Through the Eyes of a Child

The Hare decided to go ultra short for gymnastics (Just like Emma Watson)

Most of the topics The Hare is interested in are books, games, gymnastics, school and friends. Although, last year, there were a few interesting talks about four-letter-words written in the class bathroom. There are teachable moments everywhere, and the bad words gave us a window to explain vandalism as well as inappropriate vocabulary. When The Hare is frustrated about having a disagreement with a friend, we are able to talk about compassion or forgiveness and not just about communication skills. The Tortoise has asked us more direct questions in the last couple of years about homosexuality, marriage and abortion. But even at twelve and thirteen, I think it is important to first ask them, “What do you think?” before answering. That way you know where their heart and head is and not give them more information than they are ready for right now.

However, it’s hard to know how  or when to talk about things like religion or world-views in a way that is honest, informative and interesting, especially if those topics don’t ever come up in normal conversation. So, for the most part, we just have to live an exemplary life. A life that projects the kind of perspective we hope our children will develop.

A few nights ago, The Hare and I were watching an episode of HGTV’s Design Star. Throughout the show, different decorators are interviewed, giving a few personal details about their life. It’s a way for the viewers to get to know the contestants outside of their design work, perhaps even give us a better understanding of their design style. In this particular episode, one of the male designers made a comment about how excited his husband and adopted son are to see him on television.

Within seconds The Hare turned to me and said, “I’m glad he’s married and has a son. It’s not good to be alone.”

“I agree,” I said surprised by her comment, “And it sounds like his family is very proud of him.”

A few more minutes passed while we watched commercials. Then The Hare spoke again.

“You know, I didn’t even know he was gay until he said that. I just knew gay people were the same as everybody else.”

“You are totally right, ” I said proudly, ” they are the same as you and me.”


Sundays Just Got Holier

Me: “Does that look like a water spot above the kitchen table?”

DW: “Yeah, but I’m sure it was from when the kids overflowed the toilet.”

Me: “So you don’t think it’s a leak?”

DW: “Nope.”

A month later.

Me: “I think that spot is getting bigger. Maybe there really is a leak.”

DW: “You’re just paranoid. It’s always been that size.”

A month later.

Me: “That is definitely bigger!”

DW: “It’s not bigger! It’s just a stain and I’ll fix it this summer.”


Me: “Honey, I know you are golfing but could you tell me how to turn off the water to the house?”

DW: “WWHY? What did you do?”

Me: “I’m all wet and looking at a hole in our ceiling above the kitchen table.”

DW: “I’m on my way home.”

Prior to my phone call, The Hare and I were enjoying a quiet Sunday afternoon. She was finally feeling like herself again after battling a stomach virus. We had spent several days watching hour after hour of HGTV. Two of our favorite shows are Holmes on Homes and Holmes Inspection. While The Tortoise was sitting at our kitchen bar, I noticed a small water bubble forming on the ceiling above our kitchen table.

“Do you see water up there?” I said pointing.

“Maybe,” replied The Hare squinting.

“I’m gonna check it out, come hold the table for me.”

“OH NO!” The Hare panicked, “Holmes says where there’s a drip, there’s a flood!”

“Don’t be silly, it’ll be fine, I promise.”

Standing on our kitchen table, I could definitely see that there were two water bubbles clinging to our ceiling. The Hare stood directly below.

PLEASE Mommy, don’t touch it!”

After DW pulled out the wet dry wall

I gingerly raised my hand to the ceiling and started to brush off the drops of water. Suddenly the ceiling burst open, dumping about a gallon of mucky water all over me, the table and The Hare. She started screaming and running frantically through the house, trying to escape the crime scene.


“Hare! It isn’t gushing anymore, it’s okay. You’re just wet”

It’s a flood! It’s a flood!” She continued to scream, crouching at the top of the stairs, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, “We have to evacuate. RIGHT. NOW.”

It took me a few minutes to assure her that there was no more water. (And convince her she was not going to get a virus from being doused in toilet water.) It also didn’t appear to be a pipe, but I turned off the water just to be safe. Everything within 4ft of the table was wet. While I was mopping it up, The Tortoise came home.

“Holy crap!” she exclaimed.

Literally,” said The Hare.

“Well,” The Hare continued,”I guess you were right. It was a leak.”

All three of us started to laugh, but then I panicked. Grabbing their hands, we knelt face to face.

“Everybody put your hands in the middle and repeat after me,” I said.

It felt like we were in a football huddle about to break for our next play.

Me: “I solemnly swear”

The girls: “I solemnly swear”

Me: “That I will not say anything hurtful, sarcastic, or insulting to Daddy”

The girls repeated again.

“And above all, I will not tell Daddy ‘I told you so‘ “.

A few giggles erupted, but they complied. We quietly stayed in our huddle.

“Is that it?” whispered The Hare,” ‘cuz it feels sorta unfinished.”

“Amen,” I responded.

“Amen? Why’d you say that?” asked The Tortoise.

“Well, duh,” said The Hare, “it’s Sunday!”