Tuesday, April 14, 2009

How It Was Supposed to Be

Claire's creative and mental levels are going through the roof. It's like living with Akira or something. Her newest thing is giving Kirsten and I homework assignments. She'll just appear behind one of us and hand us a piece of paper over our shoulder. "What's this," I'll say. "It's your homework. Draw a picture of a squirrel." And then she's gone before you can argue.

At some point she started throwing the element of competition into the mix, matching Kirst's work against mine and issuing grades. (Cruelly, there are no prizes for winning.)

Last night's work was a poetry contest. I thought, I've got this in the bag, and delivered what I was sure were a couple of damn fine couplets, one of which even rhymed "happy" and "sappy" for contrasting effect.

When the moment of truth was upon us Kirsten received her usual A (teacher's pet). Her poem had turned out better than I expected and, I'm not going to lie, I was sweating my results. Little did I know I was about to receive one of the coolest compliments of my lifetime. In Claire scratch:


That is, Crazy, but A.

Crazy... but A.

It was an emotional moment. A milestone. Kind of like winning the lifetime achievement award, getting closure with an ex and being told your cancer diagnoses was a mixup at the lab, all in one. I basked in the new light of acceptance and affirmation my child had just shone on me, wishing things could have gone more like this in grade school and liking the way I felt in this new context.

Crazy=Daniel, you're strange.

But A=And strange is GOOD. Congratulations!

I just like the sound of it. Crazy, but A.


But A.