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ARM IN ARM
by Remy Charlip
Surreal, hilarious, thoughtful. I can’t say enough about this children’s poetry book from visionary artist Remy Charlip. Even though it was written in 1969, it feels fresh as a daisy.
MOTHERHOOD
by Arm in Arm
Forgive me if you’ve heard this one, but the other day I was at a table surrounded by toddlers and parents about to enjoy a sugar rush from my first bite of homemade chocolate cake at our friends 3rd birthday party when —
my two and a half-year-old, slice of cake and kid fork in hand called to me from across the table —
"Mama, can you cut my cake for me?"
I studied her.
What was going on here? She can physically cut a bite from her slice and feed herself.
If it's my tenderness and affection she's after, she will have to ask for that directly.
I can't reward this kind of coded emotional request. She could spend the rest of her life saying octopus expecting snow!
No.
It's not her community's responsibility to do the invisible labor of figuring out what she wants and needs. If she wants togetherness, my focus, or tenderness, pretending to be incapable isn't going to cut it.
No.
Plus, I want a bite of my cake. There's no reason to fling it to the side and tend to her when she can clearly handle it.
No.
Besides, a mother needs her own moment with cake. You know? Like Lindor commercials.
I'm attempting conscious consumption these days and I successfully avoided a bagel at the party in favor of the dessert course.
I’m feeling cranky.
So anyway —
"That's Lilyan's work," I served.
"Please, mama"
Now everyone was watching this interaction unfold.
"Lilyan, I know it's hard, but you can do hard things," I leaned on the table across from her.
She hung her head, defeated.
"When you slice into that cake and take a big bite it will taste so good, and then you'll be able to eat chocolate cake on your own forever."
Parents nodded in support.
"I caaaan't," she moaned.
"You can. You can do hard things." I straightened up.
Arrogant that she would give in and take her own bite of cake, I turned to the group of parents and said, "I'm certainly not making it easier for her to eat more chocolate cake." Everyone smirked.
Ha.
Ha.
My two-and-a-half-year-old narrowed her eyes.
"I'll ask my papa," she beamed.
I choked on rainbow frosting.
We all watched as the toddler, cake in hand, slid out of her chair and glided across the house — careful not to spill one crumb on her way.
Her Papa, was unaware of the play he was participating in. Thankfully, we all had an unobstructed view when she reached him.
We watched with great anticipation as he leaned in close to hear what she was asking for.
That loving man.
Not only did he happily slice a bite of her chocolate cake for her, but he also proceeded to SPOON FEED IT INTO HER MOUTH.
She ate precisely one bite of cake like this and then walked away happy and satisfied.
Her captive audience roared with laughter.
Even I laughed deep and long. It felt so good.
When our friend told her Papa about the moments before his scene, my wonderful husband — I haven't seen him laugh that hard at a party in a long time.
…
Yes, I'm okay with how it all unfolded. I'm on my path of parenting, and he is on his, and she is on her own journey of discovery in autonomy.
Her father isn't thinking about creating a growth mindset when she asks for a bite of cake. He isn't considering protecting his moment with his own bite of cake, either.
Her father isn't — maybe — thinking about anything except meeting the needs of his kid, and that's sweeter than any bite of cake anyway.
Good for them.
As for me, I plan to continue encouraging my daughter to do whatever she can for herself. This world isn't responsible for encouraging her esteem; nothing builds confidence like self-reliance.
If she knows how to take a bite of cake at two-and-a-half, who knows what she'll be able to do in her lifetime.
But —
Considering this story — even when her father offered to feed her, she only wanted one bite — so I have to wonder if she was in fact looking for the warmth and tenderness of connection from me.
And even though it’s good practice to mean what you say, maybe she doesn't even know what to ask for yet.
Maybe next time she asks for “help” with something she is capable of doing, instead of saying "no,"
perhaps I'll go over to her.
Perhaps, I'll get to her eye level, and maybe I will put my hand on her shoulder or hold her hand or smile at her and acknowledge her presence, and maybe instead of trying to teach her something, I'll ask if I can sit near her while we eat our cake together.
A reaction like that will encourage her to discover whatever she means and take a bite of her own capacity.
Because if I’m being honest it’s hard to know what you really want. Even for grownups.
For example, I am almost 39, and I thought all I needed was a moment alone with a slice of cake when what I really needed was to laugh with my pals.
Until next time <3
DANCING CAKES
by Arm in Arm
Chocolate Gateau Sliceable Cake
Sweet birthday cake with fruit
Handmade Chocolate Layer Cake On A Stand
Felt Cake Set -Chocolate Rainbow 6". 6 pcs cake with rainbow icing and candles
PairPear Birthday Party Cake Playset for Kids,Wooden Toys Play Food
Wooden Chocolate Bonbons on a Tiered Tray
IN RAINBOWS
by Arm in Arm
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