When Life Gives You Lemons . . . Give Them to Your Kids

From behind me, there came a low, painful cry. I turned around to see Andrew standing in the middle of the living room, his hands were covered in bright red, his chin and half open mouth were dripping with crimson. I calmly stood up and reached my fingers into his sticky mouth, saving his burning tongue from the Fireball I had heard Mollie giving to him a few moments earlier.

I laughed, asked him if it tasted good, then offered it back to him. He accepted. A few seconds later, the fire alarm rang and I was again pulling the goopy sphere from his mouth. One alarm later, all that remained was the sweet interior of the diabolical treat. We washed his hands and ‘The Boy’ continued on his merry way, repeating to Mollie my warning that ‘we don’t bite Fireballs.’

Until he began to cry again. I listened from downstairs as he explained to Mommy that “fireball got dirty.” I can only assume it fell on the carpet at the top of the stairs. Then, as though lessons learned were for lesser men, he asked for another.

I don’t yet have a moral to my story, nor a direction in which I intend to head, but this whole episode struck me as something that needed to be shared. Perhaps I am amused by the reckless abandon (of course with all heed paid to the child’s safety) with which a parent can allow their child to explore and experience the world. It would have been easy enough to take the hot candy from Andrew, throw it away, and wonder aloud why Mollie would have given him such a treat. But that’s not any fun. It doesn’t promote an acceptance and enjoyment of things that may be uncomfortable, yet surprisingly satisfying at the same time.

Lemons. How many of you parents have been sitting down to dinner at your favorite restaurant when your infant child reaches for the bright yellow atop your glass of water? What did you do? For both of our children, Mollie and I have granted their wish, allowing them to taste the lemon. The end result is always amazing. The child pulls away from the sour taste, scrunching their face into a sour pucker. A moment later, they recover and lean forward for another taste.

With Andrew, this would continue until Mollie or I remembered that the lemon, mixed with milk, seemed to accelerate his all too common practice of reverse-eating. With Anna, there has never been a reason to stop. She will munch on a lemon until the cows come home . . . a very strange site in a Chili’s . . . or until it is time to give her some ‘real food’ to eat.

A child’s exploration and discovering of their world is amazing to watch. This thing rattles, that thing makes a loud noise when I bang it on the floor, the other thing growls and yelps when I grab onto it. As they continue their learning adventures, they develop favorites and the occasional aversion. Annaliese loves to play with the TV remotes. I cannot figure out why. Andrew, having received and finished a much more succulent treat from his mother, just went running into the kitchen yelling, “I want another one!”

They were probably a good buy. Aldi had a bag of some 50 ‘freezer pops’ for sale . . . you know the kind, long, plastic sleeves you can never quite open as you struggle to tear into them with your teeth? The funny thing about them is Mollie probably likes them as much as Andrew; she is the one who usually suggests they partake of them. ‘The Boy’ is just a happy tag-a-long.

My little tag-a-long is about to start daycare. This Monday, Annaliese will wander alone into the vast world. And I will be left home, without a child to tease, teach or treat. It is somewhat unsettling to think that for much of the next twenty one years, she (and Andrew) will be reliant upon others to raise and teach them throughout the daylight hours. Not that I have any plans to abandon my part, but so much of the rest of their youth will be spent away from home. Will those I entrust them to give them the same freedom of curiosity, encouraging them to take adventurous risks as they learn and grow? Or will they . . . I must stop. This is getting depressing.

I do know of one great adventure of exploratory significance that is soon approaching. Anna is turning one. As is tradition, she will be allowed the opportunity to excavate a large concoction of flour and chocolate that will be laid before her. Andrew made such a mess. I can only imagine my rebel-daughter making an even bigger one.

Which reminds me . . . I need to make a cake!