Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Kira said when she was very small she thought it was a poop-carving. As in a piece of poop that was dried and carved. She said she thought it was poop because it was hanging in the bathroom. What better place is there to hang your poop-carving than in the bathroom? (Touché, Kira. Touché.) She was totally grossed out by it so that was why she wouldn't use that bathroom.
It's funny how some things that make no impression on you as an adult, make such a huge impression on kids. When I was really little I can remember asking my dad how big the moon was:
Me: Dad, how big is the moon?
Dad: Really big.
Me: How big?
Dad: Bigger than you think.
Me: How big?
Dad: Well, if it was here with us now it would fill up this whole room!
Me: WOW! The whole room!? That's huge!
I know my dad will deny having this conversation because he probably doesn't ever remember having it. But I remember it like it was yesterday. It was the day I learned that the moon would completely fill up our entire living room, and that was fascinatingly large because back then I thought it was about the size of a basketball. A few years later I learned that my dad doesn't know very much about astronomy.
In the context of the wood-carving man, what have my kids learned about me? Back when Sam was little he thought I had God held captive in the scary basement bathroom with the spiders and the furnace. He probably learned that I was a powerful bitch and he better not cross me, which would explain why he's always been so well behaved. Kira thought I was the kind of person who would use poop as a decoration and she probably learned that because she has a mother who hangs poop on the walls, ANYTHING GOES! Which explains her lack of self-discipline (or any other kind of discipline).
I wonder how our lives would be different if I never had that little wood-carved man? The downstairs bathroom would have seen more use, that's for sure.