coffeemilque

mintpepperbee:

I love it when the structure of an assignment is made so that actually DOING the assignment only gets you a C+. Getting an A requires you to invent a time machine, back-flip through physics, defeat the Firelord, and save all of China. 

Hell, you have to launch yourself into space just to get a B. 

Ron had to wear that sweater that his mum made him for Christmas. Even with a C+, I would never do that. ♡

From James: I am gonna build my own house. And if my wife has a boy AND a girl, I am gonna name the boy Justin and I am gonna name the girl Jennifer.

James’ Story Idea:
‘WIZARD OF OZ 2: QUEST FOR THE STORM.

“I have to go to the bathroom!”
We are just out the door and up the stairs when Hope announces this.
“Go with dad, it’s okay; James and I will wait right here.”
She bounces back to the front door and James begins to let me know all the details of his next big story.
“The guys catch a 7-11 sign. It is just floating by in the flood, not attached to the gas station anymore. Then they catch a fire hydrant and a dead pigeon. They don’t throw the pigeon away, but set it up like it’s alive and they put it in a glass box so no one can use it but scientists. Then they catch a dead salmon and a dead squirrel and they do the same thing. This is how the squirrel looks, holding a nut.”
He poses, frozen, staring out in front of himself, little hands holding an imaginary, softball-sized nut.
“Then they catch a tire, but it breaks their line. Then they catch a bulldozer and ride it into town at nine miles per hour.”
“Wow. A bulldozer! Does that break their line too?”
“No—”
Hope rejoins us, negotiating the stairs while pulling on her big fleece gloves.
“Are we gonna be late?”
“No, Hopie, we’re good,” I say.
James is acting out each of the dead animals.
“This is the pigeon…” Arms back and neck out. “And this is the salmon.” A graceful, statued body curve.
We start the walk to school again.
We pass utility workers chipping branches, newly trimmed from one of the huge oak trees that line our street. They pause their work as we go past, and we wave in acknowledgement.
Hope has closed her eyes while being led around the mulch chips, but did not choose to open them again as we regained the clear path on the other side.
“What are you doing, Hope?” Her dad said as he held her hand and slowed down for a patch of ice. “You can open your eyes now. “
Hope smiles and flops her head around, keeping her eyes squinted.
“I’m pretending to be a dead possum!” She shouts, “Look how I am floating in the flood!”
“Well, that’s great,” her dad says, “but dead possums don’t usually get to school on time!”
Hope snaps back to attention as we cross the street.
“Mom? Can I tell you what else they caught? “
“Sure James, I can’t wait to find out,” I tell him

I once found $20 in a laundromat. My mother told me to ask around to people if they had lost any money and no one had. Then she said: put it in your pocket. So I did. Then she told me to buy something for someone else with the money and only keep a little of it for myself. It sounded marvelous to me, this idea that found money should be used to make someone else happy. So I did. I bought my dad a birthday present and felt pretty damn good to be able to do so.

Now we see it all the time: reality renovations, make wishes for kids, lavishness for the less fortunate…like money and dreams-made-real come from these all-powerful grand corporations. But who teaches us to give? How do we learn to prioritize and utilize this underused capacity? It is just a personality flaw that we just want to hoard and not share?

One thing I am learning to do this year is create real and often step-by-step opportunities for my kids to give. For the little ones: to help them make lists, make or buy presents with others in mind, wrap and tag, and give. Actually give. Other folks stuff. That they would like.

For my older kids, I am sending money to them expressly to be used for giving. And enough money so that they can be specific and feel that capacity stretch and grow and empty with each gift given.

The best feeling, for me is when a gift given can truly represent/respect a receiver’s personality/time/place/work in the world. And while that’s great, we also have to show our children (nieces, nephews, grandchildren, foster children, etc.) the steps we take to get there.

Finally, ANY time a child gives you something as a gift…ACCEPT IT. GRACIOUSLY. Truly thank them and the respect the capacity from where it came. The more we work on this process, no matter the season, the more it will become a natural action.