Mom: What’s up with the string tied to everything? It’s a mess.
Gamma: Erm…
Dad: Did I ever tell you about how when I was bored when I was little my mom gave me yarn and I would stand in the corner for hours making spiderwebs between the curtain rod, two doorknobs and the handles on the dresser? Or how if the weather was good she’d send my brother and me outside where I’d hang bits of yarn from the fence for birds to make their nests from, and my little brother would follow me, picking the yarn back off the fence, and when we got to the end of the fence I’d think birds had already taken all the yarn, then we’d go back to the start of the fence and hang the same yarn back up again?
Gamma: Hehe.
Mom: Thanks for the backup, pal.
90% of my mother’s parenting consisted of ploys to get rid of us, and 10% of trips to OMSI. And yet I have fond memories of so much of it – drawing pictures in the kitchen on rainy days, wandering around the countryside, sitting in my uncle’s garden discussing life with his beagle.
i put on a puppet show for a friend of mine by sticking my fingers through the holes in the curtains of the hostel where we were staying. it was a very elaborate play, with funny voices and everything. and she said, “wow, you must have had a very lonely childhood”. which i guess i did. but i’m coming more and more to think that’s a good thing.
the trick, i think, of parenting, is finding the right mix of love and neglect aka freedom. i think of this when i see over-involved “concerned” parents planning every second of their kids’ days.
but yeah, not necessarily a bad thing.
The Coen brothers’ mom told them to go outside and play when it was thirty below zero (Fahrenheit). They didn’t think that there was anything odd about it. (Hint: wear warm clothes).
To my knowledge my mom didn’t fuss with any of her kids. She took care of business. My dad fussed quite abit more, and it could be very uncomfortable.
walk-through heart
with sound effects.
sound effect, i mean.
I used to make spider webs too…but I used entire rooms even the whole house from time to time. My mom used to crawl under to get around, my dad walked around with scissors and swore about it the whole time. All that made it so worth the effort.
A long time ago, in western New York State, our mother used to take us to the Albright-Knox Art Gallery. There was no walk-through heart, but you could take off your shoes and walk in a room with a mirrored floor, mirrored walls, mirrored ceiling. You could almost see yourself see yourself see yourself forever if you could look through the back of your head. And it was stinky from all the socks.
And that’s why they turned out the way they did, said the ham-fisted parablist. And they lived heavily even after.
I remember the walk-through heart. Also a Foucault pendulum, and reptiles. “Is it real?” my son’s friend asked about the impassive iguana.
The new OMSI is more expensive, but upgraded a lot. Haven’t been there. One of my son’s friends carpentered a lot of the exhibits.