with apologies to the Pixies
Prithee my dear,
Why are we here?
We go to sleep
As breathing flows
My mind secedes
I… um…. breed.
I have two children. They are boys. They are loud, demanding, wild and crazy, snub-nosed, wide-eyed, chicken-haired, skinny-legged, superhero-wannabe, lightsaber-brandishing and (did I say loud?) noizy. Fortunately, they’re cute, and cute covers a multitude of sins.
Wanna see what they look like?
This is Fisher. He will be 6 in May. Here he is displaying a complex artistic creation involving the exploits of various superheroes (including, at upper R, the amazing Larry-Boy) in contention with unspecified forces of evil.
Fisher thinks about good and evil a lot. A LOT. He is working hard on developing his own moral code. Since I’m a terrible mother, I keep telling him to question received wisdom (i.e., what he hears at Wednesday night church is good/bad) and make determinations for himself (e.g., Uncle Benjamin is not a Christian… does that make Uncle Benjamin bad? The answer is "no," if you’re wondering.). He abhors violence of any sort and spends much of his time explaining his elaborate plans for capturing bad men and preventing them from doing harm without resorting to physical violence. (Many of these plans involve SWACKing the guns right out of the bad men’s hands with something made of metal. He does not specify what that something might be.)
Fisher also likes reading (currently, he’s chewing away through the Thornton Burgess series), Wilco, Luke Skywalker and cinnamon rolls. He is a vegetarian, though he will eat fish for special occasions (and fortunately, it’s not too hard to convince him any given day is a special occasion). When he grows up, he’s going to be a scientist and move away from home. (The scientist part I knew about. The moving away part, he informed me of this morning: "Mama, wanna know something really sad?" "What, honey?" "When I grow up, I’m going to move out of yours and Papa’s house and get my own house." "Oh honey, that is sad." (trying not to let my calculation of years show on my face) "But don’t worry, Mama. I won’t move too far away. Maybe just around the corner." (At which point, Rhys pipes up, "Mama, I not gonna move away from you ever. I just gonna go fight."
Here is Rhys in one of his favored outfits. The others are his knight suit, his Spider-Man sunglasses and his Robin, the Boy Wonder getup.
Rhys thinks about good and evil a lot, too. Rhys is good. What he wants is good. Anything that opposes him is evil (or "badguy," as Rhys puts it). His is a simple and almost neo-conservative worldview. That he will grow up to be a conservative, neo- or otherwise, is one of his Papa’s and my abiding fears.
When he grows up, a state of affairs which is a frequent topic of conversation for Rhys, he is going to be a knight. Not a soldier (we don’t allow guns at our house). A knight. With a sword. And preferably a treasure of some sort. I suggested to Jim that perhaps Rhys will become an SCA member, otherwise known as a RenFairy. Which would be fine… we sort of have leanings in that direction ourselves.
Besides attacking Bad Guys and defending the Integrity of the Kingdom, Rhys’ interests include Citizen Cope (his rendition of "Bullet and a Taw-get" is pretty freakin’ cute), Disney’s Robin Hood and Sleeping Beauty, Legos (especially Knights of the Kingdom) and building castles with his blocks (sense a theme here?). Perhaps he will carry on the proud family tradition of medievalism.
Anyway… I breed. I bred. And I am fiendishly, treacherously, mama-tigerly proud of the results.