The
kids washed a dead duck today. At least
I hope was dead. It certainly was when
they were finished with it. They
mentioned that it was dying, when I phoned from work, and that they were trying
to warm it. This on a day that had hit
the 90s.
“No,
Kevin, it’s not cold. This isn’t a cold
day. Take my word that it’s not cold and just leave it. I’ll look at it when I get home.”
I
could tell that they were really pooling their resources and trying to find a
way to help the poor, half-fledged thing.
And they had already learned something from the experience.
“Mom,
I don’t know what’s wrong with the cat.
She’s just acting crazy. I don’t
know what to do.”
“What’s
she doing?”
“She
just keeps attacking it.”
“She’s
outside?”
“No,
we brought it in.”
“Oh,
OK. The cat’s fine. That’s just the way cats are, they’re
hunters.”
“Oh. Should we shut the bedroom door, then?”
“If
that’s where the duck is, yeah, that would help.”
“Hey,
David! Shut my bedroom door!” (If she’s crazy or being bad she’s supposed
to get over it or control herself. If
it’s just the way she is, well, we can think of ways around it.)
“Mom. David says the duck's dead.”
“Just
leave it where it is. I’ll look at it
when I get home.”
“He
says it’s stiff. Does that mean it’s
dead for sure?”
“Yeah,
it does. Get a plastic bag and put it in
the garage. Can you do that?”
“Oh,
sure. I can do that.” (All problems solved, now. Kevin in charge.) “No problem.
I’ll go do it now.”
“OK. The next pizza’s up anyway. I’ve got to run. See you in a few hours.”
A
few hours is more than enough time to forget a duck when you’re working two
part time jobs that don’t mesh together well.
More than enough. When I got
home at 10:15 and the dinner dishes were still on the table (although the bowls
that I had told Kevin to do were done) and there was an unbelievable
pile of things in the bathroom with my hair dryer, of all things plugged in in
Kevin’s room, I did not, at all, think of the duck.
I
went into Kevin’s room where the three of them were sleeping in a sweaty
one-sitter-sacked-the-next-not-yet-found mass (I’m certainly not going to tell
them they have to sleep in their own beds when any fool knows there might be
something looking in the windows) and I got them up. Sort of.
They
don’t wake up well in the middle of the night.
Eric tried his hardest to pretend he couldn’t possibly wake up and
therefore almost couldn’t. Kevin got up
and laid back down four times before he actually knew he was awake and that
someone was talking to him. David got
up. Was told to clear the table. Wandered into his room thinking he had been
told to sleep in his own bed. Got yelled
at. Got up. Almost went back to
bed. Decided he was supposed to be doing
something and started trying to pick up his pants and take the belt out of them
so they could go into the laundry.
When
I stuck my head in the door and frowned, he groggily yelled, “I’m doing
it! I’m doing it!” I led him to the kitchen. I led Eric to the bathroom. I asked Kevin what my hair dryer was doing in
his room.
“Oh. We were using it to warm the duck.”
Now
they’re back asleep and I’ve unwound and there were soggy black pinfeathers
stuck all over the tub when I went in and took my shower. And I realize that what was for me a four
minute phone call was for them the whole night and a good deal else besides.
It
was a test of their ingenuity / competence / resources / knowledge / independence. It was a chance to learn and do without an
adult to map it out for them (until the phone call – but that was too late
anyway).
They
had been proud and excited and had worked together on it as hard as they
could. And it took up so much of their
time and their thought, even after it was all over, that of course they had no
time to remember other things they were supposed to do.
It
must have been really something.
I
can picture the collaboration, the arguing, the suggesting, the deciding. Of course warm water, but that wasn’t working
and now if we try something else, it’s wet, and that will make it cold . . .
A
fluff dried dead duck. I can picture
it. If the duck went the way of it’s
recently departed brothers and sisters (who died when I was home and the kids
weren’t), it was dead when they found it in the yard. I hope so.
They said it never moved the whole time they tried to revive it.
I
think I know, now why there was a suitcase in the bathroom with one of the
sheets off of their bed stuffed into it.
I’m not so sure about the tape player.
Maybe that was to cheer it up. I’m
not sure I want to know.
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