It occurs to me that Clover is the size of a grown hobbit. Better start increasing the ent-draught dosages…
Clover has an odd fear of skeletons, in that it is obviously artificial and based on depictions in media. I am sure it is most informed by Halloween specials of Little Bear than anything else. So when we read the books from my work, there is a strong reaction to what are very non-scary depictions of skeletons and bones in various configurations.
There is one exception to the fear, and that is the video made for Love Has No Labels.
Same Love was already one of Clover’s favorite songs, so we were glad that e really took to the message in the video, and e loves seeing the skeletons move, and then revealed as real people.
Last night I tried a little experiment. Clover watches videos on repeat, which may be poor parenting on my part, but I also like memorizing things so I allow it for certain videos (like one that examines bias and universal love…), so while C was watching it I opened one of our books and put it in front of em. I figured the positive feelings surrounding the video would carry over into curiosity with all those bones.
And it worked! Kinda, too well.
After five repeats of the video, e had discovered the “3D” glasses in the book, and somehow made the connection that wearing them made em Dr. Bonyfide.
“Hello, I am Dr. Bonyfide, how do you do?”
I showed em how to use the glasses with sections in the book. Later, we went for a walk around the ‘hood, and of course the glasses came along. Clover took a look around and saw some shoes hanging from powerlines, and suddenly needed to know how they had gotten there.
“Wait! We need to look around for… skeleton clues!”
Susan: Where does the jellyfish live?
Clover: At home.
Clover just figured out how to open the fridge. The beginning of an era…
Clover used to be so little…
Today Clover was using a chair to get flowers from a glass vase. When I told em to get down e started frantically trying to put the flower back in. I got scared, and reacted in a way that I knew would paralyze Clover, because it works on most humans: I yelled in a specific, scary way.
Clover cried and ran to Susan.
It is the most violent act I committed against em, and perhaps the most violent in all, aside from gravity or sharp corners. Nobody felt good about it, we were all left less happy.
I am observing this here for reference. Humans are fragile, wired for adversity, and ultimately lead meaningless lives with the exception of the connection we make with each other. As morbid as it sounds, I think it would have been better for Clover to cut eir hand on the vase.
Before Clover when to sleep, e took off eir socks and put on a scarf. Because that makes sense.
Trigger Warning: This post makes reference to child abuse and alcoholism.
I stopped drinking booze regularly a few months ago. But for years I’ve avoided drinking away from home. I wasn’t sure why that was, but I just thought of it: every person that beat me as a child was a drunk adult.
The reason I was thinking of it is because whenever anyone asks me if I would like a drink at some social function, instead of politely refusing, I would explain in constrained detail that I don’t drink in public. That was shorthand for me saying, “I am going to stay sober, because I don’t trust any of you, and I need to have some advantage if you are drunk.”
Of course I don’t distrust many folks, and I actively surround myself with people that I can rely on to a certain extent. But I don’t like it when people drink at social functions. “Social drinker” was the code-words my grandparents used to discuss their alcoholism, and because I don’t have the energy to check in with each person and seeing how they are doing in life in order to make an assessment, I’d rather just be able to check out of the whole ritual.
I prefer to drink alone, because I am often alone, and that is when drinking happens. It used to concern me, because drinking with friends, or to become uninhibited, is given a pass in this society. I don’t really enjoy either, because I like paying attention to people, and I like being uninhibited while sober. I realize now that it is a source of power for me, and also a privilege. I can do things that other people need chemical supplements to achieve.
One day (in a couple of decades) I hope to drink good wines and sake with Clover, and hopefully cultivate in em a snobbish disdain for cheap, tasteless liquor. But I will never put myself in a situation where I could easily justify hitting anyone, let alone a child. And since it doesn’t actually affect me socially, I won’t drink with groups of people, either.
Today Clover was sick, so e sat in my lap and we watched Little Bear videos together. Eir favorite one is probably Mother Bear’s Button. I was completely surprised when a minute into it, Clover just started saying it. Everything, every line, of each character. I have a good memory, and can often repeat lines back to folks verbatim, but I can’t recall that entire video. That is fascinating.
On the other hand, the day before, Clover was eating something and sneezed, biting down really hard on eir finger! It didn’t draw blood, but it did break the skin, and really freaked em out; e cried and hyperventilated for a few minutes. Susan and I took turns holding em so the other could silently bend over in laughter. It was hilarious! I am so sad for this little kid that mimic mannerisms after a single observation, but will also bite themselves sneezing.
Hahaha! Humans are funny. ^_^