the braggery of minutiae

I am sometimes in conversations with other mothers when they bring up the newest astounding thing that their child has done. Since I have a 3 year old and, thus, I often hang with other moms of preschoolers, the astounding things range from writing his/her own name to counting from 1 to 10 in Spanish. Most of the time, these situations put me in a rather uncomfortable position (assuming that the other mother and I have not been discussing a difficulty which she is then sharing has been solved). My first instinct is to share a random braggery about Sassy; yet, I squelch that instinct because when I pause to consider the words, they sound almost defensive. So, in the end, I say nothing, claim modesty in my own head, and move on.

Sassy has had her fair share of successes, that--though minute--I celebrate with our family. I read once that if you can salvage your relationship with your parents & in-laws it is best to do so since grandparents are the only ones who truly rejoice in your child's everyday successes and don't mind hearing about them in every conversation. From experience, I'd say this is very true. (Unless you have a parent figure who has raised or is raising another grandchild, in which case, they seem to want to compete on the same parental level. While personal for me, this experience is pretty rare.) I try to limit my braggery to conversations with these grandparents & other childless aunts so that it is well accepted. I don't really have a desire to compete with my friends using my child as collateral, especially considering that in my eyes, my child will always win hands-down. But of course, she is my child & I find her brilliant, personable, and darn near perfect. Such is the case for parents.

I was thinking about this all day yesterday. It wasn't because anything in particular happened that made me uncomfortable. In fact, the times that I have to find a way to respond to braggery within my circle of friends is few and far between. Instead, I was reflecting on this blog and trying to figure out if I could comfortably mention Sassy's successes here. The conclusion I came to was yes.

I have been wanting to record some of my proudest moments here because I not only use this as a means to share information, but also to record information for myself. I don't share everything, and it's far from a diary, but I do enjoy looking back even through the short 6 months Little Grapes has been alive and reading how our lives have progressed.

Since a blog is a mostly one-sided conversation, it doesn't feel inappropriate to record those boastful everyday moments here. There is no response required. There are no awkward moments where the conversation partner weighs the right response. There is just me, sharing my joy in being Sassy's parent.

So, here is what delighted me yesterday....

Sassy came running into the kitchen where I now have my office space yelling for me to "Come! Come see!" I followed her into the living room to find this:



She excitedly explained to me, "See...Big...Big-Little....um....Little-Big....Little!" I thought this was very cute and very clever. I took a picture for posterity and decided that she was going to do very well on those logic-based IQ tests when she got older.

Feel free to post your own one-way braggery in the comments (at any time!).

Sassy soundbite: "God made me"

About 6 months ago, Sassy learned in Sunday School that "God made everything." She even brought home a little sticker collage of all the things God had made, stuck right to a paper plate with a string for easy hanging. Sometimes we walk by the collage & she says, "God made everything."

"Yep," I say.

This has led to some interesting conversations. Such as, in the car, "Mommy, how did God make roads?" Which leads me into a discussion of how God made everything except the stuff Man made, but God made Man, so in a sense, he still made everything. And, of course, that leads into why we call men & women & boys & girls "Man," because it sounds confusing even saying it to a 3-year-old, and I don't really want her thinking that men make everything except food, which is the domain of their pregnant barefoot wives.

Actually, just last week Sassy and I were talking over dinner, when she said, "Mommy, God made my dinner."

"Actually, I made your dinner, sweetheart, but God made the foods that ended up making your dinner."

You see how it gets confusing? So the foods actually made themselves into dinner? Why didn't I just give God credit for the stinking spaghetti. It wasn't exactly a gourmet meal.

Well, obviously, it's all been sinking in somehow, because today she told me, "Mommy, I'm so happy God made me."

"I am, too," I said.

"One day," said Sassy, "I'm going to meet God and when I see him I'm going to say 'Thank you for making me.'"

I could learn a lot from this little girl.