My wife and I have held it together through steely will and daily schedules composed with military precision and taped to the kitchen counter every morning at 7 a.m. And no, we are not shy with screen time. After a certain hour of the day, the kids are allowed to sit two inches from a big TV. Later in the evenings there is Love Island: Australia and knitting; there is Better Call Saul and gin. How are the kids coping? That’s what my relatives want to know. And they’re right to wonder. The emotional life of a child during a crisis like this is so hard to fathom. My son had a Zoom with his preschool class and the teacher asked them all to say how they were feeling. I listened attentively but they all basically said the same thing: Happy! They were happy. I smiled, profoundly relieved. William seems okay. He talks wistfully to me about when he will see his friends again; he burst into tears thinking of the stuffed animals left in our Brooklyn apartment; and he complained just this morning that mom and dad are working too much. But basically, he’s five. He plows ahead, searching for the next snack.
A seven-year-old is a more complicated case. The other day, without warning or any preparation from us, Vivian used the word coronavirus in a sentence. A sweet-hearted girl, she has recently been boiling with feeling: bouts of manic energy, displays of hyper-competitiveness, hysterical tears at irrational moments, all while maintaining a prevailing cool-girl pose that feels like attitude but I suspect is a kind of sublimated anger. Her birthday is Sunday. We were going to take her and three friends to a Korean spa. Instead we will be making her a sheet cake. If there’s any cake mix left at the supermarket. She’s going through something, in other words. And as I said, the other day she disappeared into a room. Here’s what she emerged with: a small, hand-made book (five pages, stapled together). The title: The Very Grumpy Baby. It’s a parable of madness.
In it, a couple gives birth to a grumpy baby. A baby who never smiles. A baby, she writes, who says, “I want to be evil.” On page two the parents consult a doctor. The baby is not sick, the doctor says. The baby simply doesn’t smile. But the parents continue to worry about their baby. By page three they have come up with a plan. They will themselves refrain from smiling. They will be as grumpy as their grumpy baby. After a week of this, the baby smiles. The end. Do you find this as chilling as I do? My wife and I maintain that we will all look back on this period with rose colored glasses, remembering the family time, the craft projects, the jolly dinners. We will laugh about it and reminisce and long for more togetherness. But that is not where we are. Right now we are here. Together. Wondering just how much longer this is going to last.
6 Easy Step To Grab This Product:
- Click the button “Buy this shirt”
- Choose your style: men, women, toddlers, …
- Pic Any color you like!
- Choose size.
- Enter the delivery address.
- Wait for your shirt and let’s take a photograph.
This product belong to duc-quynh