Under the influence

I realized something yesterday. This should probably not have come as such a surprise, and it's not like we shelter the boys from the world or anything. But I didn't quite 'get' this until just now: our children are, from now on, going to be influenced by others almost as much as they are influenced by us.

It came up for us on the occasion of Midnight (the Bad Cat) bringing a mole into the house. The cats have 'outside adventure' a few times a day, and if I'm feeling lazy, I'll just leave the slider open while I'm doing laundry or paying bills or whatever. And yes, I continue to do this even after the snakes, birds, and chipmunks that have been brought in. Let's just leave why a mystery for now.

Yesterday, the Bad Cat brought in a small black mole. I saw the cat put it down, but I wasn't quite quick enough to nab it before it squoze itself in between the hutch and the dining room wall. This is an impossible piece of furniture to move even with two people, and there is just a half-inch gap on either side so I couldn't even get a broom handle in there to scootch the thing out again. So Nathan and I put the Bad Cat back outside, and went out to get a Havahart trap.

When I got home with the boys and the trap a little later, I realized my mistake: we had put out the Bad Cat, but not the Slightly Less Bad Cat. He -- Smoky -- had lurked nearby until the mole ventured back out, grabbed it and presumably played with it for a good long time. It was on its last legs as I picked it up, and I held its little body gently until it died a few minutes later. (FYI, moles are actually really cute close up -- no visible ears or eyes, a long pink nose, out-sized hands and feet for digging, fine white whiskers and soft black fur. I don't know if they have teeth, but it didn't bite me while I held it, so maybe not.)

Anyway, getting back to the matter of influence.

As the mole died, Adrian (a recent first grader, not quite six) said "Oh, Mom... Did it pass over?"

"Yes, Bunny, I'm afraid it did. It was probably so hurt and afraid from when the cats had it that it just couldn't stay alive."

"Poor little mole. It was just having its little life and now it's gone."

Pass over is not a term our family uses. It must have come from his teacher, Mrs. S., who last week truthfully answered the class's question about her own mother by explaining when and how she died. I'm guessing she used the term, and once Adrian said it, I had to explain it to Nathan too. (I just said that some people use that term for when a living thing dies, whether they think it's going to Heaven, being reincarnated, or just changing back into dirt.)

Hearing Adrian use a completely foreign term gave me a bit of a poignant moment. I'm so used to him being a smaller version of us, with our turns of phrase, our jokes, our interests, our family vocabulary.

I won't say goodbye to him yet, of course. But I'll try to be aware that we're not his only teachers any more -- and support and encourage him as he forms his own relationships in the world.