I have read that humor is an antidote for pain. I certainly find it especially important right now to leaven my days with laughter. So, I thought I would share a true and funny story that makes me smile every time I remember it.
It’s from a letter I wrote, describing our commute to the sitter’s house early one morning, back when my daughter Elizabeth was 3 and my daughter Shannon was 1.
***
I always tell stories in the car on the way up to the train station (we take Frank to the train and then go on to the sitter’s house). This morning I started the story of the three little pigs (one of Elizabeth’s favorites). Well, I had just gotten into it when Elizabeth interrupted me. “Pigs can’t build houses; they don’t have hands. They just have little, little hands.”
I was floored. But recouped quickly. “Well, maybe they got a man to help.” That was ok. But then Elizabeth added, “Maybe the man hit the wolf’s head and knocked it off.”
I looked at my husband Frank and he was grinning. So much for the nonviolent approach we cultivate! “Well, maybe. But the man was gone when the wolf came to the house. And the wolf went ‘I’m going to huff, and puff, and’ –”
“I don’t want a wolf in this story!”
“If there’s no wolf, who’s going to huff and puff?”
Frank (grinning) chimes in: “A robot. Robo-Wolf.” Because Elizabeth is watching (in bits and pieces) the movie The Empire Strikes Back. Elizabeth calls it “the scary robot movie” and she is scared by it and LOVES watching it.
Elizabeth (crying) “Daddy, you’re ruining my story!”
I valiantly keep going. “Well, the wolf said, “I’m going to huff, and puff—”
“What was the man’s name?”
And then Shannon starts to kick and roar because she is bored with her toys, which sets Elizabeth off again.
“Shannon, I can’t hear the story because you’re making too much noise!”
Ah well… so the commute progresses.
***
This story is also a good reminder for me. That day in the car, the tale I envisioned telling got derailed and blown up into something completely different (though charming). Sometimes when something I’m trying to create goes sideways again and again, I want to give up. Throw up my hands. Go on to something that seems more important, like dealing with the paperwork I’ve hidden in my desk drawer or cleaning out my pantry.
I truly believe, however, that we all need to use the gifts we are given to shine whatever light we can in this world. So, I keep writing. Even though it never turns out as well as I want it to, and it often goes sideways.
But isn’t that life? Our best efforts often get derailed, and we keep trying.