My kids are funny. Just like all kids are funny -- because they're kids. And kids don't worry about taxes, or educational reform. They don't think for even a second about mortgage rates, or toxic dumping in the ocean. Kids have probably never even heard of black mold, so they don't know they should be thinking and worrying about that, too.
Which is all good. I guess. This way kids can keep busy at their full-time job of being kids. And being funny.
And which also means they can save all their worries for things like if their older sister is going to be left behind at the park. (By her mother of all people, but that part's not important.)
Why am I thinking about all this? Because this happened:
We were at the local playground. It was an afternoon just like every other afternoon, except for the part when I thought it was OK to tell my six-year-old if she didn't come
right now,
"we're leaving without you!"
Now, I would never tell my toddler (or any toddler) that I was leaving him behind, that just seems too mean. But my daughter is six, surely she knows better that mommy would never leave her behind?
And I was right, she did, she does, she is now and was then, fine.
But what I failed to put together is that telling a six-year-old you're leaving
her behind is just as troubling to a toddler as telling him you're leaving
him behind.
Next thing I know, I'm explaining to the six-year-old that the two-year-old has insisted on leaving the comfy confines of the car seat I've just gotten him into so he can return to the playground and "save" his big sister.
And the point of this whole story?
That kids are funny.
And that this kind of "I'm coming to save you!" devotion is why having a little brother is awesome even when it's hard to remember this because he talks all through American Idol and steals your clothes and takes the last piece of candy. And also, if you forget to hide it, your gum.
