How Electricity Works

The truth is, we put up a very nice tree every Christmas. It's a fake tree, but it's well-trimmed. We have a cute little butterfly that we attach to the top, because for some reason, I feel that that a star is too religious. Like everyone else, after we get the lights strung, we put the ornaments on, and then when everything is ready, we step back and plug in the lights.

One year, when Michael was 3 1/2, I caught him plugging in the lights on his own. He was back there, just plugging in the lights. I nearly had a heart attack. Visions of my child being electrocuted flashed through my head. I yelled, "MICHAEL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"

He turned to me, with the plug in his hand, and held it up for me to see. "I'm plugging in the Christmas tree lights, Mommy. They're not on." If I were in a calmer state of mind, I would probably have made a mental note that age 3 1/2 is when children start thinking their parents are idiots. Common lore would probably state that this doesn't happen until the teen years, but my actual observations were proving otherwise.

I told him, "Michael! You know that's a 'No-No'! Why are you playing with it?" We had taken to calling electrical outlets "No-No's," for self-explanatory reasons. It seems overly simplistic now, like calling water 'wa-wa." Nevertheless, my darling child was playing with a No-No, which was a definite no-no, and I needed to hammer this lesson in immediately.

He looked at me calmly, which was really frustrating, because he was obviously unaware that he was in mortal danger. He held up the plug, and said with perfect diction, "It's okay Mommy. I'm only touching the plastic part. If I were touching the metal part, THEN it would be dangerous. But I'm not touching the metal part. I'm only touching the plastic part. So it's okay."

Thoughts were flying through my head. Okay, well, that's all correct. He seems to understand the concept of electricity. And it sounds like he knows how to plug things in safely. When did he learn the difference between metal and plastic? But he's only 3 years old! I was pretty sure 3 year olds were not supposed to plug things into outlets. Was there a reason for this? Is it because most 3 year olds can't be trusted to understand about plugs? I was certain he knew not to stick his finger or a fork into the outlet, he would probably view that as a pointless endeavor. He was never the type of kid that stuck non-edible things into his mouth. I really was very certain that 3 year olds were not supposed to plug things in, but I couldn't come up with a good retort for his very clear and succinct explanation of his actions. He hadn't really done anything wrong. He knew it, and I knew it. All of these thoughts flashed through my head in a split second.

I had to come up with something, and it had to be good and believable. I had to stand my ground. I also had to ensure that he didn't inadvertently plug something in in front of another adult, thereby exposing us as irresponsible parents.

I finally said, "Well, that's true, Michael. But you know what? It makes Mommy really really nervous to have you plugging things into the No-no's, so let's just make a rule that it's okay for you to plug things in, but ONLY IF there is a GROWN-UP right next to you when you are doing it." He shrugged, and accepted this with a casual, "Okay, Mommy." I could almost hear him think, "If it makes you feel better, you spaz-head, sheesh."

Later, I told my husband the story, and did he know that Michael knew the difference between metal and plastic? He looked at me like I was nuts. He told me that he had taught Michael about outlets and how to plug things into them. I looked at him like he was nuts. (We were really quite a pair.) He asked me, exasperated, "Well, would you rather he DIDN'T know how they worked and have him electrocute himself on accident?" I had to concede that point as well.

I walked away from the whole thing really questioning my world view, and imagined a place where 5 year olds use butcher knives, and 7 year olds use chainsaws. Heck, as long as they understand how to use them safely...

The Christmas Chair

I grew up in a fairly non-religious family. (My mother is the current exception- she is a born-again Buddhist, but that's a digression that will lead us through an Escher-like karmic circle, so we'll leave that alone for now.) Despite this, while growing up we celebrated Christmas every year with certain family traditions. Watching Dolly Parton's "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas" is one of these traditions. I have copies of this movie on both VHS and DVD. I'm not ashamed to admit it. It's a great movie.

The other family tradition is the Christmas chair.

When I was very young, maybe 7, every year we would go out to the North farm, trudge through the snow, pick out the nicest, most manageable tree, and drag it home. We'd trim it with the same decorations every year, including these beautiful sparkly garlands. I remember a red one and a gold one. In retrospect, I think this was my dad's way of saving money, but it made for a nice childhood memory.

As the years went by and as we got older and less sentimental, the trees got more pathetic. They were smaller, and more scraggly. I'm not sure what the thought process was. Perhaps my dad was trying to thin out the less healthy trees on the North farm. Perhaps the smaller, scraggly trees were easier to cut down and move. We'd still bring the trees home, decorate them, and hang up the sparkly garlands, which of course lost a few threads of tinsel with each passing year.

This "tree" is actually pretty luxurious.
We found it on a recent run while I was sharing this story, and my friend Tammy,
whose decorating tendencies are best described as pathologically extravagant,
 insisted that I post it!

Eventually, we didn't even bother to go out to the North farm. This culminated in the year we went into the backyard and just picked out what was essentially a branch laying on the frosty ground. We had to fight the dog for it, because he thought we were playing fetch. We called it the Charlie Brown Christmas tree. We took it in a decorated it without much fanfare, and certainly no frantic repetitive arm-waving like in the Charlie Brown Christmas special that airs every year. Although, on the show, when all the kids step back, it's a small but lovely miracle of a tree. When we stepped back, it was still a branch, with the same garland strung over it. (By this point, the garland could be likened to an old toothless woman. There were only a few strands of tinsel left on it.) The "tree" wasn't really strong enough to hold any decorations, so we just put one of our few unbroken ball ornaments on it. Ahh, yes, the Christmas memories.

The next year, we didn't even bother going outside. My parents had an armchair that was forest green, and somebody, probably my dad, had the idea that we could just toss those poor old red and gold garlands across the back of the chair. We piled the presents on the seat, and under it. One less place to sit, but we had a small family. Voila, the evolution of a lasting family tradition.
We even refer to that chair as The Christmas Chair in the middle of the summer. One of these days, I hope to have a green chair in my own house, so that my kids can start building their own memories...