2003-10-03 - 6:39 p.m.
GETTING ALONG
Teenagers often complain about one thing or another. But even I had to concede that Kat had a point when she pulled herself up to her full height, looked down at me and her father (he was sitting and I was standing) and said, �I can�t tell which is worse�when you guys don�t get along or when you do.�
When we get along, you see, our children have to put up with what Day-Hay refers to as �that mushy stuff.� (But one person�s poison is another�s ambrosia. Kat�s current boyfriend once commented that he thought it was nice to be around us because it often is as though we are still dating.) I learned the joy and value of �that mushy stuff� from the best. I still remember the picnic on the grounds of Springwood, Franklin Delano Roosevelt�s home in Hyde Park, where my father shooed us back to play saying, �Go away. Your mother and I are necking.�
Other times, the �when you do� is stranger. They are the times Mr. Philately and I take a quick trip down emotional memory lane and return to fourth grade�or to second. Remember those days when a girl would spit on a boy�s shoe just because she liked him? Or when a boy would pull a girl�s braids just because he liked her? Well, Mr. Philately and I believe second childhoods should not be wasted on our elders.
But when I landed on my broken toe, I had to concede that Kat had a point. Sometimes when we �get along� it is as dangerous as when we don�t. You see, I had to hop away and I was perfectly happy�until the landing. And the hop wasn�t my fault. It had something to do with the ice cold hands that were placed on my stomach�for no reason at all. (Never mind those bite marks on the back of his neck from when I meant to nip him but he moved his head. Those were his fault too.)
On the rare occasions that we don�t get along, my life is painful. Unfortunately, sometimes getting along is painful too.
IN CASE YOU MISSED THEM:
Judith
Toehold
I am Afraid
Wanting to Want
Barbie
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Copyright 2006 by Ellen |
