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Being the Third

Tuesday, 17 January 2012

We missed you yesterday.

So said Peach’s teacher at drop-off this morning.


Peach had school yesterday? On Martin Luther King, Jr. Day??

Poor Peach. As the third child, he has spent his lifetime being schlepped along simply because The Bigs (Beernut and Poppyseed) and their schedules take priority. Even as an infant, his sweet disposition and willingness to go from place to place or activity to activity was a Godsend. [Especially in comparison to my beloved firstborn who still doesn’t do well with transitions.] The Bigs were off and it just did not occur to me that the pre-school would be in session.

The benefit, and there must be one in order to assuage my “mommy-guilt,” was the opportunity for Peach to be part of the conversations that The Bigs and I had about racism, diversity, tolerance, etc. No, I am not one of those super-moms who created a meaningful experience for her family. I want to be one of those moms, but I’m not quite there. Yet.

What we did have were several spontaneous chats throughout the day, based on things we saw on the television and on the internet. We talked about skin colour and our country’s changing perceptions (and policies) throughout the years. And how pretending that everyone is the same invalidates those historical facts and experiences.

And so, added to the ever-growing list for Peach’s future therapist, is the day that he missed school because Mommy didn’t think to look at the schedule. But at least the time wasn’t completely wasted.

[Ed note: Crayola does offer crayons and markers in an “ethnic-sensitive palette” as part of their multi-cultural line. They are not, however, all named ‘flesh.’]

3 Comments leave one →
  1. Tuesday, 17 January 2012 3:00 pm

    It sounds like a perfectly wonderful and worthwhile day to me!

  2. Tuesday, 17 January 2012 10:26 pm

    Sounds like it all worked out fine to me 🙂

    P.S. We recently had a conversation that went like this: With the first kid, you dropped the cookie on the floor and did not give it back to the kid. With the second kid, you picked it up, brushed it off, and gave it back ot the kid. With the third kid, you let him pick it up himself and eat it off the floor. For the fourth kid….cookie? what cookie?

  3. Tuesday, 24 January 2012 11:51 am

    I am the 3rd of three girls. I know what its like to be schlepped for others’ convenience and it wasn’t so bad. Following in their footsteps is a whole other story! When I was too young to go to Religious school my dad would take me in the car to drop off my sisters and spend the morning with me while we waited to pick them up. It is a time I remember fondly.

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