At 7, joy is a lizard safari and potatoes in the bank
By ROBERT KING
Published March 21, 2004
My daughter Sarah woke me at dawn on St. Patrick's Day. She said the first light of the day was prime time for catching leprechauns, and she would not be persuaded to go back to bed.
So we grabbed a butterfly net and a bug box and - at 6:30 a.m. - set out in search of little Irish fairy tale men with their pots of gold and wishes to grant.
Such is life with a child who turns 7 this week - unpredictable, unlimited by notions of what is practical and routinely fascinating.
Sarah is an accomplished catcher of lizards. When one is discovered in the house - and that is often - everyone knows to call her in for a consult. With stealth and sneakiness and a quick lunge, she usually bags her prey on the first try. Hers is a sure hand.
Sarah loves horses and even neighs like one. Her only experience in the saddle is a couple of $2 pony rides. But riding lessons are in her future, and she already has the boots.
Like many kids, Sarah's best source of income is her grandparents. But she and her little sister, Annie, have carved out a thriving business for themselves - collecting vine potatoes that fall into our yard from the trees in a nearby vacant lot. The going rate: 5 cents a potato. On a good day, they can clear a buck each.
Despite her tree climbing and her scientific interest in the components of dirt, Sarah has her more refined aspects. Her long blond hair has never been cut, save for trimming some split ends. It is a part of her self-identity. To speak of chopping it off is akin to heresy.
Sarah is learning the violin, and already I must have heard her play Mississippi Hot Dog about 8,000 times. Each time it gets a little better.
We school Sarah and her sister at home, and the most ill-informed criticism of homeschool kids is that they are social misfits.
At Dairy Queen, Sarah is unafraid to place her own order - chocolate ice cream in a cup with rainbow sprinkles and a cherry on top. At the park, she strikes up conversations with any kid who shows up. And when a new boy showed up crying one day in her Sunday school class, Sarah comforted the little guy until his mommy left. She told him that her mom and dad leave her in class but always come back. He bought it and started having a good time.
Sarah reads the Berenstain Bears books and Aesop's fables for kids. She can read Psalm 150, which is short and sweet and chock full of musical instruments. Lately, we have been together reading Shakespeare for Children.
Don't get me wrong. We're not trying to build a super-genius. There are too many of those in the world. But as the child of a writer, she needs to know how to appreciate a good story.
Sarah's ambitions are the loftiest - to be a mommy or a teacher or a missionary to Africa, (where she can enjoy the giraffes and the zebras).
Sarah sits in church with us and listens to the preacher. And like a lot of 7-year-olds, she asks all the big questions. One day, she suggested the preacher consider a sermon on what it means to be "almighty." I think her little sister was giving her trouble that day.
Sarah can't wait to get to heaven. And at first, I took that as a reflection on my parenting here on Earth. But Sarah has been fascinated with heaven ever since Miss Mary went there.
Miss Mary was an elderly woman we used to visit. She couldn't stand on her own and was unable to speak clearly - a condition Sarah attributes to "the stroke in her mouth."
Sarah would take drawings to Mary and sit with her. At the end, we went to visit Miss Mary in the hospital. But it was too overwhelming. We never got past the door.
In her own little 7-year-old way, I think Sarah wishes she had said goodbye. But she is comforted by thoughts of Miss Mary in heaven, with her new dancing legs and a voice that can sing in praise. I don't dissuade her. I like that notion, too.
Sarah is not perfect. As the firstborn, she is by definition quite bossy. She struggles with sharing. She is still learning the importance of telling the truth. And she steals every decent writing pen in the house for the notebooks she secretly scribbles into.
But Sarah's prayers are earnest. On the eve of her seventh birthday, she is showing early signs of turning into a gemstone of a lady. I just hope she doesn't get there too quickly.
- Robert King can be reached at 848-1432. Send e-mail to rking@sptimes.com
