Chivalry Lives

Sometimes, you get such an interesting perspective on your own life from listening to your kids talking to each other. At least, I do.

This evening, we were in the MamaVan, driving across town with my iPod on, playing tunes the kidlets hadn't been around for the first time: Sinead O'Connor, Lisa Loeb. And I was singing along, as I do. This in itself shouldn't be torture; I have been told by disinterested parties that I have a nice singing voice. The scene went something like this:

Bunny: (skeptically and a bit dramatically) Mama. Are you singing?

Me: Well, yes. I like to sing.

Bunny: (very dramatically) But that's torture! That's horrible! How can you do that?!?

Pony: (quietly, in contrast to Bunny's loudness, and perhaps so I don't hear) You can't do that. Mama doesn't tease us, so you can't tease Mama.

Bunny: (immediately stopping the histrionics and putting on an arranged expression of remorse) Sorry Mama.

Of course I said it was okay, and that I appreciated the apology, but I was surprised. I don't think of myself as "the one who doesn't tease," because I think of myself as "the one who is not as fun as Daddy." From this little snippet of insight, maybe the fact that I don't tease is actually something the girls value. I was struck by how deeply they felt the Golden Rule imperative--so that my two girls--my two silly and funny and delightful and happy girls--immediately responded to my being teased as something inappropriate. I was very touched, and my dried and shriveled up heart got a little bigger.

I do love these girls (I know, it's a big secret, isn't it?) and they continue to delight and amaze me, even at their advanced ages. They are really growing up, leaving childhood behind, and embracing the larger world as it opens up to them. But it looks to me like they are bringing some of the best of childhood along with them as they grow.