They say the house has eyes, which isn’t a surprise, as any eight year old could tell you. They say a baseball hit too hard, always ends up in that yard, and I’ve surely lost a few. I once dared my friend Billy, who thought I was silly and didn’t have a clue, to go ring the bell, and then come back and tell if all the tales were true. When he returned unhurt and unburned right then I learned that sometimes it’s not the house that is haunted but you.
Everywhere I go there are rules — different ones for my homes and my school. My mom tells me yes and my dad tells me no — I’m either going too fast or going too slow. I shouldn’t throw toys — unless it’s a ball I’m outside — and it’s summer — or fall. I can’t stay up late, watching TV, I can’t always hold it when I have to go pee! I get real excited when I can help out So excited, sometimes, that I let out a shout! “TOO LOUD! BE QUIET!” I’m told with a roar, Then helping out turns into a chore. I get mad sometimes, being told what to do, I’m trying my best to be good for you! I wish adults would remember, though it’s a bit sappy, The best rules are just two: Be nice and be happy.
The other day I read a quote attributed to Neil deGrasse Tyson that said “We spend the first year of a child’s life teaching it to walk and talk and the rest of its life to shut up and sit down.” Being a parent is a bit like being the wind trying to balance a tightwire walker. Stressful for the wind, but how much more so for the tightwire walker who’s trying to do it themselves? My son is inherently full of joy, and I tried to put myself in his shoes while writing this, while adding a reminder at the end for adults to keep some perspective.