It’s a dark, damp, dreary December Monday in Toronto, and it would be so easy for me to write about how hard life is, not just at the start of a Canadian winter, but in general in the challenging world we live in. I have a “blog notes” folder in my phone where I jot ideas down all the time (sometimes in the middle of the night!). When an idea comes to me, I don’t want to forget! As I read some of my recent notes this morning, I knew I had to write, but none of the topics, most full of deep thoughts, inspired me. I’ve been writing about some heavier topics lately, and I realized I really need to lighten up a bit!
My thoughts keep going back to the slightly absurd conversation I had with my 8-year-old daughter last night. I’ve written about Nessa before. She is a ray of sunshine – full of energy and ideas, kind, generous and always amusing.
As I did with my older two children, I have been reading the Harry Potter books with Nessa every night at bedtime. And when I say reading, yes, I am the parent who really gets into it, with voices and accents and sound effects. We are only in the middle book 2, and I think Nessa enjoys this nightly activity.
But, she is only eight, and at times she gets distracted, or confused, or just plain silly. Just as I was reading about the first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, with none other than Gilderoy Lockhart, Nessa asked me a question:
“Mommy, if I had a play date with my friend – if my friend came over at 11:00 am and left at 4:00 pm, how long would my play date be?”
Before I could even respond, she continued, “No, don’t tell me. Hang on. Oh, five hours!”
Okay, I said, and as I was about to continue to read, she then said, “What do you think Professor Lockhart looks like? I have an idea in my head.”
This is Nessa. Full of ideas. And random thoughts. And questions. The words and phrases and questions that come out of her head are so amusing that a few members of my family created a texting chat group we call “We Love Nessa.” There is so much content that I could probably have quite the busy feed on X/Twitter!
Last week: “I wish dogs could live a long time (as she hugged our dog). Like us. To 100. I know of a person who lived to 205.” I asked her who, and she responded, “Abraham’s father (as in the Jewish patriarch, who she must have learned about in school). How did he do that?”
And here’s one that makes me both smile and yet also question how smart my child is…. I reminded her a couple months ago that she was going home with her friend that day because there was a half day of school. I said, “Nessa, school ends at noon tomorrow,” and she then responded with, “But they told us school ends at lunch.” And when, I asked her, when is lunch? Her response – 12:00. “Yes, noon,” I said.
Her question: “What’s that?”
In our digital age, it’s almost too easy to jot down a conversation and share it, or to snap a photo of a moment in time, that you can save in your phone. Or sometimes, your child says or does something that you don’t want to savour, and yet, you don’t need to write it down to remember.
Take my 14-year-old, for example, who no longer feels the need to keep a routine bedtime. It was 12:08 AM. Yes, the time is seared into my brain. Unlike much of my family, I like to go to bed early. So at 12:08 AM, I’m typically asleep.
“Mommy, mommy, mommy,” Julia yelled into my dark bedroom.
Of course I popped up, thinking something was wrong. Her voice sounded concerned, or at least it did to me, in my semi-comatose state.
“I can’t find a towel. Where can I get a towel?”
I will not quote exactly how I responded or where I told her she could find a towel. I understand that being a parent is a 24-hour job. From the moment they are born, no matter how deep a sleep you are in, there is a small piece of you that is always awake and ready to help your child. But not with a towel at 12:08 AM. Or to listen to Taylor Swift’s final concert at almost 1:00 AM.
Or, in the case of my 17-year-old son, to hear a play-by-play, at 1:30 AM, of some amazing overtime goal or a really bad trade during baseball’s off season.
Here’s a few more “We Love Nessa” moments that I hope will make you smile:
On a plane this year, overnight flight, across the Atlantic Ocean, “Are we in space now?”
Following a cereal party in French class at school (no idea what they did), and she wanted me to guess her favourite cereal. “It starts with the letter S, and the first word is ‘Cinanum.’” (Think on that one for a while, and no, the answer is not synonym.)
She tasted a (beef) Corn Dog recently. She ate it, thought about it and said, “I don’t think I liked it. It tasted almost vegetarian.”
Sometimes we just need to smile. Re-reading the texts I shared about Nessa definitely puts a grin on my face. I hope reading this makes you smile too. Especially on a dark, damp and dreary December day.
