September 19, 2005

Tales From The Crib

A 6-year-old gets a little silly

Jennifer Margulis

“Get out of my way, you poucha poucha,” my 6-year-old daughter Hesperus says meanly, trying to shove her 1-year-old brother off my lap without looking like that’s what she is doing.

“Poucha poucha?” I ask. “What’s that?”

Hesperus opens her mouth, throws back her head, and howls with laughter. Poucha poucha does sound funny but I think she’s really laughing at my question. Dumb Mom! She doesn’t even know what a poucha poucha is.

“Is that a cooking project, Mommy!” Hesperus exclaims as I break small pieces of dark chocolate into the butter and milk I have heating on the stove.

“I’m making bread pudding.” Hesperus races to wash her hands (one of the few strictly enforced rules that we have around here) and careens into the kitchen, sliding stockinged feet across the floor.

“See?!” She shakes her wet hands at me and then wipes them on my pants. “I washed them.”

I turn around and she is sneaking a lick of the sugar and cinnamon topping. When we cook together, often more of the batter goes into her mouth than into the bowl.

Six years old is all about being sneaky and silly. Hesperus knows she’s not supposed to lick the beaters before we have finished using them, but if she turns her back to me, maybe I won’t notice.

That’s the thing about mommies. They don’t know what poucha poucha means, but they do notice when you are standing on a chair helping them and you turn your back away to sneak a taste of something you are not supposed to have.

The contraband is so delicious, though, that Hesperus jumps off her chair and does a Yummy Dance, skipping around the kitchen, wiggling her hips like a go-go girl, and giggling, mouth open wide with delight.

At 6, the water slides at Emigrant Lake are scary at first. It takes five times going down on my lap before Hesperus, lifejacketed, will venture the slide on her own. Her face excited but serious, her hands bracing the slide’s sides, she zooms down. It’s the drop at the end, the splashing slap into the water, that frightens her. She does it, paddles hard, and grins widely. “Again,” she’s screaming even before she emerges from the pool.

We try out the Trail-a-Bike that we buy used at the secondhand store so we can ferry her to first grade. As we wobble along, I see her shadow. She is pedaling at top speed, rocking back and forth, the same open-mouthed smile of delight on her face. Since we live up a steep hill, biking with training wheels has always been hard and she doesn’t quite have the balance to bike without them. This new way gives her what she seems to be yearning for in every aspect of her life: independence without having to be too far away or too much in control. “I love this, Mommy! I love this as much as the water slides!”

The problem with silly is that sometimes it backfires. Hesperus thinks it is funny to dump her food on the table or scribble on her sister’s drawing. She yells “boo” too loudly at the baby and slams the kitchen drawer into me in her dash for a straw to use as a hairpin. I lose my temper, Athena shrieks with helpless anger, the baby’s mouth puckers into a sad pout.

“I was just trying to be silly,” Hesperus says sadly, eyes downcast, face a map of regret.

At Thanksgiving Hesperus’ great uncle brings her a peacock feather and she puts it down the back of her shirt and waddles around doing a peacock dance. We go around the table to say what we are thankful for and Hesperus, eyes sparkling, mouth open wide with a smile, interrupts her Great Aunt Judy’s rumination.

“I know what you’re grateful for,” she says to Judy. “You’re grateful to have me!”

Jennifer Margulis’ new book, “Why Babies Do That: Baffling Baby Behavior Explained” (Willow Creek Press) has nothing to do with 6-year-olds.