kids. aka where the wild things are.

In my spare time, currently in abundant supply, I've been babysitting. A lot. "It's a little gas money," one of the mothers of my employer families said. Yeah, something like that.

Here's the thing. Kids go from possessed screaming little creatures to lumps of snuggly warmth asleep in your arms in the amount of time it takes to heat a cup of tea in the microwave. It's staggering. It's sort of like Grendel's mother--one minute lovely, the next, Jesus H. Hold on to your gonads. Monster city.

Babysitting sure has taught me what kind of mother I think I want to be, not that I'm even thinking about that yet, but when the time comes there will be no tantrums lasting over 45 minutes. If there are, just commit me now.

Getting a little more poignant though, the other day I saw Where the Wild Things Are. Go see it. I don't care what excuse you've got. Take two hours and just give your brain over, especially if you've got young kids. Not that I consider myself an adult (not that I ever will) but I forget what it's like to experience "grown up" problems when your little. When mom and dad have a fight or worse, get divorced, adults forget that for kids, their world crumbles. Every thread of security that makes each day work suddenly snaps. This movie made me cry. Not necessarily a hard thing to do but it reached me on a very personal and timely level. It helped me see the world through a different set of spectacles. And it made me more sympathetic to the kids I spend time with, it awakened a different wave of excitement as I wait for my niece to be born. It reminded how precious children are. Not to get all goopy on you, but for a children's book/movie/tale, it had some big things to say.

So the moral of my story is to remember kids see things differently and sometimes maybe we should try harder to see life like they do, not take things so seriously.

Oh yeah, and LET THE WILD RUMPUS START! ROooooooooooAR!


photo courtesy of videogum.com