Log in

No account? Create an account

The Toybox

people for the conservation of limited amounts of indignation

Previous Entry Share Next Entry
child: theoretically, Child graduated eighth grade, so....
children of dune - leto 1
In reward for Child bootstrapping his way through math, see below cut.

Yes, Pink

The original plan was for blue or green for the last two days of school, but all they had was pink, so Child made do, and boy did he.

The thing is, it still throws me, how little he cares about what people think of him. Family and friends he takes under advisement, but the general world as far as he's concerned can kinda fuck themselves. He's always faintly surprised by the idea of disapproval is something to be worried about from the general population, from anyone, and bewildered by the idea that he should care.

My mom once said, in frustration, that it's impossible to make him interested in something by sheer persistence; he evaluates the activity, attempts the activity (maybe), and finds it good or not on its own merits. As a parent, it's frustrating as hell, but as a parent, it's also comforting; at the end of the day, he may knock over a bank or joy ride a car when he gets farther into his teens, but he won't go along with his friends because they did it. No, he'll do it because he found it lots of fun. And he has an ethical code that may not be mine but it rock-solid and unbendable; I'm not sure I can say that about myself, but his is there, and he's as angry with himself as anyone else when he breaks it.

He bends for me, he'll go along with something for me, but he doesn't do it because he's afraid, but because he loves me, because I love him, because at the end of the day, he may not agree with my decision--I can't ever make him agree if he just doesn't feel it--but he acknowledges my right to make it. He may argue me down (and has, I figure if he wants it badly enough, he can damn well make a presentation on the subject), but there's a part of me that does smile when he doesn't agree but does it anyway, knowing that my will guides him but doesn't--change him, not unless he wants it to.

I come in to find him playing airplane with his three year old cousins, red-faced and giggling, scooping them off the floor to soar around the room; my sisters trust him to babysit the way they don't even trust me; he's friends with girls with the same ease he is with boys; he emails me at three in the morning with the secrets he can't share in daylight hours when we're only a room apart because he knows I'll listen to what he can't yet say when he's not yet ready to talk; you can't argue him down, shout him down, make him shut up, but he'll listen when you talk; he's very probably going to end up in a garage band or working on a nuclear reactor or cloning reptile people or working as a waiter or conquering the world; marry an extraordinary girl or an incredible guy or never marry at all; have a dozen kids or adopt a half-dozen or be the uncle-friend whose house is a sanctuary of video games and experiments gone wrong; I don't know where he'll end up and neither does he, and sometimes the best part is everything will always, always be a surprise. I'll be surprised when he's twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, and it will always shake my world apart like the day he was born, cone-headed and red and unsurprised that I fell in love with him before I heard his first irritable scream because like I said, I can make him go along with me but that doesn't mean he will agree, but he's never doubted me and how I feel about him, even if at first I doubted myself.

I can make him laugh when I ask him if I'm ruining his life yet; if he's posted sad poetry about crows and death and no one understanding his pain; if he ready to be a teenager and scream he wishes he'd never been born. He snickers when his friends call me Gigantor because I still top most of them by a head or so even when I'm not wearing heels; he wants to be cuddled and petted when he's sick; when I'm unhappy, the first thing he does is pull me in for a hug. He wants to go to Chicago and free the Komodo dragon from it's captivity at the aquarium (every. damn. year). He wants to make instructional origami vids for the web.

My kid starts high school next year and we're arguing whether he'll take Turkish or French or German, if he'll test into the advanced math class, if he'll post to ff.net, and boy would I kill for a fangirl-parent/kid con where we could throw all our kids in a room just to see what happens.

Still in love with my kid. Just in case you were curious.

Posted at Dreamwidth: http://seperis.dreamwidth.org/84882.html. | You can reply here or there. | comments

Tell him from me the color works on him.


I keep stopping to stare at him and grin; he mostly gets irritated when i give him tips on how to keep the color fresh, because hello, he knows, he's watched me for years. *glee*

he says thanks, btw.

He sounds - and looks - totally awesome.

It is very, very pink. *glee*

Great color!

He sounds like a keeper ;D

His years of servitude to me shall continue, at least until he's legally not obligated. *grins*

i was feeling disgruntled and cynical and bitter all day, and now i've read this and am sitting here with tears in my eyes and feeling like my heart has been cracked open a bit (in a good way).
you're doing it right. both of you.

He often has that effect on me, too.

Thank you.

I've said this before, but Child is awesome. Only a very small part of that is because I'm convinced that he'll someday take over the world, and want to be on his good side when that happens.

He'll conquer it with an army of reptile people. *sighs* Provided science will keep up with him.

Thank you.

If the world were filled with more understanding parents like you. The world would be an amazing place. You also have a wonderful son.

The thing is, it still throws me, how little he cares about what people think of him.

That is a prize above rubies. One of the greatest things my dad ever did was have the following talk with me one morning during breakfast:
Him: So, you're kind of weird.
Me: Yeah.
Him: But you seem happy -- are you?
Me: Mostly.
Him: Well, then, that's fine.

He sounds insanely charming.

Raising boys can be tricky as hell. Not because of any innate boy-ness, but because of the multitude of damaging things culture tells them -- and their parents -- that boy-ness should be. This post made me so fucking happy for both of you. So happy. He sounds like quite the healthy and interesting human being! Hugs from a distant internet acquaintance. <3<3<3<3

I feel like your kid and my kid should be friends.

Mine graduated from 8th grade on Thursday.

He's everything that I want to be.

His mohawk is going to be purple for the summer.

Oh man, Child wanted a mohawk so much, but it wont' grow out by the time we get to the beach and we have done the sunburned scalp thing. SO CUTE.

That right there? One amazing kid =)

Everybody's in love with Child. I would not be surprised or upset if Child one day took over the world. All hail our pink-haired ruler!

Also I would go to that con, and I'm not a parent or a kid.

Absolutely seconded about the con thing. Also, he should know that if/when he needs a partner in crime for genetics, I'm most of the way to my undergrad degree already.

You won the parent lotto, hands down.

And though I don't have kids, I agree that there has to be a great deal of relief in knowing that whatever shenanigans he pulls, he'll pull them because he wanted to, and not through peer pressure. I get the idea he's going to be the ones talking the others out of incredibly stupid ideas.