Weekend Coffee Share: This silly scaredy-cat
If we were having coffee today, I’d sip sparkling water since I’ve already had my daily coffee.
I’d inquire how you’re doing, asking as few or many follow-up question as you seemed interested in fielding.
It might take me a little while to figure out what to say about my own week. After all, I already told you about my younger son’s growing ability to communicate with spoken words, my new job, and my brother’s impending graduation. What’s left to say?
I’d probably tell you about my surprising reaction to the movie Krampus. If you’d polled me right after I left the theater last night, I’d have described it as grim, but not necessarily scary. And yet, I’d say with the hint of a smile, I was filled with dread when I drove up to my house and saw all the lights were off. I walked up to the front porch ready to turn on inside lights as quickly as possible, but opened the door to the darkness, looked at the first lamp ten feet away and said, “Hell, no!” I quickly closed the door and began strolling around my neighborhood, returning home only when my husband told me he was moments away.
I wouldn’t take offense if you laughed at me. I’d still be laughing at myself, too! In my thirty years of enjoying horror movies, I’ve never had this extreme of a reaction after watching one. I certainly didn’t expect it from Krampus!
I’d wrack my brain for anything else to share. I might tell you about my first parent-teacher conference as the parent of an elementary school student. Two years ago, I was offended by the very existence of report cards. This time around, I saw Li’l D’s report card as a useful indicator of what my son’s lovely teacher witnesses. As she walked me through his first-term report card, it was clear to me we see lots of the same things.
(Disregards many instructions? Does things his way? Communicates well and always wants to share his every thought with everyone around him? Yep, that’s my boy.)
It was also clear that the report card was not implicitly ghastly, but more of a useful communication tool. Did it measure the things most important to me, like compassion, curiosity, or wonder? Not by a long shot! But it did tell me how D’s doing in certain quantifiable areas, and help me understand how I can better guide his learning in those areas.
I would search for a moment or two before shaking my head and saying that’s it … and, grinning, reporting that I’m already looking forward to meeting next week.