Last year the boy presented to me the term "transitional object". "What, what the heck is that my boy.. what is it?... I inquired. "I don't know... something to do with being a baby, and a toddler, and hanging onto an object for safety...or, I don't know..." and the boy walks away. He confirmed clearly that he did not have one. " You are right boy.. but then again.... you didn't need one... you practically bankrupt us with your beaky problem when you were a baby"... I say to him. (Beaky= soother/pacifier... and it was yellow in colour). The boy loved his beaks... and then again, when he was done with them, he would throw it.. and it would be gone. Then, he would start to tremble, and probably see spiders, and his little hands and feet would start to roll back and forth... and we would have to quickly produce another beaky to calm little baby ways. Oh no son... you didn't have a transitional object all right. When the boy used that term with me last year... it wasn't a big deal.. I'm used to that kind of language spilling from his face.
The girl on the otherhand... is blond. I am not used to her using such language with me. "What did you say to me!"... I hissed.. and then I laughed (inside my head) when she boldly spoke of her transitional object... and I couldn't help but correct the sweet chicklet.. you have a non-transitional object I say to Miss Pip... you clearly haven't left your blanket behind...your stuck in some stage!!!... I say to the girl. She doesn't get it. All she knows is that she can present her transitional -non-transitional object to the class. I was worried for her... I am not certain if she would have been able to work at all at school.. or just lay her head on her fancied up desk top and just sit and day dream... because that is where I was certain that she was heading for the day.
I now have her tucked up in bed, with her non-transitional object, her red slippery jammies, her 35 cats and 2 unicorns, and a head full of clean braided hair. I won't speak of the screams that it took to get that head of hair clean... and yet when I got the filthy sap covered Pipenza into the shower after a struggle, and a tug of war with her non-transitional object... she simmered right down. Yes, she and the shower almost became one with each other. So, all going well.. for tomorrows "do-of-the-day" (aka the hairstyle)... it could be crazy and fluffy... very similar to her crazy and fluffy personality. OH.... and just thinking about that... here's another useless thought that needs to be shared:
We were at the ballfield earlier tonight to watch the ball playing/ singing & dancing boy play ball. I think I watched him sing more than play ball, but I wont fully commit to the last statement.. I have to give some credit that goes to complete boredom in the field. Anyways... along cruise some young girls.. all looking delightful and springlike with their badly coloured hair, and their chubby tummies hanging over their little short skirts. "Oh christ....what can I do.. so that we just don't have to deal with that...."... I say to Mr Husbandman, and to one of the scrapbooking Debbie's who happened to be at the park... at that exact moment the girls (mine & my adopted one from across the street)... ask for some cookies that I had picked up at the bakery, along with the Tuesday Bunwich Festival for Dinner......"sure... take two..." I say to both the screaming mimi's. .... as the youthful short skirted beauty's make their way past the park....
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