesson in the obvious: parenting isn’t about holding tight, but it is about being close by when those tight embraces are necessary.

First Parade

Saturday 4 July 2009

I don’t know if I’ve ever been in a parade. If I have, I don’t remember it. That might be the case with L thirty-plus years from now, but we’ll remember it, K and I: L’s school had a parade yesterday.

There was a pre-parade performance/cheer,

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with a Cycling Corps actually leading the parade in (with one or two very wise little girls in helmets),

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followed by some marchers complete with banners,

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followed by the youngest toddlers’ escort.

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L’s group was the very last, with L marching as something of a walking Statue of Liberty.

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“Don’t let her see you,” K suggested before the parade began. “She’ll want to leave her group and come over to us.” Perhaps it was an unnecessary concern, for she marched past us with a big smile and obvious pride, and continued marching.

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She was somewhat intrigued by her own shadow, though.

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A photographer was there with a rather substantial collection of equipment, obviously a pro or a rich amateur: anyone with two Nikon D3 bodies…

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Finally, everyone gathered at the base of the flag to sing “You’re a Grand Old Flag,” I guess to the flag. It seemed strangely idolatrous and sweet at the same time.

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A picnic followed, with L continuing her usual aversion to meat. No hot dog for her, thank you — just a bun.

Visitor

Wednesday 1 July 2009

We have a large hunter that moves through the forested area behind our house with increasing regularity. Actually, there are a couple of them — certainly mates. I’ve tried several times to get pictures of our guests, but to no avail. Yesterday, I finally got a shot.

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These birds sail among the trees almost effortlessly, and their cry immediately confirms the identity: hawks. But they never came close enough or stayed long enough to get a good picture.

Until today.

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She (I think it’s a she — but my ornithology skills are not what they used to be) landed on our neighbors’ fence and I managed to creep close enough to get a decent shot. Soon enough, she flew away,

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but only to another part of the fence. Nearer and nearer — shocked at how close I was getting. The other day, we saw one of them land in our back yard; it appeared to have a limp. “Maybe that is the hurt one,” K said as I moved ever close.

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To be able to get a shot like this of a wild bird — quite a rush.

She flew away just as I began to wax philosophical with my silly thoughts,

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gliding only a few feet above the ground, telling me the session was over.

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But what kind of bird?

A quick check in our National Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Birds–Eastern Region gives some hints, but it’s not until we ask the Internet that we get any kind of confirmation: a Red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis), and I’m fairly sure it’s a a juvenile.

Yet we’re not convinced. Any ideas?