The party went off well. It's always good to see the roommates and their families (at least once the planning stress is out of the way) and they made happy noises about the food. I am eating the remnants of the trifle. It didn't turn out quite as planned. For fear of its being rubbery, I cut the amount of gelatin and the result was a bit soupy. Such are the perils of inventing recipes for food you plan to serve to guests the next day. When I put it away, though, I poked a few more ladyfingers into the soupy layer and now it's perfect. Here I sit, listening to fireworks at the high school and enjoying my leftover red white and blue trifle.
But my point here tonight is that I'm curious about George. Actually, I'm curious about the man with the yellow hat. When will he realize that Curious George cannot be left alone?
In case you haven't read the Curious George books lately, the plots run like this: the man with the yellow hat tells George to stay out of trouble. MWYH leaves. George makes trouble. Big trouble. But he also does something useful, and everyone decides that the useful thing mitigates the awfulness of the troublesome things.
It makes me want to scream. It makes me want to take my ORM (Over-involved Reader's Megaphone, a handy gadget I will invent someday which will allow me and my fellow over-involved readers to shout warnings and advice to book characters. Like: "Hey, Anna K! That guy is Trouble with a capital T and that rhymes with V and that stands for Vronsky the Villainous!" The deluxe model will have a translation chip so I won't have to learn Russian.) and bellow into the pages: "Nooo! He cannot stay out of trouble! He is constitutionally incapable of staying out of trouble! Supervise him or take him home to the jungle!"
Alas, MWYH never listens, and none of his neighbors seem overly troubled by George's shenanigans. Me, though, I'm troubled. Maybe I should get a life. Or a better ORM.
MWYH makes me think about mothers on the playground and the range of mother involvement you can see there. I've moved on the spectrum, from breathing down my firstborn's neck to giving my three sons lots more room to be on their own. Always, always, I've second-guessed my choices. I suppose it's because there's something to be said for wherever you land on the continuum. My oldest had astounding language skills in part because he spent hours every day engaged in conversations with me. He also had a lot of trouble realizing that I did not exist to entertain him, and that sometimes he needed to wait for my attention. My youngest plays beautifully by himself and with his brothers (usually -- he succumbs to the occasional urge to beat the 4yo about the head with a Lego structure), but I am afraid I'm so accustomed to his independence that I respond too slowly to him when he honestly does need me.
In contrast to Curious George, however, my youngest has neither flooded the house nor completed a solo space flight. So I'll worry about that another day.
Notes in closing:
1) Moderation in most things, including attention paid to children.
2) Do not purchase or even check out of the library those vapid CG books based on the TV series.
3) Must keep plugging away at ORM. Imagine the possibilities!
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