Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Angels and Ass-heads

This morning Delaney, now 7, came into my bathroom and sat on the floor at my feet while I put on my wrinkle-deterring, brown-spot fighting, antioxidant serum(s).

 "Mommy, a boy in my grade stuck out his middle finger at another boy in line yesterday. He got in big trouble for it. Then he lied about it and said he didn't do it."

Middle finger. Here we go. Back to that mysterious F-word that we danced around over Christmas break. The one Ralphie says but doesn't say in A Christmas Story. She hammered me about that word for days.

The laissez-faire, free-styling mom in me considered telling her the word, writing it down for her, telling her what it means and why it's considered, impolite, naughty, and obscene. It's just a word. Take the power out of the word by defining it and you get to be the one to explain it to her, whispered beaded, bed-headed hippie mom angel sitting on my left shoulder, smoking a cigarette and reclining in a beach chair.

Shut up, she's seven, retorted over-involved, anxious, type A mom angel parked on my right. She'll hear that word soon enough and every day, not to mention use it herself in the future with the same gusto that you do. Possibly (probably) even directed at you. Give yourself some time. Protect her innocence a few more days, months, years if you can. Besides you don't want to be the mom of that kid who uses the word "fuck" on the playground and then explains what it means to all the other kids.

Do I?

I waited to see what was expected of me, because I've been known to over-explain the answer to a question and get myself into deeper water than was ever necessary if I'd just kept it simple. But sure enough, Delaney's next statement was a question. "What does it mean when you point your middle finger at someone?"

"It's a very rude sign," I explained. "It's like calling someone a very bad name." But of course it's not enough this time. "What name? What are you calling them with your finger?"

"It's sort of like telling them to go away from you in the meanest way possible and using a very mean name to do it," I told her. "Like telling someone to shut up and get away, but in a really rude way. A really naughty way."  I went back to my mirror, with one eye on her watching the wheels turning.

"Ass?  Does it mean ass?" she asked me, clearly thinking that ass was the very worst thing you could think of to call someone. At this point, right shoulder, type-A helicopter-mom angel patted me comfortingly on the back and I knew I desperately wanted Delaney to stay in this place, this moment, just a fraction longer. I wanted to protect this world, this fairy-propelled, sheltered and and uber-sweet world where the word ass is by far the lowest insult you can give someone, an affront generating the severest of punishments and clearly something only rough boys and anxious, high-strung movie characters would dare say out loud.

"Well, it doesn't quite mean ass," I told her. "It's even worse than ass, but just as rude. Even ruder. And certainly something no one should ever do or say to another person, especially in school." At this point hippie, easy-going mom angel pokes me in the side and says Really? Jesus, just tell her what the word is and what it means and that the finger symbol should never be used, ever. She's not a dummy. She won't want to get in trouble. Now you're just dancing around it. Now she's going to ask and find out from someone else.

I look down now at Delaney and she looks back at me, deep in thought. And then I see the light go on, like an Edison bulb over her head beaming out at me. A knowing, years-older smile creeps over her mouth and she looks at me like we have a little secret, she and I. "I know what it means, Mama. I know what the finger means." and she looks around furtively for her little sister. I realize that Delaney is probably being kicked by her own little angel that lives on her shoulder and advises her on whether she should protect Alice or tell on her, she's got it coming. Making sure the coast is clear, she stage whispers to me "It means Get Out Of Here, You Ass-head, doesn't it?" And she looks up at me confidently, her expression so sure she has solved that grown-up mystery and can be initiated into the club.

"That's pretty much what it means," I told her, leaning into the mirror and focusing so she won't see my choking-laugh-into-smile face. I have to say it out loud, to make sure I'll remember it. "Get Out Of Here You Ass-Head. It's certainly not very nice is it?" "It's not," she agreed. "I would never do that."

I know that sometime, somewhere, someone will flip their finger in Delaney's vicinity and she will proudly proclaim that she knows what that terrible gesture means. And I know that her definition will eventually be challenged and it's possible she will even be made fun of for it. I can only hope that if this happens, that she will loudly and clearly tell that Ass-Head to Get Out Of Here.