Things I've Learned From My Kids- Part 2

I pulled our Dodge mini-van into the parking lot of Quik-trip.  I was sharing the vehicle with my children, five at this time.  Esther was not with us.  I was just running in for 30 seconds to get coffee, but I got all the kids out of the van and took them into the store with me because the news is always full of horror stories about kids left in vehicles while their parents run into the store.  Okay, Okay, Okay!  I'm lying.  I've heard all the horror stories and yet I am still too lazy to get everyone out of the car when I know I'm only going to be a second.  The true story of this day is that I turned around in my seat and anounced to the occupants of the van, "One rule.  Stay in your seats.  You can sing, you can cry, you can play games, you can fight.  Just do-not-get-out-of-your-seats!"  I stressed each syllable in an impressive display of Dadness.  I finished with, "Josiah, don't let anyone get out of their seats.  Other than that, let everyone be."

I entered the store, got my cup of essential nutrients (I'll have to blog some day about my love affair with coffee), paid the cashier, and returned to the van.

I grew concerned as drew near my van.  With each step my anxiety grew.  The van was where I left it.  There were no windows broken.  All the tires had air in them.  The doors were all closed.  I paused, fears of toxic fumes from an open sewer drain wafting into the van and wiping out my offspring paralyzing me.  It simply had to be something that sinister because I couldn't hear fighting, or screaming, or cursing.  Something must be wrong.

I open the door and slid into my seat.  I slowly turn in my seat, surveying the van, expecting the worse.  I found five quiet little faces looking back at me.  "Everything Okay?" I asked, a slight tremor in my voice.  This is when Josiah gives me an explanation.

"I didn't want anyone to get out of their seats," he started, "so I made up a couple extra rules."  He then went on to explain his rules and the reasoning behind them.  I was quite impressed with the train of logic that he used to create these rules.  Today I can't remember them specifically, but I have never forgotten the impact they had on me.

As I drove home, sipping my hot, delicious coffee, I was curious about how naturally we make rules.  My eight year old did it instinctively.  It is so hard for us to be satisfied with simplicity.  We are given enough rules to succeed, but fear that others will not, so we assist them with extra rules.  These are born out of a heart to help, but do they?

Church legend has it that John the Apostle, towards the end of his life, answered every question with the simple answer, "Love one another."    No matter how deeply theological these question were, "are you a supralapsarian double predestinarian, or a sublapsarian single predestinarian?" (bit of an anachronism I know, but you get my point), John's answer was, "love another."  That's a pretty good rule.  I imagine most of us could stay pretty busy just trying to follow that one.  Why do we, like Josiah, so naturally draw to, "God, I didn't want anyone to break the rule, so I made up a few extra"  Good question.

Cats and Dogs

I recently posted about a particular instance of sibling rivalry between my youngest son and my youngest daughter.  Upon reading my post, and doubtless after spending everyday with these two adorable midget demons, Esther has come to the conclusion that the reason Eve and Isaac don't get along is because Eve is like a cat and Isaac a dog.  I've been meditating on this possibility and have come to the conclusion that this metaphor may hold true for more than just my two youngest.

Let's analyze some well known attributes of cats and dogs and see what you think.

Dogs growl and look like they are going to bite your head off, while cats arch their back, hiss, and look as scared as they are angry.

Dogs drool and enjoy rolling in things that smell foul.  Cats clean themselves incessantly.

Playing with a dog usually involves thumping the beast about the head and neck.  Cats play with string.

Dogs have three looks; viciously angry, stupidly happy, and occasionally pouty (if they chewed up something they shouldn't have).  Cats seem to have the ability to access an endless supply of attitudes.  These include welcoming, expectant, aloof, pissed, seductive, regal, polite, and many more.

To be friends with a dog, you must wrestle it, feed it, rub its belly, and talk to it in an exageratedly dumb voice.  To truly befriend a cat requires a great deal of respect and tenderness.

Many of you who have pets could probably make a list 10 times as long, but hopefully this gives you an idea of where my mind is going.

I once heard, I believe from Gary Smalley, that the problem boils down to brain damage.  Something about the synaptic fibers between the two hemispheres of the brain being burned away by a boy's testosterone.  Makes good sense to me.  From my perspective, girls are able to think and feel way too much.  They have the ability to multitask in a way that puts Mac to shame, they schizophrenicly blend logic and emotion, and when they love, they do so with both sides of their brain, instinctively blending the feeling with thoughts of family, home, and health.

Men, on the other hand, feel simply.  They can access either logic ("dear, let's think this through"), or emotion ("I don't care if fighting doesn't solve anything, he ticked me off and I'm going to kick his...").  They task (notice the absence of the prefix "multi"), and when they love, they assume that that is enough.  Thoughts of family, home, and health either sneak up on them later, or get beaten into them with a rolling pin.

I have eight dogs and four cats.  The dogs are easier to raise.  When they piddle on the rug, you rub their noses in it, give them a swat, and send them outside.  The cats are too delicate for that.  Somehow they are born with an understanding that even though they are the pet and I am the master, they actually run the place and I am here to serve them.

Sometimes my house is a pound.  There is howling and hissing, petting  and purring, and teaching and training.  We change litter and we scoop poop.  We groom.  We feed and we feed and we feed.  Many ask us why we have so many.  They are so much work and so expensive.  My answer?  I go to bed every night having been kissed and hugged by 12 little pets who adore me.  That is enough for me!