Tuesday, September 8, 2015

A Daughter in the Sun

I have a theory about children, they favor the season in which they were born.  There's no scientific data to back this up, not even a new agey article in Woman's Day, but my own anecdotal experience continues to at the very least, assert it is so for my offspring.

My daughter born in October, she sings more and is academically more successful in the fall, the spring is harder, and in the summer, she wilts.

My summer son hates cold and all things winter, he lives to be outdoors but only when it's warm. He also hates any heaters or artificial sources of heat, and seems allergic to all things Fall and Spring.

But these don't provide the evidence to convince anyone, they're incidental and idiosyncratic to the child in question. The real proof comes from number ten.

Born in the dead of winter, not only does she count the days "until I'm five because it's older," she also views the sun as her enemy.  Maybe it was all those months cooped up inside as an infant to avoid getting  a cold, but I've seen vampires with more tolerance for UV rays than she. She walks in my shadow, and commands me to "protect her from her enemy, the sun."

Walking back from taking her siblings to the bus, she complains.  "I don't like the hot.  It's too much. It's burning me. I want to get in the cold where it's safe." and coos when we happen upon the shadow of a tree about the blessed coolness.

I tried to explain we need the sun, it gives us warmth and light, it allows for life, it helps the trees and the plants and the animals.  She concedes the point as a necessary evil.  "Yeah, but I still don't like the sun. The sun's not nice."

Walking into the house, she moves to her favorite subject, the next snack.  She spied the bag of raisins I bought. (She loves raisins).      Pouring a few into a bag for her, I explain, "You know, the sun makes raisins."   I show her the box with the sun on it.

"You put grapes in the sun and they turn into raisins."

Her mind turns this idea over. It is clear a fierce battle is taking place, between her loathing of all things hot and the sun, and her love of dried fruity California dancing goodness.

"I guess then I can love the sun. Will the sun ever forgive me?"
"I'm sure it will. In fact, I bet the sun's working on a whole new batch of raisins for you, now that you're friends."

Don't know what I'll do if she decides to become enemies with the moon though.  

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