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Silly is crucial to my emotional health.
Yes, I’ve had those rides in the car where both of my children were in
the back seat giggling and being silly. Despite my warnings to settle
down, they didn’t and both were in tears by the time we arrived home
from the supermarket.
That’s not the kind of silly I’m talking about. We can live without that
now can’t we?
I’m talking about the kind of silly that brings me closer to my
children. I’m talking about the kind of silly where I find myself
laughing and giggling as if the rent wasn’t due, the weather was like
Hawaii all the time, and I can’t imagine being anywhere else or with
anybody else.
That’s the kind of silly I’m talking about. I really need this kind of
silly and, more importantly, our kids really need this kind of silly,
too. Still not sure what I’m talking about? A few examples:
When my son was 15-months-old, I would wiggle my fingers over his belly
and without even physically touching him, he would giggle
uncontrollably. That was silly.
When my daughter was 2-1/2 years old, she would run close to me and
shout, “Daddy, I’m a ‘publican!” as she ran off at full-speed. Of
course, she knew that this would mean I’d run after her saying “not in
my house you’re not.” That was silly.
When my daughter was six we would exchange humorous, rhyming insults.
She would say something like, “you’re a baddy daddy” and I would reply,
“You’re a messy Jessie”. We didn’t really even have to use real words;
if necessary we’d make them up. That was silly.
One year the whole family went to Universal Studios. While there we had
a Star Trek video made where we each put on costumes and played a
character in the series. In essence, we played dress up together. That
was silly.
I have a theme song for my son that began when he was small. My son’s
theme song, with some personalized lyrics, is “Teeny Little Super Guy”
from Sesame Street. Isaac is now over six-feet tall. That was and is
silly.
One afternoon, my then 4-year-old daughter and I went through the clean
clothes basket and put underwear on top of our clothes. Still not
satisfied, we draped blankets over us and put more underwear on our
heads. Still not satisfied, we sang and danced to music. That was silly.
When my daughter was in high school, something possessed us to put large
envelopes on our heads and make funny voices at each other. We giggled
endlessly. That was silly.
So, that’s the kind of silly I mean. It is the kind of silly that tells
our children that we like being with them, that we are willing to follow
their ideas even if it means embarrassing ourselves, and it is the silly
that results in an unfettered joy for both child and adult.
My children are young adults now and both away from home. I enjoy the
quiet, predictable life I lead but I am suffering from a severe lack of
silly in my diet. I’m looking forward to both of them being home for the
holidays so that I can sing silly songs with them and, perhaps, I’ll
even convince them to wear office supplies on their heads. It’s silly
and it is the best part of my life: fun with my family.
©2005 Timothy R. Graves. All Rights
Reserved. Permission to reproduce for use with parents and families of young
children is granted provided no financial gain is involved and this
copyright notice is included. Mr. Graves would appreciate any feedback and
knowing how and when you use this document. Please let him know by writing
Training Wheels for Early Childhood Education at 1981 Decatur Avenue
Wheeling, WV 26003 or sending an e-mail to timgraves@trainingwheels4ece.com.
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