One of the incredibly cool thing about having kids is that the most insane, bizarre and dare I say, absurd conversations are perfectly normal in their minds. My daughter Tessi brought me breakfast in bed this morning. Together she and I enjoyed a twenty minute discussion about different superheroes and tried to list which ones wore their undies on the outside of their pants. Soon it was too boring simply just to list them as there were a surprisingly large amount of them. We then chose torank them in order of our approval of their cool powers versus the "creep out" factor of seeing them in their knickers. We agreed that while be both really like Batman, his outside underwear really bothered us.
For the sake of this discussion you should know that Tessi has only seen the Adam West Batman and none of the more recent movies. This is mainly because I am unwillingly to explain the word codpiece to her just yet. I don't mind her knowing about codpieces. I am simply uninterested in answering questions about her using codpieces for News Day in her class. She has a wonderfully understanding teacher, but let's be honest with each other, there are limits.
Discussing Batman and his unmentionables of course led to directly to a discussion of Batgirl. We decided that Batgirl completely ruled the known universe because obviously she was going commando. It is a known fact that knickers show unseemly panty lines under a body suit. We didn't have time to bring the villians factor into the conversation as we both had to get dressed. I'm confident though, that if we did, we could have spent the entire morning critiquing the benefits of Catwoman and Poison Ivy's ensembles.
I love these conversations because they let me express all the weirdness that I keep bottled up inside. Sure, I do have close friends with whom I can share unusual thoughts. Sadly though, even with the most understanding of them, after a while you can see the shade of uncertainty slip down over their eyes. You can see that fleeting light in their eyes at the exact moment they start to question our entire conversation. "Wait, she was joking right? No one actually wonders if Princess Leia hid the plans in one of her hair buns and the whole time R2 D2 having them was just a decoy?" A quick flinch to jot their brain and remind themselves that, "This isn't a real conversation. No one seriously discusses the evolution of pizza delivery throughout the galaxy!"
Yeah...um...sure. HA, HA. Of course, it's just a joke. It goes without saying that I have never, ever spent an afternoon guessing how squirrels would fare if forced to become stenographers. For the record, I think they would be fine as the machine used isn't that terribly wide at all. I think the biggest problem to overcome would be their problems translating homenyms into their chirpy bird-like language to the machine's limited stroke language and then back to English. Also I think they would be disturbed when the lawyers chair squeaks. The competing sound must be murder on them.
This is where the true beauty of childhood comes into play. Children have no such disdain for the absurd. They not only accept and embrace it; they pick it up and run through the endzone with it. Only a kid will listen to you lament the lack of available time travel machines and counter with a plan to build one. Give them a few extra minutes and some glitter pens and they will plans ready for beta testing before the last cookie is gone.
Some adults like to muse that this is the innocence of the child at work. The purity of youth and its lack of confinements. Blah Blah. Personally I think that its proof that we all start out bat-crap crazy and the childhood is just a long drawn out process trying to explain, teach, correct or beat the crazy out of us. Clearly my parents failed to wring out all the drops of lunacy in me..hence my joy in weird things.
I once had a friend's very articulate three year old tell about his plans to create a wall out of M&M's. I casually mentioned that gravity might be a problem and asked how would he ensure the stability of the wall. He announced than he knew candies fell so he was using his spit to hold the M&M's together. He grabbed his older siblings Barbie doll and used the body to support the candy until the spit dried. As I was impressed, I praised him and offered the use of my hair scrunchie in his project. It was all I had to give him. Being unencumbered as he was by silly notions of practicality he took it. With a smile he propped it up against the spit candy wall like a tire. We both left the scene feeling important and a part of something bigger and more important than ourselves.
Cherish the weirdness, even if you don't have kids. It's the weirdness that keeps life interesting. Anyone can talk about why trees are green or how many servings of fruit a day one human being should have to stay healthy. It takes a special mind to carry on a conversation about spit M&M walls or the knickers of superheroes. You can decide for yourself if its the mind of a child or a crazy person.
