Song: Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic- Sting
"Mama, are clouds the sun's sheets?" Julian asked, looking at the sky.
I'm on my way to his pre-K class -we're going to blow horns to celebrate his turning five before his actual birthday which falls over Spring Break.
He asked me about the clouds a couple of months ago. His phrasing has become a perfect balance between far-out and fluid. So beautiful, I remember his questions for months. If he himself were aware of the metaphors he creates -he'd be writing for Poet Monthly, collecting monetary awards that I would encourage him to use toward a beach house. For me:)
When he was about three- he would string words together in perfect pronunciation, confident as a a brick house in a pig story. What any of it meant our best guess couldn't tell us. We used to call it "Acid Jules". His thoughts so random it was like listening to someone on an acid trip. I couldn't repeat back what he said even 30 seconds later because there was no thru-line... he'd ask a question like, "Socks in the telephone bicycle cake sun crack? Yes? Mama? MAMA?! IS IT?" -it was so awesome I wanted to write it all down, but like I said- usually I couldn't recall it the way he said it. Plus, he'd get so pissed off if I laughed-forget asking him to repeat himself- it was like begging to get my ass kicked. I'd tell him, sweetly, "Jule, I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing with you." "I'm not LAUGHING MAMA!" he'd say. He didn't understand. I learned fast not to mess with the process. I loved his ideas and I did not want my big gob getting in the way of hearing them. I managed to get a couple down. I dug them out of the "Notes" section from three phones ago. ( Incidentally, I retrieved it a moment before Henry, almost two, used it as a sponge this morning, soaking up all the water from the kitchen sink. Lest I forget there are major benefits to growing up.)
Here's what I found:
"Color wheels are the same as dolphins right? Killer whales live on the top of the ocean with the waterfalls with the holes in the caves where the chipmunks go."
"The moons gonna come out the theatre show starts today TV starts next year." I must have giggled, "It's not funny Mama!! No it's not, it do's like that."
There was also a slight bent toward ebonics. Everything was why do's it? It do's too, Mama. Him being in the early developmental stage of understanding, of not knowing is the very reason he is able to speak his mind so plainly, so sure of himself. I wish there was a way to hold on to that, but he's growing up fast, learning the "correct" questions to ask, the "normal" way to communicate and see things. I hope he chooses to communicate them with his special twist, whether anyone's laughing or not.
I didn't understand the point of the words that Julian said when he was three, still sometimes says. But I do get that being able to listen to the way his mind processes his new world around him allows me to see things in magical ways. I appreciate his innocent heart and the frustration he feels when I can't understand. I always find myself going back to all of those acting classes I took with my amazing teachers who would say, don't think! Just do and see what happens. Sometimes what you create will be awful, or trippy nonsense, or if you can truly shut off the judgement and light shines on you at just the right moment- brilliant. Sometimes it will just be, eh. What is the worst that can happen? The art is in the effort- to learn and still be free. It was so hard to undo all that "right" thinking. It's so fun that Julian's one of my teachers now. I need so many reminders. Being five is something to blow horns about. "Every little thing (he) does is magic". Except the yelling, that, I could almost do's without.
<3
"Mama, are clouds the sun's sheets?" Julian asked, looking at the sky.
 |
| The thinker at two |
I'm on my way to his pre-K class -we're going to blow horns to celebrate his turning five before his actual birthday which falls over Spring Break.
He asked me about the clouds a couple of months ago. His phrasing has become a perfect balance between far-out and fluid. So beautiful, I remember his questions for months. If he himself were aware of the metaphors he creates -he'd be writing for Poet Monthly, collecting monetary awards that I would encourage him to use toward a beach house. For me:)
When he was about three- he would string words together in perfect pronunciation, confident as a a brick house in a pig story. What any of it meant our best guess couldn't tell us. We used to call it "Acid Jules". His thoughts so random it was like listening to someone on an acid trip. I couldn't repeat back what he said even 30 seconds later because there was no thru-line... he'd ask a question like, "Socks in the telephone bicycle cake sun crack? Yes? Mama? MAMA?! IS IT?" -it was so awesome I wanted to write it all down, but like I said- usually I couldn't recall it the way he said it. Plus, he'd get so pissed off if I laughed-forget asking him to repeat himself- it was like begging to get my ass kicked. I'd tell him, sweetly, "Jule, I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing with you." "I'm not LAUGHING MAMA!" he'd say. He didn't understand. I learned fast not to mess with the process. I loved his ideas and I did not want my big gob getting in the way of hearing them. I managed to get a couple down. I dug them out of the "Notes" section from three phones ago. ( Incidentally, I retrieved it a moment before Henry, almost two, used it as a sponge this morning, soaking up all the water from the kitchen sink. Lest I forget there are major benefits to growing up.)
Here's what I found:
"Color wheels are the same as dolphins right? Killer whales live on the top of the ocean with the waterfalls with the holes in the caves where the chipmunks go."
"The moons gonna come out the theatre show starts today TV starts next year." I must have giggled, "It's not funny Mama!! No it's not, it do's like that."
 |
| "Don't mock what you can't comprehend" |
I didn't understand the point of the words that Julian said when he was three, still sometimes says. But I do get that being able to listen to the way his mind processes his new world around him allows me to see things in magical ways. I appreciate his innocent heart and the frustration he feels when I can't understand. I always find myself going back to all of those acting classes I took with my amazing teachers who would say, don't think! Just do and see what happens. Sometimes what you create will be awful, or trippy nonsense, or if you can truly shut off the judgement and light shines on you at just the right moment- brilliant. Sometimes it will just be, eh. What is the worst that can happen? The art is in the effort- to learn and still be free. It was so hard to undo all that "right" thinking. It's so fun that Julian's one of my teachers now. I need so many reminders. Being five is something to blow horns about. "Every little thing (he) does is magic". Except the yelling, that, I could almost do's without.
<3
No comments:
Post a Comment