Musings on Parenting.
Viewing entries tagged Parenting Magazine Articles
According to William Secord, the leading authority on 19th century dog painting and the founder of the William Secord Gallery, "The English come by their affection for dogs honestly: when Charles II came to the throne in 1660, dogs enjoyed an unprecedented place in the Royal household, and he was inconsolable when one of them ran astray; Queen Victoria had as many as 75 dogs at her kennels at Windsor Castle. This Royal love for canines was reflected in all levels of English society - and just as Queen Victoria found solace in the love of a dog, so do the majority of English citizens today."
Tags: Pets, Articles on Parenting, Parenting Magazine Articles
Just like Mom did! That is why our family (hunting) dog lived at a hunting kennel a half - hour drive from our house. I'll bet Dad found a closer kennel, and she probably convinced him that it was better for the dog to be out in the really remote country. Her real concern probably was that the dog might find his way home.
I remember one Halloween, Mom was dressed in one of her belted, full-skirted, flowing pastel floral dresses. The front door bell chimed to announce another kid. She ran on cue toward the front door (nicely Pavlovian) to hand out lollipops. I was in the kitchen supplementing my sugar intake when I heard a primal scream. I dropped the bowl of Neapolitan ice cream, kicked the rotating door of the dining room and ran into our front foyer. It was fantastic!!! Even I couldn’t have done better! The dog had gotten the big salad bowl of lollipops and, one by one, eaten them all. All that remained at the crime scene were some spit-covered sticks and plastic covers. But these were well-strewn from the front foyer into the dining room to a spot on the floor where the big empty bowl was overturned. Maybe this was a pivotal event in my parent’s marriage, hmm. Maybe there was an ultimatum given that night. Overnight camp for dog in the country!
You may have guessed by now that we never did the total English thing of the photo or painting of us as a family with our beloved dog. It may have been deep in Dad’s subconscious to be even more English in nature than we already appeared, but it wouldn’t happen.
I wasn’t a normal girl, or maybe I was. I liked doing things that I thought boys liked to do. I liked building forts.
Tags: Parenting Magazine Articles, Child Rearing Styles, Articles on Parenting
I remember my first fort. It was built, by design, to be cramped in a corner of our yard where the neighbors couldn’t see. It was wedged between the lilac bushes that surrounded the side and end closest to the front of our house. My corner. It was a dark area where the sun didn’t hit and so grass didn’t grow. It was far from Mom’s flower garden with the charming stone path in its center. Her area in the back of the yard could be seen by anyone who might peer up the driveway from the street and enjoy the glorious color of all the flowers.
My fort was not so pretty. I think that I must have scabbed the plywood and 2 x 4’s from a project Dad had made. I don’t remember, but one day I just had all the materials that I needed. As the youngest, I was darn good at gaining what I needed. I had an acute memory of almost everything owned by my siblings and parents and its location. I was the original recycler. Any (now useless) article could be put back to purpose and serve a real need!
Luckily, Dad’s workshop was used rarely. In fact, it probably wasn’t even used after he became aware that most things could be repaired with electrical tape. I knew instinctively that if I took a roll of that I would be found out. I just pilfered, or (should I say) selected those tools necessary to build a fort.
The location for the fort also had additional advantages for me. It was close to our back door. I knew that I wouldn’t starve or wither due to the heat. I could sneak in anytime and raid the fridge. Also, there was a break in the lilac hedge so that the neighbor boy could stealthily sneak out of his back door with supplies and run to our building site.
When finished the fort was maybe not a thing of beauty, but it was at least tall enough for us to stand up in. It was a rough-edged, simple square box with a lean-to quality, much like that of Pisa.