I decided when I made this blog that it would NOT turn into a mommy blog. It would be pretty easy for me to do considering how much I love to talk about my little monkey. It would also be such a great area for me to vent my continuous frustrations, confusion and learning experiences.
I do have to modify my decision to one degree: I will talk about my family only if something they do has something to do with my writing.
That said, my daughter made me think last night. I try not to do it when I can...but sometimes... ;)
I watched her taking her bath. I'm more company than participant in this activity anymore and I always enjoy the experience (Bathtub Tidal wave of '07 notwithstanding). Last night, she was playing with her toys and among them are several duckies. She loves them, I keep buying them, 'nuff said. She was sliding two duckies from her tub down into the water with her. She held them on the slope and said, "Into the pond!" and slid one in. After the little duck's dip, he was returned to his position on the slope where he proceded to have a conversation with the other duck about his trip into the pond. I can only assume that's what the conversation was since the only words I could really understand from baby babble were, "Hello" and "pond". It made me smile and ponder at what point in our lives creativity comes to the fore. Does everyone have it? Is my daughter just gifted with it due to genetics and some poor child out there will never have an experience like she often does with her toys? Or are children all given a window at this precious age in which they can either be encouraged to think, laugh, and dream and it is our job to nurture it lest it be lost forever? It makes me sad to think that some great, imaginative mind out there didn't recieve the nurturing they needed as a child and therefore lost this amazing gift. It makes me treasure my personal creativity (and my little one's(henceforth named Boos or Boosie)) so much more. I would be not only stupid to let my fear get in the way, but I would be wasting the love and effort someone once gave me to nurture this in me.
Prepare yourselves, my friends. Someday in the near future, you will see my name in ink.
"As God is my witness, as God is my witness they're not going to lick me. I'm going to live through this and when it's all over, I'll never be hungry again. No, nor any of my folk. If I have to lie, steal, cheat or kill. As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again!" (Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind)