peskypippi.comBecause I have a lot to say…

“Este es el murciélago. El murciélago come las frutas.”

Animal facts, at the zoo, about the fruit bat in Spanish. It doesn’t matter if my kids really care (or understand) what the voice inside the box says. Spanish or English. Facts about the fruit bat, the brown bear, the salmon, the mandrill…at boxes scattered around the zoo.

It’s about who. Gets. To. The. Box. First.

The $3 plastic zoo key turns into the magical zoo key. The beholder of the key holds the power.

I have bought and rebought these zoo keys about 20 times. If we show up without a key, I have witnessed whining and pouting: “We need our key!”

And it’s true. We cannot visit the zoo without a key. My two youngest children need their own keys, apparently.

It’s become a tradition. We listen to the same old “Este es el murciélago. El murciélago come las frutas.”

It’s not about the money I have spent. It’s not about the animal facts they learn or don’t learn.

It’s all about childhood and magic. The magic that only a magical zoo key can unlock.

“It takes a village to raise a child…”

So true. But in this case, it took a tribe.

My daughter had a little not-so-little school project. She was to write her own Pacific Northwest Native American-style myth, with symbolism. Her symbol was the raven. Her myth was How the Raven Stole Straw.

In Pacific Northwest Native American culture, the raven is a creature of metamorphosis, and symbolizes change and transformation. Often honored among holy men of tribes for its shape-shifting qualities, the raven was often called upon in ritual so that visions could be clarified. Foremost, the raven is the Native American bearer of magic.

So far so good. Her myth was written. Part two of her project was to create a visual to accompany her myth. It was about 9:00 p.m. on a school night and this project was due. The. Next. Day.

We needed a little raven magic.

My daughter had visions of creating a Native American blanket. A blanket?? Dude. It’s 9:00 p.m.

“How about drawing a raven, sweetie?” When faced with a challenge, I sometimes try to find a quick solution. It was now 9:18 p.m.

But my daughter was determined to make a blanket. My husband jumped in, ready to help his daughter clarify and realize her vision. He’s great like that.

The three of us formed our own sewing pow wow. Cutting. Sewing. Gluing. Laughing.

I’m not sure what time it was when the final button was attached, but the raven spirit came through that night to transform a piece of felt into…an A.

I have heard people say parents shouldn’t help their children with homework. Whatever. Sometimes, I think, it requires teamwork and relying on the elders in the community. Sometimes, it takes a tribe.

I’m linking up with the Yeah Write “moonshine” folks. Check them out!

You know how Angelina Jolie and Billy Bob Thornton wore vials of each other blood around their necks?

Well, my daughter and I wear vials of silver glitter around our necks–they are pendants of sorts–with the word SHINE written in calligraphy nestled inside.

Quirky art pieces we bought at a local antique store on Mother’s Day.

And while not as headline-making as the vials of blood, these vials are magical. And they have special powers.

What are their powers? They make us feel special, especially when we wear them in unison.

As we were selecting the necklaces, I told my daughter something like this: “You are special. You are full of light. You shine. Wear this proudly and with confidence. Don’t let anyone put you down and take your shine away.”

That message is important and the necklaces serve as reminders, in case we forget or in case we are having a crappy day. Because of that, they are worth infinitely more than the $15 we sprang for each one. In fact, they are priceless.

I love kids and their gazillion questions.

My son asks while running down a hill, “Is a horse faster than a car?”

“Uh yeah, horses are fast,” I blurted out. Magic answer. Quick answer. That’s all he wanted to hear. Hell if I know.

Then I went home and looked it up. Dang, I was wrong. According to Wikipedia:

Any car in good working order is faster than a horse on a good road. The top speed of a race horse is around 40 mph and that is only for a few miles. Horses can go where cars can not and so would be faster if crossing streams and jumping gullies and hedges is needed.

But sometimes kids need magical answers. My child was running like a horse. In that moment in time, he was a horse.

Wikipedia and your boring facts: you can suck it.

This year, I spread the Christmas cheer…a guest blog sent all the way to Australia to one of my favorite (favourite) bloggers there. Check out my latest post on one of my favorite (favourite) guys: Clark W. Griswold:

http://theberniebrand.com/2011/12/clark-w-griswold-meet-me-under-the-mistletoe/#comment-628