Teagan has, since her birth, been known to all of us as the little sister. The baby sister. That changed the day that Quinn came. Teagan’s now wearing two hats in our family – little sister to Ani, and big sister to Quinn.1
How we identify her is in large part via her relationships to others. How she identifies herself is tied up in those relationships, too. Rightly or wrongly.
And I’ve seen Teagan change her behavior to match the role that she’s filling at any one moment, alternately trying on the big and little sister roles to see which fit any given situation. She’s fiddling with expectation and agency. It’s fascinating to watch, particularly as the role of big sister is a new one for her. But she’s picking it up quite nicely.
All of the above to say this – I know that the people around us will rise to the level of expectation we have for them, which is why we should always set high expectations.2
But I’m re-realizing this morning that our expectations and relationships and even our identities are wrapped up in our relationships with others.
And I’m thinking about how I can honor existing relationships while building better ones in the context of high expectations.
How do we, I wonder, work to build, support and sustain roles and relationships that help us all to aim high and be better?
That’s a heavy question for a Monday, but a good reminder for the week.
There are several other hats or roles that she wears, but you get the idea. [↩]
One reason Teagan is a great big sister is that we believed that she would be and we told her so. Had we said that she wouldn’t be able to handle it, she probably wouldn’t have. Funny how that works, and how we so often tell people that they’ll be unsuccessful before we even let them try. [↩]
This is Quinlynn Laura Hunt. She was born earlier this afternoon. We call her Quinn. She’s 7 pounds, 11 ounces, and 20 inches of awesome. I’m just getting to know her; so far I like what I see. (And hear. She doesn’t cry. She squeaks.)
Oh, and just in case you’re wondering, everything in this last list? Still true. The world is a place of awe and wonder. Mysteries abound.
I’m eager to learn more about this young person. I’m humbled by the opportunity.
Ani reminded me tonight, as we were driving to an event, that today was November 11th. She’s been working on her calendar at preschool.
“Veterans Day,” I told her. “Do you know what that means?”
“Yeah.” She answered without hesitation from the back seat of the dark car. “It’s the day for when superheroes save our city.”
I let that sit for a moment. Not quite. But as I thought about it, and the fact that she’s four, I couldn’t bring myself to correct her. There will be time later for deeper conversations, for more understanding and a better sense of just what “saving” and “heroes” mean. As for tonight, well, there was only one thing I could say.
Note – This post was mostly composed months ago; it’s almost a year old. I’m posting it now because I’m in the middle of revisiting lots of drafts of posts. This one seemed done. Not sure why I never published it. – Bud
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Setting the scene: It’s just after dinner tonight, and I am in our play room, a converted office full of kids’ toys, assorted vehicles, and a large table stocked full of art supplies. Teagan’s there, too. In fact, she’s the reason I’m there. She discovered four discarded crayons, a leftover project of Ani’s, under the table. She’s only fourteen months old, but she’s been watching Ani, so she knows what those crayons can do.
She carefully lowers herself to the floor, leaning over to a collection of index cards and Curious George notepad pages, another discarded project. (Man, we really need to clean the play room.) She makes a tentative scribble on an index card, exploring the jagged red line she’s producing, her tongue hanging slightly out of her mouth with the effort. A smile and perhaps a bit of toddler drool appears on her lips as she continues to mark, alternating the crayons in her right hand, pressing each onto the card. I watch her watching herself discovering the way that crayons allow her to make marks on paper, the secret excitement only one fellow writer has for another building in my head and heart. Discovering the act of creation is, at any age, a big deal.
Her favorite, she decides between exchanges and random markings on the card, is the blue crayon, and I am able to sneak the others out of sight and mind before she decides to do any furniture or wall scribbling.
But the blue crayon must stay in her hand. The index card, too.
I tell her it’s time for bed and stand up to leave the room. She rises, too, clutching the blue crayon in one hand, the index card in the other. I watch her waddle her toddler waddle to the stairs and realize that she’s taking her tools with her to bed. And up the stairs, which she’s only beginning to climb on her own. I manage to get her to leave the card with me, motioning to her that she can have the card at the top of the stairs. But the blue crayon stays in her hand for the long climb, me one step behind, as she slowly ascends, reaching out the entire time for the card that I’m waving a few inches past her reach.
Her card returned, we begin the bed time ritual. I try to take her tools away to put on her PJs – but she will have none of that, shrill cries telling me just what she thinks of my idea. Until she realizes that I cannot remove her shirt unless she puts them down. Still, she cries and cries as I remove her clothes and change a diaper, only ceasing when, fresh and clean and pajama-ed, I return her crayon and index card to her still waiting fingers.
A few minutes later, she’s ready for sleep, and I place the card and crayon on her dresser. We say night night to them before going to bed.
This evening, I was playing with the girls as they fiddled with their “laptops” – gifts from my aunt, who knew I was getting an XO for Christmas and didn’t want them to feel left out.
As I stood up to return to the dishes, Ani’s laptop spoke. “Your blog is great!” it told her in a faux-excited voice. I laughed.
UPDATE (5/21/08): It seems that this video, certainly a controversial one, has been pulled from publication. Chris Lehmann wrote a much better post than I did on the subject. If you haven’t already, you should read it, and dig deep into his comments. If you know why the video’s disappearing around the ‘net, I’d love to know what you know.
Thanks to John Creighton for the link to this video. It’s well worth the six and a half minutes of your time if you haven’t already seen it.
I expected that tonight would be a night of constant interruption as Ani explored the boundaries of her new "big girl bed." Boy was I wrong. While she was quite excited by the sight of the green and purple doll house, it was a one-story night, as she was eager to "go to bed (in her big girl bed)." She went right to sleep, and all is peaceful. Funny how often our expectations are challenged, both as parents and as educators, isn’t it?
