To those friends and strangers out there with feral children: I get it now. I am sorry if I ever looked at you with that silently judging eye....you know what I am talking about. When your kid dumped the cat food into the litter box or climbed up onto the piano keys to practice jumping, I know it isn't because you haven't tried. I realize now that you are as good as they come and yet somehow, maybe because of an awkward moon phase or too many stars misaligning with dwarf planets, you gave birth to a human-like beast and you are simply doing the best with the hand you were dealt. So, you resign yourself to the chasing and picking-up and heavy sighs and a few extra glasses of wine each week because you are raising something far more savage and barbaric than the average mom deals with. I am so, so sorry for any scorn you may have felt. Rest assured, I get it now.
So, the pastor at my church has a nephew who she says is a bit like Solomon: very inquisitive.
Isn't that nice? So much kinder than the words I would choose. This is why she is the minister; she knows how to dish out grace, heaping it on where all I choose to see is chaos and destruction and OW! matchbox cars dropping on my head from the staircase above....SOLLY!
I would argue however, that this goes beyond simple inquisitiveness. You know that scene in Singing in the Rain where Gene Kelly is tap dancing with his umbrella and he starts splashing the water in the gutter with one foot? Yeah, imagine Solomon on top of my piano reenacting that scene, only it looks less like tap dancing and more like the bar scene in Pete's Dragon where the people in the bar are singing "A dragon, a dragon, he says he saw a dragon" and as they are drunkenly dancing on top of the bar they start kicking all the beer bottles off the counter and onto the floor, making a huge, smelly mess.
|There had been music where he was standing.....|
Even more recently than this, I heard crying in the basement. It was a fairly terrified cry so I went down to investigate. The door to the laundry room was locked but when I went to check the utility room where a light was on, no one was there. The crying was coming from inside the dark, locked laundry room. I got the key down from where we hang it, went in and found Solomon standing on top of the washing machine.
"What the??? How did you even get in here?" I asked as I scooped him up into a big hug.
Later, as I was folding the clothes, I turned around and there he was again:
|Yes, that would in fact be the Clorox that he is resting his hand on.....|
|You can see his little face looking through the tiny hole that he is using to sneak in from the utility room.|
Sigh. Inquisitive is only the tip of the iceberg.