March 18, 2016
By Ekta R. Garg
Enjoy these Spurts from the last two weeks, readers!
One day as Nine and I drove to school, we talked about relating to teachers.
“I don’t know why, I’ve just always gotten along with teachers,” she said, her tone a mix of being pleased and slight confusion.
“I always used to get along with teachers too,” I said.
“They just like me,” she said. “They say I always behave really well.”
“So you don’t it in the corner of the classroom pouting about anything?” I asked in a teasing voice. “You don’t complain about anything?”
“Then why do you do it at home?”
“A girl’s gotta do her pouting sometime,” she said.
Wait, are we looking to the tween years already?
The closer we get to Nine’s next birthday, the more she likes to remind us that she’ll be ten soon. Every year when we get closer to her birthday, I bring up the fact that she promised (a long time ago, might I add, when she was young enough to make these promises in all earnestness) that she wouldn’t grow up anymore. That she’d stay little.
“You said you’d stay little,” I said to her yesterday afternoon as we made lunch and talked yet again about her birthday. “You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie,” she said pragmatically. “I grew.”
Oh. Right. That.
The state of Illinois held its primaries this week, and I went to our quiet polling station and put in my vote. Later I realized I might have been better off asking my younger child for her political views. She certainly had them.
She even had a solid source for those views.
When I picked Seven up from school later, she asked whether I’d voted. She surprised me, because I didn’t think the kids were that up to date on current events. But it’s possible she may have heard from her teachers that it was voting day that day.
I told her yes, I’d voted, and she asked me who I’d chosen. When I told her, she came right back with her advice.
“You should have voted for Hillary Clinton.”
“Really?” I said, amused. “Why?”
“Because she’s awesome, and she would make an awesome president.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because I do.”
“Who told you that?”
“Um, myself,” she said, her tone edging on Valley Girl sarcasm.
I didn’t have a good answer for her. And anyway, how is it that my seven-year-old can assert an opinion on politics? When I was seven years old, I had no idea what the word “politics” even meant.
It’s a new world.
Digital technology gives me the ability to keep in touch with the progress of our new house through texting and email in addition to old-fashioned phone calls and plenty of in-person meetings. These days I often talk to people connected to the construction first thing in the morning, and I’m also receiving texts.The phone lets me know I’ve got a text with a whistle.
One morning this week my phone whistled at me from my purse as I packed lunches for school.
“Mamma, is that your boyfriend?” Seven asked with a glint in her eye.
“Maybe,” I said, joking back.
“You should make sure he’s not sending you stuff that’s too lovey,” she advised.
“But what if he does?” I asked, frowning in pretend concern.
“Just…try not to pay attention to it.”
“But he’s just being nice, right?”
“Yeah, but he shouldn’t be too lovey.”
“Okay. But what if you’re not around when he sends me stuff like that? How will I know what to do?”
“Don’t worry about it, Mamma,” she said. “Just enjoy this stage of your life.”
Great. Now my seven-year-old is telling me to carpe diem. Seriously??