Bug, my youngest, just began kindergarten. He's been in day care for a couple of years, but this is "real school." Big kid stuff. Not for the fainthearted. Daughter is in high school, so of course is very experienced in the matters of the schoolyard. Older siblings are supposed to guide the younger ones, I understand. I didn't have an older sibling, so I had to wing it growing up. I don't recall imparting much knowledge upon my younger siblings, either. But the other night at dinner, I got to witness it firsthand:
We are discussing school in general. I'm not paying too much attention to what exactly is being said until I hear, "...and if anyone tells you to hold onto your tongue and say 'apple', do NOT do it." Daughter says this in the way we tell him not to get in a car with a stranger; not to cross the street without an adult; not to eat anything he doesn't read the ingredients of - as if it will kill him. As if nothing in all 13 years of public schooling is more important.
"Why?" he asks. Of course he does, my curious boy. He asks why stars go supernova.
"Trust me. Just..." she trails off, shakes her head solemnly, and waves her hand, as if the thought of this occurring is too much to bear.
They're so cute. Daughter would kill me for saying that; she's way past the cute ages. I think it's such an adorable, sweet moment. I giggle. I suppose my mother had these moments, but I don't remember ever being such a helpful sibling.
