Your Face & Freezing

"Gee, I hope your face doesn't freeze like that." And, that's all it would take.  It was as if an internal combustion gauge popped off as those words cascaded intently and with purpose out of her mouth.  Boiling within myself, I would hear this phrase on many occasions throughout my childhood.  And, she knew that's just what I needed.  Firing up.  Re-vamping.  Riling only to release, re-think and return out a better me.  It is here that I would like to interject that eighth grade in its entirety had enough hormones & hate that she may have even said this phrase on a daily basis.  Like handing me Flintstone's version of the puberty vitamin, these words served their nutritional attitude adjusting purpose. Oh, did I loathe the sound of those words. My boys are only 8 and 6. I haven't crossed that line of "Oh.my.goodness.  I just became my mother."  Nope.  I have yet to say these classically coined Mom-to-Meghan words.  I kinda have a sense I won't either.  Wait.  Nobody write that in blood.  The teenage years will be here before I know it.  The proof.  The pudding.  Nobody hold their breath.

I like taking the little girl of me and bringing her into the world I know today.  When I say little girl, I mean the way I thought. The way I dreamed. What I loved.  And, yes, even what shaped me as I was my boys' ages.  I find reassurance in her.  I like and often lean on the input of my little self as I trek down this path of motherhood.  The little girl Meghan provides with me such a clearer vision of right when I take the time to stop and listen.

My youngest, Casey McGill, is on the cusp of becoming lost in the world of books like his big brother.  His confidence is rising.  How do I know?  Well, the intonation and inflection in his voice when he reads, of course. "Go on!  Go back on home!"  Mr. Clapper shouts. You know then their reading wings are flapping.  An emotion has successfully been inferred and performed all from the transferral of one dimensional letters connected  to a young mind at the precipice of literary bliss.

Above are 2 of the books he read to me last week.  On the floor in our living room, with belly-to-carpet and legs twisted behind us like branches in the air, Casey found such joy  in comparing 2 of the main characters from each of the books.  These characters happened to play the role of the antagonist.  Leave it to Casey to find the drama.

It is here that I want to shout "thank you" at the top of my lungs for great children's book illustrators.  Do they even know how pivotal they are in the road to raising young readers?  Illustrators, your pictures are dissected by little eyes in hopes to find connection to a world full of new chunks and blends.  Your gifts bring life to their story; your artistic talents glean for them the missing pieces to their whole.

Casey was head over heels in love with the faces of Eugenia Lincoln from "Mercy Goes For a Ride".  He cackled loud and long at her crinkled, closed up ways.  He retorted on more than one occasion throughout the story how horrible he would think it would be to have to be around her.

Likewise, did he for Mr. Clapper in "Coconut Comes To School".  He used words like "sour" and "so ugly" to speak of him.  He loved pointing out ways that his actions matched his face, too.

Both Eugenia and Mr. Clapper were humans caught up in control.  They were light stealers.  They wanted no part of anything collective or creative.  Casey was quick to speak poorly of their decisions throughout the stories.  He even cheered and physically threw his hands in the air at the end of Coconut Comes to School when Mr. Clapper took a peaceful step toward happiness. He said, "Mom, check out his face.  It's not ugly anymore."  The illustrator, Ivan Bates, even makes vivid use of warm yellows to reflect out Mr. Clapper's transformation.

Wouldn't you know it?  Old man Clapper had to experience turmoil, fear and loneliness before his turnaround.  Yes, he was trapped and completely had zero control over his rescue.  And, well, the character he had the highest hate towards was the one to come to his aid and save him.

{notes from my prayer time on Tuesday, 9/3}

Be a giver of light. Keeping the collections of sour and sullen inside will show.  One way or another, it will.  Don't be a Eugenia Lincoln.  The Mr. Clappers are out there.  And, all it takes is a little light and a lot of love.

"Gee, I hope your face doesn't freeze like that."  I pray it doesn't, Mom.

.mac :)