The other changes I've noticed in my eldest are that his incessant talking has quieted. He used to chat non-stop about whatever entered his head. It often left me confused, trying to construct a line--or at least a thin flexible string--of logic and connection from whatever our last topic was to the present. He would bring up things that I could not believe he would remember; things that happened when he was two and three years old. These were not even things that would have been planted memories or family lore, those things talked about and reminisced about so that pretty soon the child mind cannot know whether the memory is the actual event or the construction of the mind's eye. Astonishing at times. So, his questions have slowed...his constant narration has ceased. His mind is still just as active and I have an even harder time trying to discern his references as there are now larger pieces left out along the way. He is overall quieter, still fights with his brother, and loves to make up jokes. Pretty good jokes at that. A few weeks ago it worked out for he and I to venture on an eventful hike together, just the two of us. We had been talking of summiting Wheeler Peak, the highest point in New Mexico for some time. On Labor Day the opportunity arose, the weather was good. His daddy couldn't join us as we hoped, but C still wanted to go for it and so it was mom-son time.
Well. Moms. If you ever, ever need to talk with your son, take him on a hike. We were out for 5 hours and C talked non-stop, just like he used to. I've heard that the male species doesn't do well with eye to eye contact--it can be threatening. Side to side talking works better, or discussions while doing something else like fishing works because it occupies their hands and allows them to open up in a non-physically confrontational way. I've seen this work with my husband. I've seen it work in the car, even. On that hike, C filled up that vastly open space with everything his little eight year old self was ruminating about.It makes sense biologically that male and female brains are programmed differently. Of course! Women gaze into eyes, feeling, making connection. Men have a task, they have a need to fix a problem. Come on, we all know it and isn't it time we accept these facts? And it's okay. Let's have realistic expectations, for goodness sake! I read a mostly excellent book called The Wonder of Boys that addresses these differences and needs. A recent Newsweek was devoted to the differences in development between the genders. Let's stop trying to fit the square pegs into the round holes. Let's all just stop expecting people to act outside of their brain biology. Not that dudes can't be sensitive and make eye contact. Or that women can't be warriors. But we really need a return to the authentic-self gender paradigm...though I'm not exactly sure when that happened....
Not entirely surprisingly, it turns out that C's concerns are so incredibly different than mine. I had figured that was the case, given that everyday I ask him in some new and creative way how his day was and for such a smart little guy, darn if he can't ever remember. Even if I phrase it as a specific question, such as who did you play with? What was the most interesting thing in your day? What was the worst part of your day? What did you learn in Spanish class? Same. Nada. I, for multiple reasons, have been concerned about his school experience and wanting to make sure things were going along well, appropriately; trying to understand the class dynamics; trying to understand how his reading is going. According to him, a straight-faced "fine."
Well, what he's concerned about is Star Wars. We talked for a good three hours about the various characters, which movie they were in, which team they were on, who were my favorites, who were his, how old I was when each movie came out. And on. And on. And questions about the film making, the direction, the story. The other two hours was about the Bugs Bunny/Looney Toones gang. Now, don't get the impression that we have a lot of screen time. Quite the contrary. But he was fascinated by the 'old fashioned' and still very funny cartoons. We'd gotten the complete collection of Looney Toones discs during a weak and nostalgic moment of WalMart shopping. He has questions about the animators, the production, the voices, the stories, the references. Way more--WAY more--than I know about, and way way more than I thought about when I was exactly his age watching them on Saturday mornings.
Many of his questions were about getting the stories right--especially Star Wars. Given the non-sequential release of the films and the fact that he's only seen three of the six movies, I think he was trying to get some details filled in. But he was busy categorizing the characters, placing them on the appropriate "team." He was categorizing things in that black and white, good and evil dichotomy that eight year-olds require. He was casting himself into those roles as well, trying on those people and seeing himself as a warrior, seeing what would be worth fighting for. What would be worth putting one's life on the line for? He already knows that (spoiler alert!) Darth Vader is Luke's father as part of cultural lore, but that they fight on opposite sides absolutely fascinates him. How on earth does Annikin become Darth Vader? Of course he's not seen that movie--too scary. Star Wars really is an archetypal movie; Jarjarbinx and Ewoks be damned!
And co-incidentally enough, as we went on our journey, my little warrior never once complained. I'm not saying this to brag...I'm saying it in surprised awe. The first 2 1/2 miles were a steady climb, and the last 2 were straight up. We took poles and paced ourselves. As we got higher up the mountain, the wind became fierce and the chill it brought was significant. We were prepared with jackets, etc., but there were moments where I thought I was going to get blown over. He bravely, steadily and constantly moved up that mountain, perhaps inspired by his own thoughts of his heroes. He had a few moments where he was scared, and he literally talked himself through it. He was ready physically and spiritually to test himself on that mountain. I was one heck of a proud and humbled mama bear, close enough to step in but far enough away to let him test himself.On our way back down, our anxieties melted away. The wind died. The day heated up to a pleasant warm. We were skipping our way down and laughing. Pure joy. And side by side we talked; I supported him just by being there in facing that mountain in the company of his heroes and villains, and I watched him succeed. And really, this was his doing--not mine. I can't take much credit on that one. But lesson on communication and priorities--learned.
