In Short

At our very first meeting, my son looked at me and thought ‘Obviously, my mother is new to this game- a new chum who needs lessons and I’m just the fellow to teach her.’ Little did he know how hard teaching me the lessons of motherhood would be or how long it would take?

While he was a baby, my lessons were easy. Playing, laughing and singing was not difficult to master and we both enjoyed the lessons. However, food was another matter. I didn’t quite catch on to ducking the raspberries he blew with his scrambled egg and I got to wear egg on my face. I didn’t understand the game of throwing the piece of toast on the floor to be picked up many times or banging his milk cup on the high chair resulting in the milk splattering everywhere. Nevertheless he was patient with me and I gradually mastered his techniques and etiquettes at meal time.

In short, I learnt to laugh, to find joy in small activities and always to carry a dish cloth.

Stuart was about five or six years old when he discovered dinosaurs and desired me to acquire such knowledge. He decided that repetition was the mode of learning which would suit me best. Every night, I had to read book after book on the subject and if I didn’t pronounce the name correctly I was in big trouble. If I had a slight lapse in concentration and couldn’t name one of his plastic dinosaurs, I was certainly sent to the dunce’s corner. One day, he was missing at lunch time which was a most unusual thing for him as he liked his food. I found him digging up the hard clay in the back yard looking for dinosaur bones. My heart went out to him and I wished that his efforts had a bit of a chance of finding any sort of bone even a chicken bone would have sufficed. He was not deterred by the rarity of bones as straight after lunch he was out digging and looking most determinedly.

In short, I learnt to be curious about the world and to follow my dreams.

My son was a great collector and couldn’t understand why I did not have any interest in his bottle top collection which he kept scattered on the floor. “Look Mum, I’ve got twenty Coca-Cola tops, fourteen Fanta tops, six Dry Ginger Ale tops, seven Creaming Soda tops, nineteen Lemonade tops……” and the list went on. He must have had a hundred or more of his precious bottle tops scattered on the floor of his bedroom. Stuart collected cicadas as well. He knew all the names which I had to recite - Black Knights, Yellow Mondays, Green something or other and Brown I cannot remember what. He usually kept them for a couple of hours before releasing them but this particular evening he decided to take them to school the next day for show and tell. Unbeknown to me or his father, once he had been kissed and the light out he gave his cicadas freedom on the curtains of his room. About eleven o’clock, when the house was dark and everyone was asleep, the cicadas sang their loudest. I woke with a start and stumbled into his room. In my dreamy state I forgot about the bottle tops and the soles of my feet were imprinted with the fluted indents of upturned bottle tops. A few words were expressed that I do not wish to share with anyone. I turned on the light to discover about twenty cicada singing happily on his curtains while he slept undisturbed. Fumbling around his room, I eventually found a shoebox to house the cicadas, but trying to unhook their claws from a loosely woven curtain is another tale of a woebegone mother.

In short, I learnt to appreciate my son’s interests and to always wear slippers when I entered his room.

He would keep spiders in bottle with instructions for me to catch grasshoppers for their food. He caught a green tree snake which bit him and wondered casually if he would die. He would bring home blue tongue lizards from which he wanted me to remove ticks. He would bang on the back door yelling, “Quick mum let me in. Murray is chasing me.” When I opened the door not only did I find my son holding an eastern water dragon by the tail but a very irate Murray saying, “He’s got to put the lizard back in the school yard. It lives there.” Another time he rescued a large skink from the mouth of a cat. I had to forget about preparing tea so as to take the skink to the vet. Needless to say, the kindly vet took the injured skink and, after praising Stuart, said he would repair the skink in surgery time but I’m sure the skink was only fit for euthanizing.

In short, I learnt lessons of compassion, expertise with tweezers, catching grasshoppers instead of housework and counselling two little boys.

Stuart had four younger sisters whom he tutored in his unique expressions of language. They would cringe when he used such terms of endearment as ‘bucket head, gherkin face, goulash skin or thunder thighs.’ However, as they grew older, he was very protective towards them and would advise me on which movies they could see. “They cannot see ‘Death on the Nile’ Mum because a small boy exposes his bottom at Bette Davis and I don’t think that is right. You wouldn’t like that movie either, Mum.”

In short, I learnt the love of language especially when I’m cranky with my husband, “You gherkin faced bucket head,” how to wipe away little girl tears and the sincerity of Stuart’s protective love.

Stuart decided that his grandparents needed lessons in the department of grandparenting. One time when his grandmother came to stay for a week, he proudly gave up his room for her. After picking up the bottle tops and other little boy paraphernalia from the floor, he told her that his room was ready for her. The next morning, he asked his grandma how she slept in his bed. “Quite well” she replied, “but the frog under the pillow didn’t.”

Grandpa loved fishing and Stuart wanted to be a fisherman. Grandpa rigged up a small rod and line on a simple ‘egg beater’ reel. Stuart had observed his grandfather for many years casting the line and assumed that he had the same skills as his grandfather. He took the rod over his right shoulder and threw with all his might. The reel spun wildly out of control and the line with it. The result was a horrible tangled mess, a crying boy and a grandfather swearing oaths like they were going out of fashion. Several hours later, Grandpa was still swearing and untangling the line while Stuart was happily playing in the surf.

In short, I learnt to share my son with his grandparents. Why should I be the only one to have fun?

Stuart taught me how love children, the beauties of nature and the wonders of the universe. Even today, I am amazed with his knowledge on the subjects that interest him and so I am still learning. Now, he is passing on his wisdom and love to his two little boys who will, no doubt, be giving him a few lessons in return.

In short, I say ‘thankyou.”