Friday, July 15, 2005


Logeren, that's the dutch word for sleeping over. Joel Jan is sleeping over at his Tante Margie's house. Which leaves me one full day to write as much as I please. So, why am I on this blog when I should be writing? It's called the luxury of having time to spend and yes's the big P...procrastination.

Leaving Joel Jan last night was a bit difficult. Not for him, but for me. I actually almost burst into tears. I miss the little fellow. He was already fast asleep by the time we left. Off into dreamland, not needing his cold pillows (which I'd forgotten). Margie called up this morning to tell me that he was doing fine and that he had slept quite well. By the time she got up he had already dressed himself up. Ah, who wouldn't be proud. He's such a big boy.

Well, I am proud of my boy. He is a fantastic trooper. Yesterday, we went shopping and he walked all the way in that heat! Marvelous kid. I'd promised him that after we did a round of the shops we'd go to the toy shop, funny thing was that once we got there, he didn't know what he wanted anymore. There were toooooo many toys and he had only 3 euros. He, he.

Another dialogue:

Joel Jan: Mama, does this cost three euros? (pointing to Nintendo Game cube)

Me: No, honey. That costs more than three euros. Count the numbers, how many numbers do you see?

Joel Jan: five. Oh, that must cost one hundred thousand million euros.

Me: Well, not really. More like one hundred thirty nine euros.

Joel Jan: And do we have one hundred thirty nine euros?

Me: Not for this toy.

Joel Jan: Is that expensive?

Me: You can say that again.

Joel Jan: (pointing to a flimsy whirly thing) This has only three numbers, Mam.

Me: It's one euro and fifty cents.

Joel Jan: And is that expensive? Is that more than three euros?

What I want to say sometimes: I wish I could buy you all the things your heart desires. You can only begin to guess how tempted I am to say yes, dearest child. But when I look at you and think of what kind of a man I want you to become, then I have to say no and tell you that you must learn to stick within your budget. It's not easy being a parent. You'll discover that for yourself someday.

Love, dear child, is not always equated in things that I buy for you or the things that I can give you. Sometimes, the sweetest moments that we share come out of pulling out the most enjoyment from spending the least. Just like our picnic days at the pool, our walks in the wood, the funny talks we share and sitting together behind the computer and trying to figure out how to build a super-duper fun park. That you can't buy, dear heart.

It's not easy raising a child in a materialistic world. I hope that when my boy grows up, he'll see that there is much more in this world than the ownership of things, that your value as a human being does not depend on the size of car your drive, or the amount of money in your bank account.

This is what I want to communicate to him. I want him to never lose that childlike heart, that faith in things invisible, that holding on to what really matters, that sure knowledge that what is just is because it is that way.

Well, nobody said parenting was easy.


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