We Talk About Easy Things, We Talk About Hard Things
“Do you like camp this summer?”
“Has anyone said anything to you about having two moms? A lot of the kids didn’t know you before.”
“No. No one said anything.”
“If someone said something, would that feel weird?”
“Well, if they were like mean about it and teasing me, that would be super bad and I would tell a grown up right away.”
“That’s a good idea. Do you think you could just talk to them yourself about it?”
“No. I don’t want to.”
“Okay. You don’t have to do that. I’m glad you know you can tell a grown up.”
We talk a lot. We talk about talking. I ask a lot of questions. She asks me a lot of questions. We talk in the car. We talk during dinner. We talk at IKEA. We talk after camp. We talk before bed.
“I can’t stop thinking.”
“That I have this cut and I’m scared it’s going to get infected because my friend got an infection and I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“You know you can think about it if you can’t stop. Sometimes when I try to not think about something it makes me feel super bad about it. But if I let myself think about it some, I don’t feel as bad.”
“Okay, I’ll try to think about it, but will you stay with me?”
“Yes, love. Of course I will.”
I ask her how she feels. I ask her what happened. We talk about what we plan to do in different situations. We talk about what it means to be queer or Black or a woman or trans or a kid. We talk about hard things and easy things. I don’t have all the answers. I have so many questions.
“I don’t want to go to that store, they always look at me bad.”
“Because I don’t look the way they think I should look.”
“What do you mean?”
“They probably think I should look like a boy or a girl, like how they think people are supposed to be those things and I don’t look like that and sometimes people think that’s bad.”
“Oh. I don’t like that.”
“I don’t either.”
We talk about school and being a kid and being a parent. We laugh, too. We laugh so much. We sing. We dance. We are silly and have so much fun together. I know she won’t always want to talk to me. I know sometimes she’ll be scared to tell me something. We talk about that too. Feelings are hard. Language is hard. I tell her when I make mistakes and that I don’t like rules. I tell her that she won’t get in trouble if she gets in trouble at school, because when you’re six you shouldn’t get in trouble twice. I tell her that I love her and I listen to her when she’s working something out. I hold her when she’s scared. I rub her back when she can’t fall asleep. We talk a lot. We talk about the easy things. We talk about the hard things. We talk a lot.
This post is sponsored by Responsibility.org. All opinions are my own. And Roozle’s. We have a lot of opinions.