Yesterday, my son decided that he wanted to write a letter to his bear, Walter … so he did. As I described it on Facebook:
“The letter included Walter’s name, my kid’s name, a drawing of each, a drawing of a house and a drawing of a cave. Oh, and a drawing of some hydro wires. Then he made a bracelet for Walter, and included a set of keys (not ones we actually use). Then we weighed it (52 g), so we had to put five stamps (stickers) on it. Very productive afternoon.”
Inside the letter, he traced the letters I’d written. On the envelope, he printed them all by himself. I posted pictures of both, and his grandma (my mom) made a sweet and benign comment about how he is a “budding writer.”
Two things came together in the past week that have had me thinking about what I wear, and what it says, and if I care.
First, there was the news out of — where else — Florida, that a school board was considering a dress code for parents. As of last night that idea was (s)quashed like a palmetto bug, and rightly so.
So there’s Target in Canada now, which means I finally understand what my American friends have been going on about for years:
“I swear, I only went there to buy Band-Aids and sunscreen … why did I just drop $134 on a new mirror, a Lego set, a pair of flip-flops, frozen cheesecake, a 16GB memory card, four sets of pyjamas and a mini wrench set?”
We finally went to the one nearest my house on an urgent late-afternoon caffeine quest (because the one near my parents’ place has a Starbucks in it, as does our local one, though I didn’t find it on that first visit). I got distracted, and instead of two tall dirty chais I walked out with a tiny pink watering can and a beach pail. For less than the cost of one of those drinks, so suck on that, Corporate (North) America.
We don’t do Santa Claus … yet.
The kids are still on the young side for it being a (cultural) necessity; by this time next year, my son will have been in Kindergarten for a few months, so I suppose some combination of both myth-learning and myth-busting will be unavoidable.
If I had my choice, we’d avoid the whole thing entirely.
I never thought I’d see the day that I’d be quoting an article by David Plotz, being the staunch Dickersonian that I am, but damned if I don’t want to just share the whole damn thing: Yes, I Ignore My Kids To Text and Email.
His piece, in response to a blog that showcases photos of parents neglecting their children in favour of electronic interaction, took on the “better parents” that would have us believe that such diverted attention is the equivalent of abandonment.