Flashes, Glimmers

Do you ever catch glimmers of the person you were when you were ten? Do you ever hear your fifth grade self squeal as though you just got invited to a slumberjam at the home of a popular girl? Do you ever taste vegetables like a six year-old with unsophisticated taste buds, or feel a little teenage cranky about having to politely answer pro forma questions from well-meaning adults? It's not often that I see the person that I was. I don't severely repress the inner child, but I was kind of a pain in the icicle for at least the first seventeen years of my life, and we don't really like to resurrect her that often.

More and more, though, I catch a flash of the person that I will be in the future, perhaps ten years from now, perhaps not even so very far from this moment.

A glimmer of this person has been captured here:


Um, apparently, I am geeked.

And really, the beginning texts to my child's library are certainly legitimate sources of excitement. Like, this is my very first My Very First Book of Shapes! By the master of illustrative children's lit himself! But is it necessary to project my elation with such arch enthusiasm? Do I really need to smash up all three of my chins against my neck and expose my dental fillings for all to see?

When I look at this picture, there are so many fearsome thoughts that go through my head. I can almost hear myself in six years when, after a morning spent picking out the perfect Classroom Parent outfit, I visit my child's classroom and sit in a chair above a small group of wide-eyed first-graders, their legs wrapped like pretzels, and present to them with every fabricated ounce of Barney Joy in my power, the wonder that is the original work of Eric Carle.

"Boys and Girls, do you know that Mrs. Lee used to read this author when she was a little girl? WOWWWWWW! That was a REALLY LOOOOONG TIME AGO, WASN'T IT?"