Thursday, May 21, 2009

Perspective is Everything

Elise has been making a self-portrait out of perler beads this evening. Over dinner, she told us that she wants to iron it and give it to Rista. You know, so that Rista can still remember what Elise looks like when she's not alive anymore. (Yes, she's working on figuring out this whole death thing.)

So I said, "Oh, Honey, I think she'll like having a portrait of you, but you're going to live to be an oooollllllld lady."

Her reply?
"Really?! I'm gonna finally be thirty THREE?! Cool!!"

I mean, she knows that I'm 34hundredthousandmillion, so 33 sounds just about right for "old lady".

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

choke *splutter*

If 33 is OLD, what am I?

xxSunshine

(I know, older than stinkin' DIRT.)

Linda said...

Kids have such an interesting perspective on age. I love asking my kidlets here to guess my age. I have gotten everything from "My older sister is 18 and you look older than her so I guess you are 19." to "You have to be at least 150." A certain young child of my own once stood up in a very public place and announced to anyone who would listen, "My mama will tell you she is 35, but she is really at least 45." I was 3. She was four.

Thirty-three is a pretty cool age. Enjoy life in that proximity.

Aunt Linda

Chicago Sarah said...

Ouch.
heehee

ajjacobson said...

Two things: (1) One of my earliest years at the Waldorf school, I told one of my students and his little sister that I was 64 (I was probably 20 at the time). Three years later, another child asked my age, and the same boy was within hearing range, and answered, "Miss Amy's 64!" When I said, "But I've been 64 for some years now; I think I may have grown to 67" this boy was so surprised! It had never occurred to him that his teachers had birthdays too! All his life, his parents and teachers looked pretty much the same every year. Why would I not continue to look and be 64?
(2) With the whole death thing, I think it's fairly common between 5 and 7 for awareness and a basic understanding of death to kick in. One of my all-time favorite memories of working with kids was (also at the Waldorf school) with two 1st graders, both 6 years old, playing some make-believe game. And in the middle of their game, quite unexpectedly, one boy turned to the other and said, "Matt, I hope I die before you do. Because I just couldn't imagining ever living my life without you in it." And I almost burst into tears right then and there. Last week, this little boy (who is now taller than me!) graduated 8th grade, and he and Matt are still best friends, and it's one of those stories about the innocent truths of children, etc. etc. but I tear up every time I think of it!